Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"Oh dear! I have to catch the train!" Slughorn quickly grabbed his hand and dragged him toward platform 9 without looking back, as if he were afraid something might go wrong.

It's only six in the morning, and there are still many empty seats, but Slughorn hasn't managed to get a seat yet.

He arrived at the last carriage and found that instead of the usual compartments, there were several long tables and chairs by the window; this was probably the class captain's carriage.

“Remember, don’t say a word… Since you’re in charge of surveillance, you can only monitor, you’re not allowed to do anything else.” Slughorn drew his wand and closed all the doors and windows tightly.

"I'll listen to you," Nietzsche said, scratching his beard.

“Veda, you’re at school as my assistant.” His eyes suddenly gleamed with courage, and he spoke with a mocking tone, “Whatever you want to know about Dumbledore, I’ll tell you, since you can’t possibly succeed anyway.”

"It doesn't matter. Lord Dark Lord will eventually steal the fruits of their labor."

Nietzsche ignored Slughorn's sarcastic remarks; to him, it was Voldemort who was being insulted anyway.

The senior carriage was very spacious, and the services offered seemed to be more extensive. Sure enough, not long after they sat down, Nietzsche saw the lady who used to push a cart selling snacks open the door and ask them what they needed.

"I'll have some pan-fried quail later," Slughorn said to himself, rubbing his bulging belly.

“I will control her with the Imperius Curse…” Nietzsche leaned over and whispered in his ear.

"No, two servings, please!" Slughorn's expression changed drastically as he chased after her, shouting. Only after the lady pushing the cart had left did he angrily say, "Is this how all Death Eaters behave? Completely without discipline, what's the difference between you and animals?"

He strongly opposed Nietzsche's barbaric behavior and used it as a point of attack, denouncing the Death Eaters as a group of novices.

"You really think I won't make a move?" Nietzsche feigned a threat. "Keeping you alive is only useful to the Dark Lord. At least I can teach you a lesson right now."

“You dare!” Slughorn sneered. “I know that student very well... You don’t dare to disobey him because you can’t afford the consequences. Have a good meal, you might not have another chance to eat like this again.”

As more and more students arrived, Slughorn nervously clutched his robe as their laughter and footsteps passed through the carriage door.

At 7:03, the door to the prefect's carriage was opened by the first student...

A pair of striking brown eyes and a pair of half-drooping blue eyes were the first to meet each other's gaze.

Nietzsche: Oh no.

Hermione: Something's weird. Let me take another look. Something's not right. Let me take another look.

Chapter 356 Vida and Padmé's Double Act

(Freshly baked!)

His tall figure and hands were concealed by a thick wizard's robe, and his neat short brown curly hair fell just to his shoulders. His expression was more dignified than before, and one could tell at first glance that he must be a person in a high position.

This was Nietzsche's immediate impression of Hermione: under the influence of hard work and Holmesian thinking, the changes were remarkable.

As she entered the captain's carriage, her sharp, chocolate-colored eyes quickly locked onto Slughorn and Nietzsche, her hands, hidden beneath her wizard's robes, seemed to be plotting something.

Slughorn broke off the connection the moment their eyes met, barely three seconds later.

“I am Horace Slughorn, this year’s Potions Professor…” His self-introduction made Hermione look away.

“Granger,” Hermione said simply.

“I feel like I’ve heard this name somewhere before… Aha! You must be the student in the ‘most outstanding wizard’ mentioned in the Daily Prophet, right? This is the first time I’ve ever seen a young wizard being selected.”

Those who can be named 'the most outstanding wizards' are all historical figures with names and identities, from the centenarian Dumbledore and the deceased Nicolas Flamel to Lavern de Montmorency, who invented the love potion.

And it's certain that Hermione Granger's image will soon be included in the Chocolate Doll cards.

However, in response to the professor's praise, Hermione merely smiled politely and remained quite composed. Sitting on the soft chair opposite the two of them, she said, "The original name should have been Nietzsche-John Holmes."

