Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“Avada---” Marvolo deliberately dragged out his words as he raised his wand.

"A piercing blow to the heart and bones!" Nietzsche preemptively launched his attack before he could finish speaking.

A crimson beam pierced through the smoke, followed by a short, sharp "Ah!" and the thud of a body falling to the ground.

Nietzsche and Marvolo walked across the carpet covered with broken porcelain shards, amidst a flurry of falling feathers.

Under the light of the lightsaber, a bald old man lay on the ground, clutching his chest and sobbing with tears in his eyes. His neatly shaped mustache was stained with a bit of dark red, viscous liquid.

That wasn't an act; after all, he used the real Crucifixion.

"Tsk tsk tsk, you can even afford to drink dragon's blood?" The hooded Marvolo walked to the sideboard, picked up a crystal bottle from the freezer and looked at it. "It seems you think becoming a professor at Hogwarts is something to celebrate."

Nietzsche lowered his arm, pointing his wand downwards, and dragged the weightless lightsaber across Slughorn's neck without uttering a sound.

"Ouch... I surrender... I surrender!" Slughorn trembled with fear.

Although he didn't know what kind of dark magic it was, the plow marks on the ground didn't lie.

“I thought you would be more assertive.” Nietzsche gestured with his chin, making his gray goatee twitch.

"What courage do I, an old man like me, have to talk about... Who are you people?" Despite the vast difference in strength, Slughorn did not make any outrageous moves.

First, the two drama queens decided to leave each other hanging, slowly eroding each other's remaining psychological defenses.

“If I’m not mistaken, this isn’t your home, Mr. Slughorn… oh no, Professor.” Marvolo, his face hidden in the shadow of his hood, began slowly.

“This…here…” Slughorn stammered.

"I never thought that the former Potions Master would be reduced to using Muggle homes as vacation homes. Tsk tsk."

The implication is—no matter how you try to hide, it's useless; we can see everything clearly.

"The Ministry of Magic? Impossible! The Ministry of Magic would never arrest me for something like this!" Slughorn gradually realized this, and he visibly began to panic. "You are...you are that person? That person's men?"

He twisted his neck desperately, trying to get further away from the lightsaber while attempting to see the face under the hood.

“Teacher~ Oh my, you are my favorite teacher.” Marvolo turned and squatted down next to Slughorn, exposing the face from the shadows to the red light. He said gracefully, “Why can’t I come to see you in person?”

Nietzsche also noticed that his hands were a little dirty: he had casually touched the expensive dragon blood.

However, it was harmless. Marvolo Sisyphus's upbringing made him an excellent actor, so he not only didn't act like a thief, but was also very self-righteous—what I see is mine.

Because this perfectly matched Voldemort's neuroticism, Slughorn's psychological defenses visibly crumbled.

"Tom... Tom..."

"Shh~" Nietzsche raised his left index finger to signal for silence.

He didn't use any magic, but Slughorn didn't dare say the last name.

“No problem!” Marvolo waved his hand magnanimously, echoing Nietzsche, “My teacher can call me by my first name. Without his guidance back then, how could I have achieved true immortality?”

"Dumbledore is telling the truth...you didn't die at the Ministry of Magic?" Slarhorn was devastated.

"I must say, Holmes's trap was incredibly powerful. He used my magic to trigger an explosion throughout the entire Department of Mysteries, but luckily I escaped thanks to my Horcruxes, while he didn't have any..."

Nietzsche's superb disguise and acting skills prevented Slughorn from recognizing him.

The other person covered his face with both hands, seemingly feeling extremely annoyed and regretful about the 'fact' that Voldemort had escaped with the help of Horcruxes, and lamenting the loss of a genius who had single-handedly fought against two major forces.

“I didn’t instruct you on anything!” Slughorn was no longer able to think straight.

He didn't think about how he was exposed, partly because in some people's subconscious, it was normal for Voldemort to find someone so easily.

"No disrespect to Lord Dark Lord! Heart-piercing gruesome punishment!"

