Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Even 221 Baker Street became unusually lively.

First, the Duke of Blackwood, who had been captured by Sherlock and executed, miraculously crawled out of his grave, and then committed a series of inexplicable murders.

The prime minister panicked and began to appease the public, ordering that the suspect be found at all costs.

"How is this possible? No chemicals... no struggle..." Sherlock sat on the sofa, frantically searching for information in his mind. "This violates the rules!"

This is a miracle of crime... a miracle?

His thoughts suddenly flashed to Irene Adeline in the Bohemian Scandal, how she escaped the siege, not to mention that she had taken Nietzsche hostage at the time.

He knocked out all the police and guards, then left with the photos in a dignified manner.

Clearly, this is not something a woman could do.

At that moment, Nietzsche came out of the room, yawning.

Good grief, it's still night?

No, of course not. Holmes simply drew all the curtains to create the feel of an interrogation room. Nietzsche passed by the old churchman lying on the table and walked toward the bay window.

"No, don't open it yet... Ah!!"

The blinding sunlight made Holmes start to lose his focus, and he slid off the sofa.

He lay on the carpet and rolled around incessantly.

"It's summer vacation now, you should go out and get some fresh air. Also... I don't want to dine at the same table as the new 'guest' tonight."

“How much time has passed, Nietzsche? Let your father catch his breath... Ah!”

“One month,” Nietzsche glanced at his watch and reminded her, “I need to go and capture some amphibians to prepare for your experiment, so…see you tonight.”

Originally, it was just him and Hermione together, but yesterday she suddenly called to say that she had guests at her house and couldn't go out to play.

Poor Nietzsche, completely manipulated by Hermione.

Just as the two were still chatting, the door opened, and a middle-aged man dressed in a black robe, who looked like he belonged to some cult, walked in silently, holding a small wooden stick in his hand.

Her jet-black hair looked greasy, even reflecting the sunlight streaming through the window.

"If you're looking for Sherlock Holmes, he's not interested in other cases right now."

Nietzsche looked at the man before him warily. He knew that the door was locked, and only the Watsons and Mrs. Hudson had the key and could open it from the outside.

But the man remained unmoved and stood blocking the doorway.

“I’m here to see you, Nietzsche John Holmes!” he said in a long, weak voice, his eyes dull. “You can call me Professor Snape, and stop deliberately losing your letters.”

As he spoke, he pulled an envelope out of his sleeve.

Nietzsche stared at the letter that had been thrown away as a prank, his pupils dilating before he ducked to the side.

He shouted, "Stalker!!"

Before Snape could even figure out what was going on, he saw Sherlock on the sofa suddenly pull out a short metal rod and point it at him. Looking through the dark hole, a sense of danger rose in his heart.

After a 0.5-second thought period, the short metal rod made a loud "bang".

Wood chips flew from the door frame next to Snape.

"Raise your hands above your head!"

"Are you guys out of your minds?!"

Nietzsche suddenly saw Snape's hand, which was holding a wooden stick, turn towards Sherlock. He quickly crouched down, using a wooden dummy as cover, and raised his right hand into a claw, aiming at Snape's right hand.

Okay, he does have some little secrets.

It was because of these "little secrets" that he was able to frequently defeat students who were taller and stronger than him.

Ni adopted what he called "The Force"!

Snape saw his movement, of course, and then a powerful, invisible force suddenly gripped his wrist and lifted him above his head.

This was something he had never expected.

"who are you."

But Snape just gritted his teeth, looked at the father and son with a viper-like gaze, and said, word by word, "I am the Potions Professor of Hogwarts, you Muggles."

When his gaze fell upon the corpse on the dining table, he immediately sensed that this family was no ordinary people.

But Sherlock showed no fear and met her gaze.

"Alright, this... professor, who are you working for?"

"I'm only working for myself! That's enough!!"

His lips uttered something, a gust of wind rose from his body, pushing Shylock and Nietzsche aside. Then, he pointed with his right hand, and a red light flashed across the room.

Sherlock then felt the Colt revolver in his hand fly out of control.

Just as Snape was about to explain, Watson silently crept up the stairwell, pulled a gun from his waist, and pressed it against the back of Snape's head.

The metal brought him only a chilling cold.

"Stop your tricks, or I'll risk being kicked out by Mrs. Hudson and kill you on the spot."

