Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"You madman..." Voldemort conjured a huge black veil from the thin air and draped it over his head to ward off the flood of magic. His voice sounded rather comical.

This place is caught between destruction and rebirth, and everything is changing rapidly, like a phantom. Nietzsche even saw many figures flickering back and forth, which looked like former staff members.

For example, where there was a desk before, in the same second, the figures of people sitting, sleeping on the desk, and standing thinking will appear.

The constantly shifting debris scraped against him with a crackling sound, and he felt like a piece of meat being smothered with pepper.

Nietzsche turned his head and found Moran like a corncob thrown into a shredder, his skeleton in a turning, fleeing posture, being gradually torn apart by tiny things that were moving at high speed.

He himself could no longer walk, and gradually he could no longer see whether Voldemort's veil had been torn to shreds.

"Hmm~~" He heard such a sound.

It's strange, how could Voldemort still snort so easily amidst this torrent of magic?

"It's annoying, but it wasn't a complete waste of time." No, this voice was deeper than Voldemort's, with a smoky quality, and it also had a certain magic that made one's chest tremble like an eardrum.

Nietzsche tried to raise his hand, but he was as if he were embedded in cement and could not move.

"Is it really painful? You should be glad." The person seemed to be speaking to him.

Nietzsche, however, could not speak; he was caught in this out-of-control magic, constantly affected by 'time'.

But that didn't stop him from thinking, so he wondered randomly in his mind: Who is this person? He said, "It's not a wasted trip," which sounded a bit like the Grim Reaper's tone, that's how it's written in stories.

"Really? Then it seems I need to change my catchphrase." The whisper seemed to have seen through his thoughts.

Nietzsche thought he was going mad, which was understandable, but then he thought that this was probably something that would happen when he got old... What about Voldemort? Shouldn't he be dead too?

"He's still alive, but it's worse than being dead. That guy is always afraid of running into me. Am I that scary? Impossible. The old folks all like me. He's just making himself look like a living dead."

Very good, that's for sure. Nietzsche believed it was his subconscious speaking.

"No, no, no, you guessed right, I really am Death. You've seen me before, just now. I was watching you... Anyway, have a pleasant journey~"

Nietzsche shouted desperately: Wait a minute, what does "have a pleasant journey" even mean? Hey! At least tell me what happened to Voldemort!

But the mysterious voice did not respond. He heard the strange thing that called itself 'Death' humming a popular Muggle song, and the sound grew fainter and fainter, as if it had already taken Moran and the souls of several Death Eaters away.

He impatiently tried to move his limbs, to catch up, to make a sound...

"Am I really going to die?" Nietzsche suddenly uttered, without even realizing it, and the words just slipped out.

But he still couldn't see anything clearly; everything was still pitch black. Then he heard a soft rustling sound, like clothes rubbing together.

The fact that he can speak means he might be able to use magic...

Nietzsche scratched his right hand, feeling a sense of relief when he realized that the wand was still there. He silently chanted a spell, and the familiar scarlet lightsaber instantly unfolded. Only then did he realize that he was no longer in the Department of Mysteries at the Ministry of Magic.

But...where is this?

Nietzsche didn't dare turn his head, but instead quickly scanned the area with his eyes.

Something looks familiar, but something's not right. Let me look again... wait... isn't this Hermione's bedroom?!

(Ahhh, finally the time converter issue is resolved.)

The time-tamper setting originates from *The Cursed Child*. While not an official setting or story, it's considered a derivative work acknowledged by J.K. Rowling—parallel universes exist within the H.P. universe.

Chapter 340 This scene seems familiar

The room features simple bookshelves and layout, minimalist decor, and a view of the dark street from the window.

Nietzsche relaxed his tense nerves, and the soreness from the instant relaxation of his muscles hit his nerves, making him feel sleepy. He looked at the head of the bed and saw little Granger, who was already curled up in a ball.

The cold, muffled breathing and the crimson light made the girl desperately cover her mouth, afraid of waking her parents next door.

Nietzsche, with practiced ease, walked to the desk in the dark, pulled out a chair, lazily raised his hand, and magically stopped Granger's hand from sneaking under the pillow.

"Behave yourself." His tired tone carried a hint of amusement.

Granger did the same thing back then, suddenly barging into his dormitory and using some clever tricks to keep Crookshanks in check. This time, it can be considered revenge.

He knows the other person, but the other person doesn't know him.

Granger almost vomited just from the stench of blood. Fear prevented her from moving, and she stared intently at the red lightsaber that was humming.

“Underage wizards who use magic in the Muggle area without permission will be warned by the Ministry of Magic,” Nietzsche kindly reminded him, though it sounded more like a threat. But he was happy to see Granger look frightened.

Unlike the woman who didn't say much and would resort to violence at the slightest disagreement, young Granger was more like a rabbit sensitive to the outside world.

"Wh...what?" Granger was still playing dumb, stammering, "What magic?"

“There’s a magic wand under your pillow,” Nietzsche said. “Don’t be silly. We always keep our wands within easy reach. By the way, what year is it?”

He lowered his fingers, canceling his control over the magic. Granger then struggled to pull his arm back, warily eyeing the uninvited guest before him.

“1993…” Granger didn’t dare say anything more, as if he thought Granger was some kind of wanted criminal.

Of course, it's not her fault. After all, what normal person would suddenly appear in a girl's bedroom, wearing armor that smells of blood?

Nietzsche breathed a sigh of relief upon receiving the answer; what he could now confirm was that his present had become Granger's past.