Just as Nietzsche was threatening the other party, Mavolo stepped forward.

"Stop!" he declared, dismissing Nietzsche's magic and stating bluntly, "He's still useful to us!"

As soon as he said this, Nietzsche clearly noticed that Slughorn's tense muscles were gradually relaxing, and he clearly saw hope that he could continue to live.

“My lord, he has betrayed you! He has accepted Dumbledore’s invitation!” Nietzsche shouted.

He thought of Bellatrix and mimicked the fanaticism of the Death Eaters, then swung his wand wildly, completely disregarding whether his lightsaber might accidentally hurt Slughorn, who was lying on the ground.

This sight really startled Marvolo, and he was stunned for a few seconds before he came to his senses.

“That’s normal. Professor Slughorn is a classic Slytherin…a pragmatist, I can understand that.” Marvolo quickly reached out to stop the mad Nietzsche. “Besides, I need him to become a professor.”

“Don’t even think about getting me to kill the students for you!” Slughorn said weakly.

"No, no, no, I don't need you to go against your conscience. I just need you to go to the school and tell me what Dumbledore is up to. It's that simple, isn't it? You can continue to enjoy your...good life as usual."

Nietzsche looked around at the room's furnishings. Although they had been disrupted by magic, he could still see the extremely expensive wines, the soft chairs covered with animal fur, and the pineapple preserves.

Judging from the above words and the room, this is a person with extremely high demands for material things.

Marvolo's well-timed concession gave Slughorn a glimmer of hope, and after much deliberation, the old man finally acquiesced.

Nietzsche thought to himself: He lives a life of luxury, has little respect for Muggles, and abuses the conveniences that come with magic and power, but he has his limits; he's a sophisticated egoist...

"Then you can stay here," Marvolo commanded in a mocking manner.

Nietzsche dispelled his magic, sheathed his lightsaber, and bowed respectfully. His movements were fluid and without the slightest hint of suspicion. He gave Marvolo a wink, signaling him to leave quickly.

Then Nietzsche began to restore everything, letting the feathers crawl back onto the sofa, the broken chandelier fly overhead and be lit again, and soon the sound of a pendulum swinging filled the room again.

As the small picture frames on the wall were gradually restored, Nietzsche realized that the little figures looked familiar, and that they were people he had seen at the Ministry of Magic.

"Are those all your students?" he asked, pointing to the silver photo frame.

"Of course, they all know where I am, and they even send me mead and things like that during holidays. Dumbledore found me thanks to these people... Hmph, you're the same," Slughorn said coldly.

That's normal. These days, dark wizards don't dare to run around like this anymore. So Slughorn, who is vacationing at a Muggle's house, can still live a luxurious life thanks to these connections.

He opened his hand, letting the professor's wand fly into his hand, and then returned it.

"What is your name?" Professor Slughorn asked, gripping his wand warily and expressionless.

"Vida, the Venerable One".

Chapter 353 Goodbye Peter Pettigrew

Before the start of the semester, Nietzsche only kept a close watch on Professor Slughorn, without interfering with his daily activities such as making potions or buying food from the village chief.

For several weeks in a row, Slughorn made no secret of his disgust for the Death Eaters:

Aside from eating, he often locked himself in his bedroom making various potions, then deliberately poured them away, as if to express his disdain, taking advantage of Voldemort's respect for him...

“The two people I least want to run into have both shown their faces this year, humph!” Slughorn would occasionally mutter.

As Nietzsche watched the summer fade away, every night he would lie in the garden and look at the sky, wondering if Hermione had discovered his 'Easter egg'.

In fact, he wasn't deliberately dragging Slughorn into danger; quite the opposite, he was taking advantage of the situation while protecting him.

Because Voldemort is short-handed, his dwindling werewolf army alone cannot overthrow the entire UK, and now he is severely damaged, so he is very likely to use Professor Slughorn to get close to Hogwarts.

As the weather gradually became less dry and hot, turning into occasional light rain at the end of August, Nietzsche finally reaped his harvest.