Watson rarely showed his fierce and violent side in front of children, but as Holmes' friend and guardian, he couldn't afford to be too lenient when faced with danger.

Even when Muggles pointed guns at his head, Snape showed no emotion whatsoever.

“If Dumbledore hadn’t forced me to come out for a walk, I wouldn’t have bothered dealing with this kind of thing at all.”

No sooner had they spoken than the Watsons saw Snape twist his body and, in the blink of an eye, reappear in the corner.

The gun barrel moved again, pointing directly at him.

"Reparo! (Restore to the original state)"

Snape indifferently drew a circle with the stick in his hand, and everything in the messy room began to float up and return to its original position. Curious Sherlock lay on the ground, sweeping his hands back and forth around the floating objects.

Unfortunately, there was nothing there.

"how did you do that?"

"Let me say it one last time, I am a professor at Hogwarts, and one of the heads of the households. Your son is a wizard. I must say, you are the most..."

He meant to say "freak," but swallowed the words back.

But that's just how it is!

He had never seen a Muggle's house with a corpse, or a collection of strange blueprints and dangerous weapons.

Nietzsche frowned and said, "Muggle?"

“That’s what wizards call ordinary people.” Snape watched as Watson hooked the revolver with his cane and handed it to Sherlock, his eye twitching. “This is already the most benevolent thing he could do; there’s no malice intended.”

"Tell me, what trick did you just use? The Duke of Blackwood, whom I once captured, also mentioned magic, so what kind of illusion or electromagnetic device did you just use?"

In Nietzsche's view, Shylock's exploration of new things suddenly overlapped with that of the Stark in his dream.

What are those things in your hands?

"pistol."

"Attack me... just like when I walked in, Protego (armor)."

Watson shielded Nietzsche behind him and looked at Sherlock with a bewildered expression, suddenly feeling uncertain.

Suddenly, Nietzsche's foster mother, Mary, snatched the gun and calmly fired a shot at Snape's left leg. The bullet struck the white, transparent wall.

But the huge recoil also made Snape pull his legs back.

Now everyone could see clearly that this indifferent uninvited guest was completely unharmed by the cold bullets; a thin membrane was all it took to stop them.

The mystery... This is the only thing in Sherlock's eyes.

"Nietzsche could not have been a wizard."

"Hmm...it seems he still has some secrets to hide. Why don't you try the same trick again?" Snape's hooked nose pointed toward the boy behind the Watsons, and he memorized his appearance.

"I don't know what you're talking about, I don't know anything about wizards, and I'm not going to any magic school with you."

Nietzsche had a very clear definition of himself.

His future path should be to enter the Royal Institution of London, and through his outstanding academic performance and the insights gained from his dreams, he should enter the research institute and make some contributions to humanity.

Of course... if they were ordinary children, they might aspire to become omnipotent superheroes or magicians.

But Nietzsche's bedtime stories were all about Sherlock and Watson telling various murder cases and how human nature changes in different environments.

"You...can do that too?"

Even Watson could easily sense his adopted son's calm in the face of all the strange phenomena.

"Of course he can, and he's already surpassed many wizarding students... but I'd like to remind you that using magic carelessly can lead to an 'Obscurity'."

Nietzsche corrected him: "That's called the Force."

"We are wizards, that's called magic."

He couldn't stand being stared at by the Watsons, so he raised his hand and waved at Snape.

The chair beneath the other person flew away at an extremely fast speed, finally crashing heavily onto the ceiling and breaking into several pieces.

At this moment, Professor Snape, having lost his support, was affected by gravity, his buttocks pressed intimately against the floor, his hands clenched into fists inside his black sleeves.

"Why didn't you ever tell us?!"

“Oh... I thought Aunt Eileen would tell Dad. It seems she really values ​​the agreement.”

At this point, Sherlock couldn't sit still any longer. He withdrew his probing gaze from Snape and said resentfully, "So, you were partly responsible for my two precious failures?"

Nietzsche stuck out his tongue.

The Bohemian scandal was simply because Erin had taken the governor's private photos.

At the time, she thought she would become a political victim, so the sincerity she showed was what Nietzsche remembered most vividly.

"I need this photo just to save my life."

And this was also the last thing she said to Sherlock Holmes when she left.

Chapter Four: The Real World