Because 'time' is not linear, the time travel of the Time Converter is not 'Back to the Future' at all, but a donut:

It's hard to say whether Granger traveled through time first to find him, thus causing him to return to the past now, or whether he returned to the past first, causing Granger from the future to find him... Time will automatically fill in the gaps.

In Dumbledore's words, it's 'fate'.

The sudden knocking made Granger even more nervous.

"Aren't you asleep yet?" Mr. Granger yawned and asked as he entered. "Mien, I think I heard other people's voices..."

Nietzsche instinctively opened his mouth, but before he could squeeze out a "we," he quickly swallowed the rest of his words, pulling himself back to reality—this was not his Mr. Granger.

So he waved his wand, signaling Granger to explain.

“Uh… I believe you!” Granger awkwardly told a lie.

"letter?"

"Because I'm going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, Ron reminded me to go find Harry...you know, one of those magical letters that can talk."

"There's such a thing?" Mr. Granger seemed to really believe it, muttering a few words. "Alright, Mien, go to sleep early. I'll take you to Diagon Alley, don't worry."

As the Grangers closed their bedroom door, Nietzsche furtively turned his head and stared again at Granger, who was huddled in the corner of the bed.

He ignored the girl who was sneakily grabbing the wand, and leaned back in his chair, gazing out the window at the moonlit street. There was no light at all; the streetlights had all malfunctioned due to the magical fluctuations.

"In 1993, it seems I still have these things in my grasp." Nietzsche took off his scratched helmet, his voice ethereal, as if he were talking in a dream.

Granger stared at this strange man for a long time, never daring to let go of the wand in his hand.

"Who are you?" she asked, feeling somewhat confused.

"a passerby."

Logically speaking, Granger only figured out what was going to happen in the past, which means that the woman really didn't know him back then... Thinking of this, Nietzsche felt a little more mischievous.

If he could do it all over again, he'd be confident he could beat Granger now, but unfortunately, he can't get his revenge... Wait, maybe he could?

Not grown up...isn't that even better?!

"I heard you're going to Diagon Alley with your friends tomorrow." Nietzsche's mind cleared up considerably as soon as he started having wicked thoughts.

“That’s just an excuse!” Granger argued in a low voice.

“That’s great, I just need to buy some things to brew some potions…” He ignored the other person’s words and reached under the table as he spoke, quickly touching the hidden cauldron.

He was so familiar with the place that it was like he was at home. It didn't matter; in fact, he had been to Hermione's bedroom countless times.

Neither of them slept that night; they were both very alert. Nietzsche worried that Granger might break the rules and use magic while he slept because of his parents' safety, while Granger was even more afraid to sleep, fearing that Nietzsche, this lunatic, might do something.

By dawn, Granger's eyes were bloodshot as she watched Nietzsche remove his armor and throw it under her bed.

"Can't you just use magic to clean it up?!" she said, forcing back her nausea.

“These are basilisk scales; magic won’t work on them. You can only wash them by hand,” Nietzsche said, feigning ignorance.

Granger had no idea that she could hide so many things under her bed. Her gaze toward Nietzsche grew increasingly dangerous, especially after he unearthed the crucibles and other instruments.

An unnamed anger welled up in her heart, and the words in her mind almost blurted out without her thinking.

"abnormal."

Nietzsche stared, wondering how she had the right to utter such insults. He was merely familiar with the room, while the future Granger was a true stalker!

He only had a shirt and a cape on him, and he would have to buy more clothes. But the problem was that he didn't have any money on him, so he didn't argue, adhering to the principle of 'pretend to be a good person before cheating others'.

It's alright, if he remembers correctly, Granger has some money for his upcoming birthday.

Freed from the constraints of his armor and under the Illusion Charm, Nietzsche looked at the Granger family's breakfast and began to reminisce about the simpler days of the past...

Never mind, I'll just go to the kitchen and get some fries.

"Why are you so nervous about eating? Eat slowly, no one's going to take it from you," Mrs. Granger teased her daughter about her eating habits.

The Grangers were having breakfast at the restaurant, and while they were there, Nietzsche took the opportunity to open the refrigerator and rummage through it for food. Sure enough, each Granger had a little snack hidden in the back of the refrigerator.

Pudding and milk!

From Granger's perspective, sitting across from her parents, she saw a pudding fly out of the refrigerator and then disappear into thin air, which made her cut bread with increasing strength.

"Cough...I'm full!" Granger threw down his cutlery and yelled at his father, "Time to get going!"

"Wait a little longer, my dear, let me finish this cup of tea." Mr. Granger slowly unfolded a stack of newspapers.

This plan won't work.

At this moment, Mrs. Granger was about to clear the table, and Granger immediately stood up to help. Nietzsche, leaning against the refrigerator door, watched her carry plates and bowls, occasionally glancing in his direction.

Because Nietzsche's illusion spell was so powerful, Granger's eyes would always glare at him crookedly, making him look like an angry fool.

However, in the Grangers' eyes, their daughter was simply overly excited about going to Diagon Alley with her friends.

"Hey!" Granger said, head bowed, his tongue clicking against his teeth. "Don't hurt them. Whatever you do, my parents are innocent..."

Nietzsche lowered his head slightly, secretly delighted: This is Granger, who used to dominate him? He's nothing special, really, he can't take a joke.

"Don't worry, I'm not Voldemort's henchman." To keep things calm, he still gave the other person a sedative. "Speaking of which, could you please help me buy some clothes in Diagon Alley?"

"What?!!"

Granger was shocked; he had eaten her food and now he wanted to use her money!

He really is a bad person.