Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

They hid here using the Disillusionment Charm, arriving even before Marcus.

“Taking the back path is more dangerous. It’s impossible for anyone to set up an ambush on the wide, frozen Black Lake. The only place they would ambush us is when we are most relaxed—just a second before we get in the car.”

Hermione couldn't believe that if Nietzsche hadn't noticed the white mist's projection on the snow and the footprints, the curse would have struck from behind the moment she stepped onto the train.

This is equivalent to being surrounded by thugs at the alley entrance right after graduating from elementary school.

“Yugadiem Leviosa~” Nietzsche keenly noticed that a Slytherin wanted to attack Hermione, so he used the Levitation Charm to make her float.

The Levitation Curse... no, according to Quirrell, this should be an advanced strangulation curse.

He turned to Hermione and said, "You go up first, I just want to ask you something."

“Okay, remember the train’s departure time. You only have twenty minutes.” Hermione shook her head helplessly, turned and walked halfway, then turned back to look at him seriously and said, “We’re different from them. Remember your limits.”

The crowd automatically made way for Hermione, who put her hands in her pockets and boarded the train.

Without the protection of the Ironclad Charm, the wizard was helpless against Nietzsche's Levitation Charm, just like an ordinary person encountering a dark wizard. To prevent the spell from being cast without a staff, both of his arms were twisted and dislocated.

Because the person couldn't open their mouth, their screams could only circulate in their throat.

“I’ve said before that I won’t stop you from staying in your own little circle and playing your own power games and underhanded tactics. But it’s a different story if you keep standing in our way.”

“You want to destroy Slytherin…you want to destroy it!” Marcus struggled to break free of the ropes binding him.

Nietzsche spat out a piece of licorice root, making a sucking sound like he was teasing a dog.

“Flint, when the new era arrives, the last man will stay in his own land and at most spend some Galleons. If he blocks the way, he will be mercilessly crushed by the wheels of history... By the way, you don’t know what a wheel is.”

How can this be considered ruining Slytherin? Nietzsche made it better.

The person who was hung up was the one who was first knocked down; yes, it was the wizard who called Hermione a 'Mudblood'.

He suddenly felt his arms go free, hanging limply at his sides. Then, it felt as if a tightening rope was being pulled over his throat, and fear shot from his eyes.

He'll die... He'll just be hanged like that...

If you contract it just a little more, the larynx will break.

"What do you want? Money? A voice in Slytherin? A prefect?"

Nietzsche suddenly smiled, lowered his right hand, and released Slytherin, who was floating in the air.

The treatment lasted about three days, and the psychological recovery took about six months. As for the bad breath... it has been completely cured.

"Tell me, what is the meaning of a wizard's existence?" He muttered to himself before the other could think. "To prove that they are a new kind of human? I don't need power or money. Flint, don't mistake me for someone you used to fool."

"I don't know what you're talking about..."

"You created the mysterious man, didn't you? A humanoid weapon to announce your power to the world."

Mentioning this name silenced everyone; some gasped in horror, an invisible fear hanging over them as if something in the distant birch forest was watching them.

After Warrington recovered his senses, he even took a few steps back, still shocked by the incident.

“What nonsense are you spouting? Look at who you’re following, a conceited madman!” Flint raised his hand and pointed the tip of his wand at Nietzsche.

The next second, a sharp pain shot through his fingertips. Flint pulled his hand back and realized that his five fingers were squeezed together, twisted beyond recognition as if a rope were wrapped around the handle of a wand.

Nietzsche, however, remained unmoved, simply staring at him coldly.

"When the conflict between new capital and landlords becomes very acute, war will break out. However, powerful individual wizards will change the course of the war, and you are also good at winning over some... special geniuses."

"Purebloods don't care who wins or loses; all you need to do is leave an unhealable wound in the magical world."

Sherlock's words reminded Nietzsche that the situation of wizards was different from that of the outside world; their long-term isolation had led them to develop a complacent attitude.

After witnessing the sorrow and pain brought by war, they did not rush towards the enemy in anger, but instead chose reconciliation. This 'weakness' is precisely the reason why the purebloods still exist.

In other words, wizards possess the ability to change the course of events, yet they are nearsighted.

"Is...is this true?" Warrington wanted to forget what he had heard earlier that day.

“Who knows?” Nietzsche tilted his head. “At least he won’t be captain next year, Captain Warrington. It’s strange…why are dark wizards trying to disrupt the balance between the British government and the wizarding world lately?”

He boarded the train without looking back, entered Hermione's carriage, and gazed through the window at the crowd gathering again, lost in thought.

Flint was right about one thing—Warrington and his ilk wanted to find someone to follow and admire, but Nietzsche refused; he didn't want to become like that.

Worship is not a good driving force. He wants them to be fully committed, so he must let them know that they are actually doing it for themselves, and not that they see everything as a means of surrender.

The train whistled, and Hermione closed her eyes, trying not to think about these trivial matters.

What will happen to Flint?

"You won't be expelled, but you'll be seriously injured off-campus." Nietzsche lowered the curtains and closed his eyes. "Rest for a while; there's still one night before you go home."

