Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Needless to say, Harry must have taken plenty of powerful sleeping potions like Hellfire on a regular basis; Marvolo, at least, used to be one of the best in Slytherin; and Hermione was already able to make such sleeping potions as early as her second year.

Perhaps out of fear, during the evaluation at the end of class, Slughorn chose Marvolo as the winner from among the three perfectly pale blue potions.

Slughorn looked at the indifferent Nietzsche and finally realized what was happening, but he still couldn't understand how the other party could have infiltrated the school.

Abandoned by his students in the empty classroom, Professor Slughorn raised his chubby hand and covered his face like a helpless child, but this gesture only made the dark lord reveal an even more cunning side.

Through his fingers, one could see Slughorn staring in horror: "He really did split his soul seven times?"

Seven splits mean seven murders; Voldemort created seven Horcruxes.

Clearly, such self-interested individuals with certain bottom lines will strongly reject their own wrongdoings. Only by breaking down their psychological defenses will they inadvertently reveal some secrets. Therefore, Nietzsche was quite satisfied with his intimidation.

The ring, Marvolo himself, Harry, the snake, and the locket—that makes five. So now there are two left.

"It seems you know a lot," Nietzsche rolled his eyes, continuing his deception, "You taught him to split his soul?"

His voice was ethereal and suggestive to the ears of the mentally broken man. The elderly Professor Slughorn, struggling with regret and self-blame, could no longer muster any strength after seeing Harry and Marvolo.

Nietzsche secretly took out his wand and used a Confusion Charm to distract the other person's mind.

Watch closely, he'll only demonstrate once. The real Confusion Charm can be used not only to interfere with Muggles' perception, but also in this way!

“I didn’t teach him to split, it was just…it was just an academic discussion…I didn’t know he would succeed…” The professor was in low spirits and continued to evade his mistake.

Slughorn might still be a bit stubborn, knowing full well that the topics he was discussing were forbidden at school, but he still put them aside for the sake of immediate petty gains.

Since his subconscious mind tends to escape, Nietzsche guided him by following his escapist thinking.

“The Dark Lord has a good relationship with you; he won’t harm you,” Nietzsche said slowly, confusing the other’s logic. “You were just having an academic discussion… In that case, could he have mentioned other academic topics?”

“Academic content?” Slughorn stared intently at the golden stains in the crucible, his brow relaxing slightly.

The dried-up Felix Felicis had turned into a viscous liquid like golden paint, clinging to the inner wall of the small crucible. Slughorn's consciousness sank slowly down with the waste liquid.

Has he contacted you again?

Nietzsche's dreamlike voice seemed to gently pry open Slughorn's lock.

“He did it once after graduation,” the professor said haltingly. “He wanted to become the Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, but Headmaster Armando refused.”

While these fragments may not be considered major clues, Nietzsche remained wary of them: they suggested that Voldemort had been planning to take over Hogwarts for a long time.

Nietzsche's wand flickered, canceling the effect of the Confusion Charm, and he left the underground classroom before the professor could recover.

Chapter 363 The War in the Forbidden Forest

"I am a pureblood!" The imagined corpse Morfin Gaunt stood in the middle of the corridor, yelling at the ignoring young wizards, "I am a true pureblood... hiss!"

Parsleyan, the hallmark of the Slytherin lineage.

After Nietzsche emerged from the basement corridor, everything around him slowed down dramatically. His intense concentration made him acutely aware of everything happening around him: chatting, walking, turning pages, chewing... all these sounds were amplified.

He fled the hall quickly, with the mummified corpse Morfen in pursuit.

Suddenly, Nietzsche noticed a pair of withered hands on his shoulders, which made him abruptly pull out his wand and turn around, only to find that the person who had come to greet him was Marvolo.

"So, have you gotten anything out of this?" Marvolo waved his right hand in front of him, frowning as he said, "I saw Slughorn acting very strangely at the door. If we keep messing around like this, he might break down prematurely."

Nietzsche breathed a sigh of relief; at least he wasn't talking to himself.

"I'm thinking about Horcruxes... Voldemort went back to the school once after graduating, and his goal was related to the founder's relics."

The Slytherin locket belonging to the Gaunt family was the founder's treasure, and the diary that split off, though ordinary, was significant in that it represented the 'Slytherin successor' symbolized by the Chamber of Secrets, and marked the beginning of Voldemort's madness.