Nietzsche felt intense nausea whenever he thought of the illusions he feared.

In fact, he hated being hailed as a 'savior,' much like Quirinus Quirrell's warning about runic magic: if his runic magic could perfectly protect everyone, then what would he become?

A living saint? A god?

Nietzsche glanced dismissively out the car window at the students saying goodbye to their Muggle parents, showing no interest in the topic.

“Yes, that child… I’m still hoping to meet him,” Slughorn remarked.

The professor clapped his hands, and the suitcases on the overhead luggage rack opened automatically, releasing a large pile of pineapple preserves, cheese biscuits, and pumpkin pies onto the table, where they were neatly arranged on several white porcelain plates.

As Nietzsche reached out, he noticed Hermione looking in his direction, so he slid his finger and picked up a jackfruit from next to the licorice wand.

“I thought you’d bring the licorice wand.” The girl seemed a little disappointed, but she said casually, “This… associate professor?”

“Darth Vader, Potions Department assistant,” Nietzsche said coldly, tapping his leg slightly under the table. “I heard that Holmes is dead. Maybe he was a bit too arrogant and too impatient.”

“It’s ‘missing’,” Hermione corrected, but did not refute the final assessment.

She quietly picked up a licorice wand, put it in her mouth and chewed, giving the 'Darth Vader' in front of her a hostile look.

Poor Slughorn was caught between the two, awkwardly trying to salvage the situation. In front of him was the most promising wizard and leader of the future, and behind him was a Death Eater who used the Unforgivable Curse at will.

Currently, there is no one in the class monitor's carriage that he can afford to offend.

"How about it? These were all sent from the factory by my former students. They taste even better than what you buy outside, don't they?" Slughorn said smoothly. "If you're interested, I can introduce you to him..."

But Hermione shook her head, swallowed, and said, "This is the first time I've ever eaten this. It's a little sour and sweet."

Then she spat out her wand and snapped her fingers, causing the jackfruit Nietzsche was holding to fly into her mouth, making her cheeks bulge out.

This greatly displeased Nietzsche, who had finally found a substitute for the licorice wand, and now someone was trying to steal it.

"Have I seen you somewhere before?" Hermione licked the crumbs off her fingers, her tone quite certain.

"Oh?" Nietzsche feigned ignorance. "Then why don't I remember?"

“I think it was a few months ago,” she said calmly, stopping the professor from putting snacks in his mouth. “To be precise, we didn’t actually meet, but one of us was in the open and the other was in the shadows.”

Professor Slughorn suddenly felt an alarm go off in his head, as if he were back in World War II, encountering German warplanes flying over London.

At that moment, Nietzsche sensed something was wrong. His mustache and goatee, as if they had become real, began to prick into his flesh, causing a slight stinging pain.

“Let me see those newcomers. I heard Daphne has broken away from the Greengrass family,” Slughorn changed the subject.

“Of course, I’m happy to help…” Hermione’s eyes were filled with impatience, but she still stuck a finger out from between her closed wizarding robes and pointed at Nietzsche, saying, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

“I’m perfectly fine.” Nietzsche kept pursing his lips, trying to ease the itching after the sting.

He wondered if this little prop was causing problems again, just like wigs always seem to cause skin issues.

The corridor was crowded with food delivery staff and little wizards carrying luggage. After the train started to sound its loud whistle and spew steam, more students of varying ages came in.

Besides the prefects, Nietzsche also saw George and Fred, who were looking around among them, and Daphne, who kept a clear distance from everyone else.

Generally speaking, Gryffindor and Slytherin students are hostile to each other, but now we can see the Weasley twins being held by the ears by Daphne and not daring to utter a single word, only looking very resentful.

"I think this is a good opportunity to get to know everyone better. Please sit down, make yourselves at home!" Slughorn welcomed them with enthusiastic applause.

Nietzsche was relieved that Hermione wasn't among them, and his performance became much more natural.

