Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

As for what kind of dark magic Harry would learn under Professor Snape's guidance, that was none of Nietzsche's business.

However, at the dinner that evening, Nietzsche could see a large black dog squatting in front of the Gryffindor table, baring its teeth at the head table and barking warning barks incessantly.

Snape: To mock.

Actually, Snape still hated Potter and Sirius, but last night, while staring at the ceiling, he came up with a brilliant revenge plan—to make Harry Potter less of a 'Potter'.

The next day, Nietzsche left the school with his friends who were planning to go home and spend Christmas with their families, but when he reached the iron gate at the main entrance, he saw Hermione standing next to the statue waiting for him.

“If needed, I will come regardless of whether I have time or not.” Her breath, mixed with the snowflakes drifting in the air, landed on Nietzsche’s face.

There were no unnecessary formalities, nor any annoying rambling.

It was as if Hermione had been standing in the snow all along, just to offer a subtle word of concern on Christmas Day...

“If the opportunity arises,” Nietzsche said, first stunned, then feigning shyness as if speaking to a noble lady, “everyone would want to work with a powerful man like you; it would be my honor.”

Hermione twitched her lips when she heard the word 'sir', seemingly disliking this old-fashioned and stereotypical title.

But as Nietzsche's insincere flattery and exaggerated acting skills were revealed, the slight worry that had just arisen in her heart was quickly dispelled.

“Managing a car company is no easy task, but I’m willing to make time for you as my ‘partner.’ After all, it’s good to show some appreciation if we want to have a long-term partnership,” Hermione said, going along with his wishes.

Nietzsche was always like this, relying on this cynical trick to dispel other people's worries, as if he had everything under control.

"How long?" Nietzsche asked, knowing the answer already.

"That depends on your reaction." She cleared her throat and waited until the crowd thinned out before taking her hand out of her pocket.

To be honest, Nietzsche wasn't satisfied with this compensation. Through the white breaths exhaled by the two of them, he vaguely looked at Hermione, his thoughts unconsciously drifting back to that dry-mouthed night before school started.

School days are always filled with homework and miscellaneous matters in the magical world, leaving little time for the two of them.

Thinking of this, Nietzsche unhesitatingly pushed aside Hermione's outstretched arm and pressed his lips against hers, which were also parched. He could even see the girl's eyelashes, covered in a bit of frost, fluttering frantically.

Some things, once experienced, are unforgettable; that's what it means to have tasted something truly special...

“Mr. Holmes, don’t you think your ‘expression’ is a bit too much?” Hermione said, licking her lips.

“That depends on your choice, madam. The back of the hand represents ‘temporary cooperation,’ while this represents ‘long-term cooperation,’” Nietzsche said slyly, winking.

"You're always right~"

Hermione watched Nie's departing figure, her eyes gradually losing their previous shyness and tenderness, thinking: He has plans.

Although there was no direct evidence, when she first saw Nietzsche's delight at the Prime Minister's actions, she realized that Nietzsche intended to use this time to take action against the Muggle government.

It was because Nietzsche couldn't manage both at the same time that Hermione expressed her opinion.

As she turned around and took a series of steps toward Hogwarts, her eyes hardened. This was her thought, her trust. No matter what, she would help Nietzsche complete the final battle.

There are no Floo Network transportation points within the Hogwarts area, so Nietzsche had to first go to Hogsmeade Village and then transfer to the Ministry of Magic from there.

Perhaps because of the holiday, even during the day, there were hardly any people in the Ministry of Magic. The main hall lacked its usual splendor and was as desolate as a closed hotel.

"Mr. Holmes! Over here!" Arthur Weasley cried out anxiously as he climbed over a gilded fence. "Everyone's gone except the Aurors and the Order of the Phoenix, but..."

Mr. Weasley is the kind of person who can't keep a secret. Although he doesn't have Hagrid's big mouth, he can't hide his feelings either.

“But those Muggles are desperately trying to get involved, saying that the Death Eaters will cause casualties in London,” he complained.

Where is Fudge?

"Minister Fudge was furious. Everyone knows that house-elves are slaves, but the Prime Minister sent a Muggle with a house-elves here, saying that the Muggle Reconciliation Commission is a complete mess."