"Let me make this clear beforehand: whatever your wicked schemes are, if you try to harm any student in secret, I will tell the Dark Lord!" Slughorn issued his final order that night.

School starts in a few days, and he doesn't want to have a bad reputation before he dies.

"Mmm..." Nietzsche sank into the sofa like a useless person, lazily pouring himself a glass of Baileys coffee liqueur. "If you have any complaints, you can tell the Dark Lord in person later."

"In person?" Slughorn sensed something was wrong, and a few wrinkles appeared on his broad forehead.

"You'll see in time, sir. I promise I won't bother you, someone respected by adults; I'll just keep an eye on you."

Nietzsche had anticipated this. When Slughorn saw the young 'Voldemort' attending school, he would surely be puzzled by Headmaster Dumbledore's behavior. So he took advantage of the information asymmetry:

Dumbledore will tell Slughorn about Marvolo's origins, but due to Vader's surveillance, the headmaster will be unaware that Voldemort has been "reincarnated" from Marvolo through a Horcrux.

This information gap makes the whole scene more realistic and allows the actors to get into character.

Slughorn glared fiercely at Nietzsche, but suddenly his expression hardened, and he actually stepped forward and started pulling at her—something that had never happened before.

"Vida, hide quickly!" the professor said urgently, his voice choked with urgency.

"Is someone here?" Nietzsche reluctantly got up and was pushed into the bedroom. He wiped the wine from the corner of his mouth and took out his wand with a flushed face.

"No, you can't do it!" Slughorn's face changed drastically, almost pleading. "Maybe it's just other professors coming to help me pack... If someone dies here, Dumbledore will find out!"

Nietzsche narrowed his eyes slightly, quite pleased with the professor's tense demeanor.

This frightened Slughorn even more. In his eyes, Darth Vader, who followed Voldemort, clearly agreed with his excuse and was not planning to take action. So he became even more pessimistic about Dumbledore's miscalculation.

The bedroom wasn't very big, but it had everything you needed—from all sorts of publications and magazines to the Daily Prophet with its 'Werewolf Cure Promotion' printed on it, and he even saw his own and Snape's portraits in it.

It's no wonder Slughorn's attitude was so bad; clearly, he was heartbroken that the magical world had lost such an important talent.

But after two minutes, there was still no movement outside the door, which aroused Nietzsche's suspicion. He cast an illusion spell on himself and then climbed out of the bedroom window into the messy backyard.

The streets, lit by oil lamps, were completely silent; not a soul could be seen...

Clang---

A trash can outside a restaurant was suddenly overturned. Nietzsche nervously turned around, but he was neither a stealthy Death Eater nor a Dementor; he was just a rat.

Nietzsche moved closer silently and, by the light of the streetlamp, saw that the mouse's fingers were complete... perhaps not Animagus?

'Animagus couldn't possibly trigger an intrusion prevention charm either.' He frowned and walked away from the trash can, mentally reviewing his knowledge of spells.

This touches upon the core of metamorphosis—everything except the soul can be altered.

Animagus is an undetectable human transformation. For example, Dementors, which can see through disguises, cannot distinguish between humans and Animagus because their life structure has been altered.

Besides, he vaguely remembered that when Voldemort resurrected in fourth grade, Peter Pettigrew had lost an arm... Wait! There's a flaw!

Nietzsche stopped walking back and quickly turned around to look for the mouse that had disappeared into the darkness.

'Voldemort used magic to give Peter Pettigrew a prosthetic arm!' His cold thoughts began to spread.

His best elective was alchemy, and his later experience of replicating the new time converter gave him a deeper understanding: even alchemy leaves traces of magic, and those traces mean they can be detected by anti-intrusion spells.

Since it can be sensed, then things become much easier...

Ni gathers spiritual energy, sensing everything around him through the essence of magic.

Magic exists in all things. As his will spreads, he begins to 'see' the carefully tended flowers in the garden, the stones on the street, and the shapes of the insects in the soil, all of which are imprinted in his mind.