Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

It is engraved on it:

'Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohs i'

If you turn it upside down, it becomes a complete sentence: What I show you is not your face, but my desire.

Immediately afterwards, Dumbledore's voice drew his attention.

"When did it begin...? Let's start from when Quirinus resigned from Muggle Studies and went to the Albanian Forest." Dumbledore waved his hand, lowering the curtain to block the portrait. "Relax, just listen carefully."

That was Quirrell's action, fueled by theory, as he sought to gain firsthand practical information about black magic in preparation for his new role.

Immediately afterwards, Dumbledore pulled a Muggle newspaper from the drawer. It was the Tirana Daily from southeastern Europe, dated around 1990, and the news on it described a sudden mass of animal deaths in the forest.

Nietzsche had seen this report before, and it even sparked a period of debate about wildlife protection laws.

"Quirinas was originally an expert in Muggle studies, so he naturally saw the news. He planned to go there to deal with some dark creatures or... life-draining dark wizards."

"So he was threatened at that time?" Nietzsche reacted quickly.

“That’s right, and that person is just as you deduced—a dark wizard from the last war, far more dangerous than an ordinary dark wizard.”

In the wizarding world, the only ones more feared and loathed than dark wizards are the Death Eaters, as Ron Weasley described. They adhere to the tenet of absolute pure blood and hierarchy, so most of them are either pure-bloods or half-bloods of noble families.

The Death Eaters were almost all Slytherins, which led to Slytherin's extremely poor reputation before Nietzsche arrived.

“As I said, we have no choice but to let fate push us forward, child.” Dumbledore took off his glasses and wiped them with his sleeve. “And Quirinus is no different from those animals now.”

The old man lowered his head, his eyelashes trembling slightly, but he still did not show any signs of weakness.

It was as if he had seen too much in his life, to the point that Nietzsche felt a slight indifference, a self-protective mechanism, a brief escape, when faced with helplessness.

"Hagrid is an honest man; he's just showing off to me how many great people he knows among his elders... Headmaster Dumbledore, if we have a second chance, then there's still a way to get what we need from the treasures left by Nick Flamel."

Nietzsche, who had been restless just moments before, suddenly calmed down.

In the principal's description, what Nicolas Flamel left behind was a chance for a second life. The puzzle was already quite simple. Whatever it was, that was the dark wizard's goal, and also Quirrell's own opportunity.

"you mean...

“If you’d like, you can give him this opportunity.”

"Calling it a relic isn't entirely accurate, since the owner of the treasure isn't dead yet, but it's close enough." Dumbledore pondered for a moment. "I need to discuss this with Nick Flamel."

It wasn't that Dumbledore was unwilling, but rather that he didn't have the right to use it; he was only responsible for its protection.

He saw through Nietzsche's thoughts: the child did not delve into the so-called 'second chance at life,' but willingly gave it up to those who needed it, like the sun, rising in the east and setting in the west just so that everyone could enjoy the light.

"What plan do you have in mind?" Dumbledore wanted to hear his ideas.

"Judging from the dark wizard's purpose, the other party needs this huge opportunity, so I can let him get it, because we can manipulate it in reverse... Quirrell also needs his life."

This sounds like a gamble.

“What if Quirrell hadn’t done that? It was a gamble… I’m sorry, but I don’t want to agree with that.”

“Principal, you’re wrong. Regarding what you just said, ‘We have no choice’... Every life, in any situation, will always have one option, and that is the most radical suicide.”

Nietzsche did not believe that Quirrell was forced into this situation; he believed that Quirrell was free.

Even death cannot free you from freedom.

“You may not know what you’re saying, Nietzsche. The other party is not an ordinary Death Eater, but the one who hates Harry the most. What you experienced yesterday was just one of his whims.”

“Perhaps you should try to believe…” Nietzsche yawned and drifted off to sleep, feeling dizzy and lightheaded.

His hands were on the headmaster's chair, his head tilted to the side, as if he were dreaming of countless choices of freedom. He was sleeping soundly, and Dumbledore did not disturb him. Instead, he took a blanket and covered the student with it.

Nietzsche was exhausted; a whole night of thinking and pondering had drained all his energy.

Belief—a heavy word for Dumbledore.

After waiting quite a while, Dumbledore finally pulled up the curtain covering the portrait.

“How arrogant, isn’t it?” Headmaster Black glanced outside. “Truly worthy of Slytherin, heh heh.”

"In fact, I'm quite surprised that Albus would even let a student sit in his chair," a headmaster wearing a monocle said with a laugh. "Good heavens, another Slytherin!"

"Armando, Slytherin simply lacks the right guidance..."

"Do you really want to involve him in this?" The young woman in the white wizard's robe looked worriedly at the sleeping Nietzsche. "He has done enough; at least you can confirm his identity now."

The principals spoke in hushed tones, even Principal Blake, who had just had a sullen face.

It seemed they had only been trying to scare the student, after all... now they could only dart around in the portraits and find their own amusement.

“But he doesn’t want to give up on others, you know?” Dumbledore’s expression was complicated as he rubbed his crooked nose. “He has already surpassed many people, and I must say, his plan is very tempting to me.”

"No, you can't let a child face that kind of guy..."

"This is my choice, my freedom, and Nietzsche's freedom. We... insist on doing so."

Phineas was the most irritable; he angrily pounded on the armrest and sat there cursing at Dumbledore.