It's somewhat humiliating for a wizard to criticize the Muggle Reconciliation Committee before Fudge became minister for being incompetent, as it's akin to saying that a Muggle and a slave were both wrong.

The offices of ministers and senior officials, as well as the logistics department, were all located on the first floor. Along the long corridors covered with luxurious carpets, shouts reached Nietzsche's ears through the clean wooden doors.

“We’ve brought you Muggles new trade! We’ve let you enjoy the convenience of magic! And you still want to keep pointing fingers... Get out of here!” The voice belonged to Fudge.

The one who retorted was a very high-pitched voice, the tone of a house-elf that Umbridge couldn't imitate even when she tried to mimic it.

“Sir, you know very well that the Ministry of Magic is located in the heart of London, and the Prime Minister is very suspicious of that… after all, Azkaban is a precedent…” said the house-elf.

Only Westminster, the heart of British monarchy and politics, can be called the heart of London.

"Shut up! You...you ungrateful freak!" Fudge yelled at the elf who had betrayed the wizard.

"Ungrateful? That's a fabricated charge, sir. You gave us our freedom, how can we be accused of betrayal?"

Finally, he followed Mr. Weasley to the door, which was closed by two Aurors.

The room was very noisy, which made Mr. Weasley smile awkwardly and stand stiffly at the door, seemingly considering whether to go in at another time.

“Arthur!” The Auror at the door greeted him, shaking his head repeatedly. “Sigh~ Everyone’s gone mad these days. Even house-elves want to get involved. Those creatures definitely want to come in and get a piece of the pie.”

"It's better than those werewolves, vampires, and giants, isn't it?" Mr. Weasley said optimistically.

“Yes… thankfully those runaway house-elves only went with Muggles,” Auror said. “But who else could they go with? The Death Eaters wouldn’t even look at them.”

"How's it going inside?"

"It's not good. I heard that the Muggle Prime Minister wants to send someone to take over the whole... Muggles call this place something like West... Anyway, this whole area, just like when they took over Malfoy Manor."

Judging from the roars inside, Fudge's attitude was very clear—he refused to let Muggles interfere; wizards should handle their own affairs.

This is a troublesome problem. Nietzsche was planning to get Fudge to go along with the Prime Minister's wishes. Only by dragging those Muggles down to the same level as the wizards would the wizards have an advantage.

This is tricky. It seems I can't coax Fudge like I used to this time.

The main problem is that Nietzsche wasn't used to being too forceful, making it seem like he was forcing others... Although there's no real difference, it still looks better, right?

Chapter 334 "The Ungrateful Wolf" Dobby

The others dared not open the door because they were afraid of angering Fudge and losing their jobs.

Nietzsche didn't care about any of that. As someone who was supposed to be adding a new job to the Ministry of Magic, he pushed open the door with Mr. Weasley and bumped into a house-elf who was only knee-high.

"You've finally arrived!" Fudge's lips curled into a smile, but he quickly wiped it back upon seeing Weasley, and said with feigned seriousness, "This is the Prime Minister's messenger, Dobby... the poor lackey, thinking he's found a wise master."

He was like a worker complaining to his boss about how hard the job was, and Nietzsche believed he would have appeared even more aggrieved if Mr. Weasley hadn't been there.

The Muggles accompanying Dobby were dressed in white armor and full-face helmets. Logically, the Muggles who came with Dobby should have been polite or cautious, or perhaps as angry as Fudge.

But he didn't, and when he met Nietzsche, he stood up straight, as if to express a kind of respect.

Mr. Weasley noticed the gun hanging on the Muggle's waist. When the Muggle immediately extended his right hand, he instinctively took a step forward, tucking his hand tightly into his pocket and gripping his wand tightly.

“Sir!” said the Muggle wearing white armor and black nylon gloves.

"Sir?" Fudge's face showed the same surprise and blankness as Mr. Weasley's. He scratched his head and said, "What's going on? Nietzsche, do you know about the Muggle's plans?"

The explanation comes not from Nietzsche, but from Dobby; the small suit makes him look like a child's toy.

“Mr. Holmes is unaware of this, sir. This is an order issued directly by the Prime Minister to the 501st Stormtroopers,” Dobby said, sounding like a seasoned and shrewd fairy. “We must at least control the perimeter of the Ministry of Magic.”