Not every student here is a class leader, but they are all prominent figures in their own right now. For example, Daphne, although she broke with her family with her sister, has now reaped a great deal of benefits.

“Miss Greengrass, I often hear people from the Ministry of Magic mention you.” The professor grinned from ear to ear. “So young, and already holding real power before even graduating… that’s not something just anyone can do.”

"But I still have to go to school~" Daphne seemed very uncomfortable, her brows never relaxed.

She glanced at Nietzsche as well, but couldn't discern anything amiss, so she simply sat up straight in her chair, like a proper judge.

"Is it because of your sister?" Slughorn asked.

"Pretty much, but more because school is easier." Daphne sat between the Weasley twins, looking very serious.

“Yeah, the higher you sit, the busier you’ll be.” Slughorn turned to George and said, “Your dad doesn’t seem to work at the Muggle Misuse Department anymore, does he?”

At this moment, George and Fred were busy dealing with the snacks in front of them, stuffing a handful into their mouths and secretly stuffing the rest into their pockets.

Both of them were clearly not short of money, but they still liked to play these little tricks in serious situations, and they enjoyed it immensely. Nietzsche caught a glimpse of Slughorn twitching his face several times out of the corner of his eye.

“Dad?” George said, using his licorice wand as a utensil and forking a boiled egg. “He was transferred to that… how was it again? Percy used to envy Crouch’s job before he retired.”

Daphne covered her face and whispered a reminder: "International Department of Magical Cooperation."

Nietzsche felt sorry for her; having two of the most restless Weasleys as subordinates must be a real headache.

“Oh right, it’s the Cooperation Division. Dad really enjoys dealing with Muggles.” Fred rattled off a string of names even Nietzsche had never heard of. “They’re in charge of major incident repairs, evacuations, and rescue operations.”

Slughorn was awkward all afternoon, like an old countryman who had just arrived in the city.

There were so many new department names and contents that he and Nietzsche had never heard of before, which meant that most of the second half of the book was spent by George and Fred talking about interesting anecdotes about the Ministry of Magic.

Finally, the train pulled into Hogsmeade Station in the red glow of the setting sun.

"With so many outstanding wizards at Hogwarts this year, you might as well join my Slug Club if you'd like," the professor said, lighting an oil lamp and standing in the doorway.

Because 'slug' is a name derived from 'Slug', the Weasley twins couldn't help but laugh out loud.

“We’re not interested in slugs,” Fred said with a chuckle.

"It's not a real slug! It's just a platform... You can interact with each other, and even learn from my former students," Slughorn said, emphasizing each word. "Excellent people become even better when they're together."

Nietzsche leaned against the car window, his expression one of utter disdain.

The result was obvious: no one wanted to join such a club. Even the Weasley twins, who were usually very lively, loudly refused with little interest, and everyone touched the badge on their chests in unison.

"Please forgive us for not being able to agree with this idea!" Qiu Zhang left without looking back.

The aloof Ravenclaw declared: "Everyone in this 'Chief's Carriage' has achieved their success through hard work."

Chapter 357 Hermione's Revenge

Everyone was fine except for Slughorn, who got a cold shoulder. Frustrated, he tossed his luggage to Nietzsche, who was left in the carriage, and shamelessly continued to invite the other students to follow him on the 'shortcut'.

The wiser Slughorn avoided bringing up those sensitive topics again, which helped him regain some goodwill.

"Hey~ Turns out he's just an old lecher." Nietzsche cursed through the car window.

Who doesn't understand that Slughorn wanted to use his vast network of connections to befriend all sorts of talented people and weave them into a network centered around him? However, this idea was no match for the death of Nietzsche.

The mental defenses that Nietzsche forged with his own death will completely sever Slughorn's selfish thoughts.

"Meow!!" A familiar cat's meow came from outside.

A ginger Persian cat struggled to climb out of the train window and fell onto the platform with a 'plop' like a persimmon, but it wasn't Hermione who picked her up, but Marvolo Sisyphus.

This is very strange. Why would Crookshan suddenly follow someone else?