"You old geezer, you clearly can't stand to see Slytherin doing well. We finally have a genius, and you want to send him to his death... or rather, send him to meet a heartless madman!"

“Wait a minute…don’t you always say that madman is actually pretty good?” Armando interjected.

Phineas Black was immediately rendered speechless.

Dumbledore picked up the empty water glass from the table, smiled helplessly, refilled it, and then took out a bottle of Dreamless Sleeping Potion from the side and dripped a few drops into it.

After finishing his drink, he sat on the sofa behind Nietzsche and closed his eyes to rest.

Today is Sunday, no classes. Professor Snape sat in the empty classroom for a long time, but Nietzsche didn't come. So he simply closed the door, hugged his lame leg, and started making healing potions by himself.

It wasn't Nietzsche who knocked on the Potions classroom door again, but Professor Quirrell, who was wrapped in a headscarf.

Hermione couldn't find Nietzsche in the library either, so she had to search for information about Nicolas Flamel all by herself.

"I don't want to watch anymore, I feel like throwing up."

“At least we can’t let Nietzsche do everything by himself, Harry. Go and get me ‘The History of Modern Magic and Outstanding Wizards’.”

In the Slytherin common room, several upperclassmen who had been punished by Snape were thinking of secretly settling scores with Nietzsche, but they waited for a long time and he did not return, and there was no one in the dormitory.

Theodore sent Hubble with a few men to tour the castle, intending to remind Nietzsche to be careful on his return...

On the day he wasn't at Hogwarts, everyone seemed busy, but they all felt like something was missing.

No one expected that the person they were anxiously waiting for was now sitting in the principal's office, sleeping without a conscience.

Thanks to Principal Dumbledore for the sleeping potion...

At least Nietzsche didn't have to drag his tired body back to his dormitory to deal with those inferior people.

(Hmph, a mere eight thousand words, not worth mentioning! After that, I'll just follow the plot and occasionally add some filler to relax.)

By the way, I'll prepare for the book group after I finish writing the first book~)

Chapter 49 So the little snakes reassessed everything

(Sorry for the wait, everyone)

It's perfectly normal to have a mirror in the principal's office, but who would have a mirror that's two meters or even taller, and that's usually wrapped in gauze?

Even so, it couldn't conceal the golden border with its intricate patterns and the claw-shaped supporting feet.

Nietzsche didn't stretch and wake up from his chair until almost dinnertime. His hair was messy and his clothes were askew from his sleeping movements. He decided to borrow the mirror.

'Eris Stella Ehru Ai Teubi Kafer Ru Ait Ang Voches'

A positive translation is a long list of names, while a negative translation is a warning.

When he actually looked in the mirror, he realized it wasn't a hoax, because Nietzsche didn't see his own reflection... or rather, he didn't see a single person.

The background has also changed, from a circular room to a street.

“This is the Mirror of Erised. I don’t know who made it or in which century it was created.” Dumbledore sat on the sofa, looking at him blankly. “It can reflect a person’s deepest desires.”

"Is it a predetermined outcome?"

"Unfortunately, that's not the case..."

Nietzsche thought it was something like time travel, seeing what his future self would look like, but it was clearly not.

Judging from Dumbledore's description, it seems more like a fantasy toy—allowing people to see their most powerful desires being fulfilled and to indulge in fantasy world to escape reality.

"What did you see?" Dumbledore seemed not to have recovered from the dreamless sleeping potion, and sank into the sofa.

“A…street…?” Nietzsche asked, somewhat frustrated. “There were many people on it, that’s it.”

"Gone?"

“That’s all.” Nietzsche stretched and said with a hint of disdain, “We are absolutely free and can control our own destiny, so...desire and ambition are not immutable.”

But he didn't tell the whole story. In fact, the street wasn't just full of ordinary people; half of them were wizards dressed like they were in academic gowns.

The entire street is like Diagon Alley within Cambridge University; if it would please the other portraits of the headmaster, he should say that Diagon Alley is included within the boundaries of Hogwarts School.

Ordinary people sell more exquisite crucibles, raise various pets, and motorcycles fly overhead from time to time.

Then he saw the backs of a couple, wait... they look familiar?

It's strange, and...dreamy, to the point of being absolutely harmonious, with every little detail making you feel incredibly comfortable.

“But I can’t see myself,” Nietzsche honestly said. “I’d rather focus on the choices I make in the present than the future. What about you?”

"The Mirror of Erised is just something to make up for regrets... You know, an old man like me can only see himself receiving a bunch of wool socks that he can never wear out at Christmas."

Dumbledore then added, "However, it's not good to dwell on the past all the time, so I'm going to move it out of the office."

“Oh, I thought Professor McGonagall…you know what I mean.” Nietzsche turned around and winked playfully.

Wool socks represent family affection; perhaps Dumbledore is lamenting that no one cares for him or loves him, and that he can only sit alone at school on Christmas.

It wasn't until Nietzsche left the headmaster's office that Dumbledore came to his senses, chuckled to himself, and muttered a few words in German like "little bastard."

The weather is getting colder now.

The outdoors at Hogwarts was filled with white; it looked like it had been snowing all day. The snowflakes were large, but that was normal, since Christmas was just over thirty days away.

No matter how biting the wind was outside, it couldn't penetrate Hogwarts Castle. After finishing Monday morning's classes, the young wizards immediately crowded into the places in the castle with fireplaces—the Great Hall, the Common Room, and the Library.