"You can forget about controlling the Ministry of Magic!" Fudge roared in fury.

Although the minister misunderstood the meaning of 'control,' he inadvertently guessed the Muggles' next move.

The office was adorned with portraits of past Ministers of Magic. The ministers had already opened their eyes and were discussing the incident among themselves. Some were disdainful of the Muggles' attitude, while others were focused on Nietzsche.

Former Minister of Magic, Dougd McPhee, famously said, "Dealing with a mad dark wizard? Muggles' brains can't handle that."

The small office was as noisy as a press conference.

"Quiet," Nietzsche said politely, his hands in his pockets.

But those arrogant Ministers of Magic ignored him and continued to loudly criticize and curse the Prime Minister's stupidity.

At that moment, Dobby made his move. He snapped his fingers, and powerful magic instantly impacted the entire office. Fudge was knocked back onto his chair by the invisible magic, and the portraits were all forcibly silenced.

"You are not allowed to insult Dobby's master!" Dobby glared fiercely with his copper bell-like eyes.

“Well… I should have realized that sooner,” Fudge stammered. “The wizards were right about you from the start; you were a bunch of heartless stray dogs, and now you’re turning around and biting your former masters!”

Nietzsche paused for a moment, but quickly realized that Dobby was referring to the prime minister who had accepted some of the house-elves.

Dobby tilted his head and said, "But what have you ever given us? Dobby and his companions were the first to realize that doing things for others could bring rewards, but you wizards are just sucking our blood."

Dobby's being sneaky again!

In any case, the room finally quieted down, and the ministers, stripped of their voices and with their faces contorted in rage, could only pound on the barrier between the portrait and reality.

Nietzsche watched Dobby's short figure recede into the distance and silently said, 'Thank you.'

“I say, at least we all have a common enemy, don’t we?” Weasley chuckled. “After all, Muggles are just afraid that the Death Eaters and the Man of Victoire will break through the Ministry of Magic’s encirclement and cause some unnecessary disruption to the outside world.”

However, Mr. Weasley's good intentions were clearly not accepted, especially by Fudge, who cherished power.

“That’s right,” Nietzsche said, going on to ask, “So, how much support are the Prime Minister and Parliament willing to provide?”

“The entire SHD SWAT team, sir.” The Muggle’s head was covered by a helmet, making his voice sound heavy. “The Prime Minister attaches great importance to this extermination plan.”

“What about safety?” Nietzsche pointed to the ceiling.

"The elves will take our place and protect the safety of Westminster."

"Okay, we'll consider this collaboration..."

Fudge couldn't sit still any longer. He wanted to say something, but he remained silent because of Nietzsche's lifeless gaze due to his brain surgery. He could only watch helplessly as Dobby proudly walked out of the office with his little head held high.

This made him very uncomfortable... A house-elf had cast a spell in the minister's office! And then just swaggered away!

Good heavens, this incident has already earned him the nickname of "the most cowardly minister" among the surrounding ministers. In the future, it may even be made into a gold-plated plaque and hung above the name on the photo frame.

Mr. Weasley had had enough of the atmosphere. He followed behind the Muggles with a wry smile, looking them over with curiosity, and said, "I'll see you off."

Once the door was closed, leaving only the two of them alone, Fudge couldn't sit still.

“Mr. Holmes, how can we let Muggles in here?” He frantically tidied up the room, which had been wreaked havoc by magic. “Didn’t you hear what the house-elf said? Control! They want to control this place!”

“Don’t forget what that Muggle called ‘commander,’ Mr. Minister, I am the commander,” Nietzsche reassured.

Urgent! What's the use of being anxious? He's here at the Ministry of Magic to help his beloved Minister...

“But you didn’t know about this either,” Fudge said.

“If something is about to happen, would you rather have control or no control?” Nietzsche explained. “I am one of the superiors, and as long as I am alive, Muggles cannot bypass me to take over the Ministry of Magic.”

But Nietzsche was thinking something else: all of them... these big shots really look down on house-elves.

Of course, this wasn't what Dai Ying's job was back then, so she naturally trusted house-elves completely and wasn't worried at all that they would dare to betray their ingrained loyalty.

Fudge's facial expressions were fascinating, his face all wrinkled up, as if he were trying hard to think.