Judging from this series of items, Voldemort may have returned to the school to search for the remaining treasures:

Hufflepuff Cup, Ravenclaw Crown, Gryffindor Sword, Slytherin Locket.

“But the Gryffindor sword might still be there, let me think…” Nietzsche asked. “Do you remember?”

“Those things didn’t happen before Myrtle was killed.” Marvolo shook his head, unable to help with the whereabouts of these treasures.

The diary was the first Horcrux. Only after successfully splitting his soul would Voldemort begin to plot the second and third. Therefore, Marvolo, as the first part to be split, had no idea about Voldemort's path.

Nietzsche wasn't in a hurry; now he just needed to figure out the whereabouts of the Soul-Slaying Weapon...

He left Hogwarts Castle and followed the path in his memory, walking along the marks on the tree trunks into the depths of the Forbidden Forest, where the once lush vegetation was gradually replaced by scorched soil.

“Swoosh—”

An arrow flew past them at an unusual speed, grazing their hair perfectly; taking even half a step more would have resulted in a direct hit.

"Get out of here, little pony." A deep voice echoed through the Forbidden Forest.

Following the sound, Nietzsche discovered that the robust centaur with reddish-brown hair was not hiding in the bushes or among the charcoal, but rather on the branch of a thick tree.

The green leaves overhead and the sunlight filtering through made the centaur look as beautiful as a highland elf.

“Bane?” Nietzsche shielded his eyes from the sun with his hands, barely recognizing the centaur with exceptional archery skills.

The familiar greeting startled Bain, which nimbly leaped between several branches with its powerful limbs, jumping down from a height of tens of meters.

The other party didn't recognize him at first, and even after landing, he cautiously drew his bow to its full extent.

Nietzsche raised his wand, and a powerful magical force connected with the energy field around Bane, tearing all the weapons in his hand into the air and crushing them into pieces... How familiar this scene was, just like when they first met and confronted each other.

"Nietzsche?" Bain seemed excited, raising his two front hooves high and 'ramming' towards him quickly.

Although he could understand the centaur's joy, no one would want to withstand a centaur's embrace; he felt as if his waist was about to be broken.

“Why are you only coming back now? I knew it… Ferenze’s prophecy would never be wrong.” Bain put him down after hearing him cough incessantly, stared at him for a long time, and finally uttered, “You’ve gotten old.”

“This is the price, my friend.” Nietzsche lowered his eyelids, adopting a profound and enigmatic demeanor.

Before Nietzsche could finish his performance, Marvolo swiftly ripped off his beard, causing Nietzsche to wince in pain.

Having not been here for almost a year, Nietzsche quickly scanned the area and noticed that the centaurs' equipment was much better than before: hard horseshoes were fitted on their hooves, and a piece of wood was now hanging from their previously bare chests.

It should be noted that the centaur have always valued 'being close to nature' and never wear clothes to cover themselves.

“The Forbidden Forest is more lively than before.” Nietzsche pieced the fragments back together. “It’s restored to its original state.”

Bain picked up a wood-chopping axe and cleared a new path for the two behind him, saying, "You guessed right, your judgment is still as sharp as ever. Not only is the Forbidden Forest more dangerous, but we've also moved some of our original tribe to the edge."

Nietzsche and Marvolo exchanged a glance; it was clear that Voldemort had already made strategic deployments around the Forbidden Forest.

They were getting further and further away from the castle, and even almost circled around to the area opposite the Black Lake before they saw a huge town made of wood and stone, which was much larger than before, judging from the number of centaurs.

"We have united the entire centaur tribe of the Forbidden Forest," Bain said proudly in a loud voice.

It was extremely rare for over a hundred centaurs to gather at the edge of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts.

“It’s Hermione…” Marvolo seemed to see his confusion and explained, “She received a request from the centaurs and helped them use magic to relocate more than a dozen centaur tribes here.”

Nietzsche blinked and looked around. He noticed that the centaur society was also quietly changing because of this gathering: they began to try trade, engage in precise division of labor and cooperation, and differentiate into more detailed regions and roads.

He was genuinely happy for Bain, but felt a sense of disappointment—he hadn't seen the Norwegian spinal dinosaur.

"What happened in the Forbidden Forest while I was away?" Nietzsche followed them to a stone house, and upon entering, he discovered that it was a large hall filled with torches.

Ronan hadn't changed much; he was sitting in a circle with several other elderly centaurs, whispering to each other.

“Invasion,” Bane said. “A bunch of outsiders have completely disrupted the balance of nature. If it were just a few more vampire and werewolf lairs, that would be fine, that would be normal. But they’re trying to win over those filthy eight-eyed giants.”

“All the centaur tribes that couldn’t reach an agreement with them were hunted down. Left with no other choice, we chose to migrate to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which is our territory!”

Centaurs are very territorial and will stand firmly in defense of the Forbidden Forest if anything is deemed an invasion.

Of course, nobody took the centaurs' migration seriously. At least the wizards at the school didn't know about Voldemort's plan. In their view, the centaurs were probably just complaining about territory again.

This isn't something that happened overnight. For example, Hagrid used to always have a headache because his "little darling" was fighting with the centaurs.

"Elder Ronan!" Bain's horse hooves crushed the gravel on the ground as it shouted, "Look who's back! I told you Ferenze's prophecy was right!"

Ronan slowly shifted his gaze, pausing briefly on Nietzsche as a greeting.

"What nonsense are you spouting now?" it scolded softly. "I clearly thought Ferencze's prophecy was the least accurate."

The truth is a sharp knife.

“So…” Ni looked at Bane with a resentful gaze and said, “Actually, you’re the one who thinks I’m dead, right?”

Chapter 364 "Master of Micro-Management"

"Jupiter's light will outshine Mars, and we will meet under the guidance of the stars." Ronan, draped in a long Roman-style robe woven from large leaves and fine willow twigs, spoke gently, reciting obscure astrological prophecies.

That's how horsemen are; the older they get, the more they like to spout a series of riddles.

Nietzsche looked over and saw several new faces he had never seen before. They stood side by side behind Ronan, whispering to the two wizards who had entered.

However, because Nietzsche had dealt with centaurs for many years, he had some knowledge of astrology instilled in him:

Mars signifies war. The centaurs, who highly value astrological prophecies, received guidance from Jupiter and established a defensive line on the edge of the Forbidden Forest at Hogwarts to protect their territory. It was through this that they met Nietzsche.

Simply put, it means 'fate is guiding us'.

However, Nietzsche merely interpreted the riddle of the centaurs and did not believe in prophecy.

There were no chairs, but out of pride and his personality, Marvolo used magic to conjure up a low stool for himself. Nietzsche, on the other hand, didn't care about such things; he just stomped his feet and casually chose a spot that wasn't too dirty to sit on.

"Have you told Hagrid about the Forbidden Forest?" Nietzsche asked.

“Wizards rarely get involved in the conflicts between magical creatures,” Ronan said, poking the fire with a thick stick and tilting his head. “In fact, we haven’t really put Hagrid in a difficult position, otherwise he would have been caught in the middle of a bunch of animals.”

"That's true, not to mention he's now a professor of magizoology..."

The sparks in the center of the Centaur Hall rose high into the air, flying out from the open-air dome overhead like sparkling butterflies; it would have been even more beautiful if it were nighttime.

Nietzsche thought the centaurs didn't want to drag the other sorcerers into it, and only saw it as a territorial dispute. Ronan raised his head to a 45-degree angle, his eyes revealing an extremely sad expression, as if there was another hidden story behind it.

“Professor? You think we’re worried about Hagrid’s job? No, Hagrid’s love for magical creatures stems more from his own origins…” Ronan said softly.

No one is born liking to do something, and Hagrid is no exception. He wasn't born with an innate love for magical creatures.

Many people in this world love magical creatures, such as Newt Scamander, who wrote "Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them" and made a name for himself in the field of magical zoology. These people are completely different from Hagrid.

Hermione had previously taken a course in Magical Zoology as an elective, and her assessment of the course was 'terrible'.

Honestly, no one would find a bunch of hybrid frizzy snails cute, or even consider their violent nature as normal.

Hagrid was born of giants, as was Madame Maxim, but the former acknowledged his lineage and considered himself part of the magical creatures, while the latter affirmed that he was a 'human'.

“He was a hybrid giant, I know that,” Nietzsche nodded and said.