Chapter Fifty-Two: That Bastard Dad Sherlock

Nietzsche was awakened when the first rays of morning sunlight shone through the glass onto his eyelids.

The rumble of the train and the sound of Mercury pecking at a can of meat were all around him, occasionally mixed with the sound of Hermione turning the pages of a book. The first thing he saw when he opened his eyes was Hermione's legs sticking out under the table and her snow boots.

The boot opening is surrounded by a white fur trim, which should feel nice to the touch.

"We're almost at the station..."

“Let Sherlock come to me himself.” Nietzsche pressed his hat to his face to block out the light.

The Hogwarts Express slowed down, and Hermione parted the curtains on her side, seeing a man in a formal suit standing in the crowd, his temples slightly upturned, with a couple standing beside him.

Sherlock Holmes has indeed arrived.

How could an ordinary person get through that wall?

"It's just a Muggle Confusion Charm. It's nothing to him. He must have come in with the parents of other half-wizards." Nietzsche wished he could die in this carriage so he wouldn't have to work overtime.

“Okay…I thought my parents could come in too.” Hermione said, sounding a little disappointed.

Who wouldn't want to see their parents standing in front of them at the train station, opening their arms to welcome them after just three months at school?

But she quickly realized why: the Grangers were dentists, a typical middle-class family in Britain, and the middle class is often the most conservative; they were worried about breaking the rules of the wizards.

On the platform, Watson noticed that many people kept glancing in their direction, so he would occasionally straighten his collar and then roll up his sleeves to check his watch.

Finally, Holmes couldn't hold back any longer, so as soon as the train doors opened, he said:

“They’re not country bumpkins, Watson, they just never interact with the outside world.”

"I was just checking the time." He felt uneasy, so he added, "Besides, didn't you notice the curious looks from the wizards around us when we went to Gringotts to exchange money?"

Those wizards didn't even know much about paper money and coins, while the goblins were used to seeing these things.

After a while, the group finally saw Nietzsche and Hermione getting off the train. Watson instinctively stepped forward to lift their luggage, while Sherlock put his arm around them.

“Merry Christmas, children,” Mary smiled gently. “How’s the new school?”

"Excellent, perfect. The students are all very kind, each college and dean has its own unique characteristics, and sometimes we even see other organisms causing trouble, which greatly enriches the field of biology..."

"You're planning to become a warehouse manager in the magical world; you've got a Mycroft vibe about you."

Sherlock glanced at Hermione, his hawk-like gaze causing the girl to look away.

“He’s my assistant at school, just like you and…Watson’s dad. Someone like you who only goes out when asked to do so, you’re definitely not just here to visit your son, are you?”

“A month ago, an American ambassador died, and the Scottish police station has been temporarily declared a ‘self-immolation’.” Sherlock nodded approvingly and led the way out of the wall, back to the real King’s Cross station.

He had mentioned this in his letter, so Nietzsche knew what he was talking about.

"Looks like Uncle's going to have to work overtime again..."

The deceased was the U.S. ambassador and a member of the Four Orders.

The four knightly orders were the Knights Templar, the Knights Hospitaller, the Teutonic Knights of Livonia, and the Knights of Santiago, but they were indeed disbanded long ago and have now become one of the links between high-ranking British officials and dignitaries.

“Get in the car and we’ll talk. They just got back from school.” Watson tossed his luggage into the trunk and rolled his eyes at him. “You look like Lestrade came looking for you, helpless… and a little anxious.”

Hermione didn't want to investigate these rumors; she simply stood there looking around.

Mary, being a teacher, immediately noticed the change in her emotions and said softly, "Your parents are waiting for you at home."

Watson was driving, Mary was sitting in the passenger seat, and Holmes sat in the middle of the back seat like a little kid, quite satisfied with the position.

“Wait a minute, you’re right, but what does that have to do with me?” Nietzsche deliberately feigned indifference.

"Because this was clearly not a self-immolation case. It was raining heavily on the day of the incident, and the deceased had no flammable materials other than a handgun. Furthermore, two bullets were missing from the magazine, and the driver who picked him up that day did not have an umbrella."

Hermione instinctively sensed something was wrong; she had gotten herself into a trap!

No, no, no, she's just a student at a magic school. Let's forget about things involving international disputes and dark wizards... Watson noticed Hermione's blank stare in the rearview mirror.

He pursed his lips, suppressing a smile, remembering how he had felt back then.

"Hmm, the deceased must have been soaked before being burned. What kind of spell can summon flames?" Nietzsche frowned, deep in thought. "Hermione, isn't your Charms class the best?"

"Don't give me that!" Hermione turned her head away.

"It seems even Professor Flitwick's favorite student doesn't know. I'll go back and check again..."

"There are many spells that can summon flames, such as the fire spell and the lily of the valley fire spell that can burn underwater. If the corpse is well preserved, then we can rule out the Fiendfyre spell... You would know this if you had read a little beforehand!"

Watson shook his head slightly; it seemed that McGregor hadn't managed to stay calm in the end.

That's normal, considering how young she is... It's not that we can ignore it in the future, but over time we'll get used to the Holmes family's roundabout provocations.

Watson continued, following her words: "The internal organs were completely carbonized, but the clothes on the body's exterior were preserved better than the skin, so the ignition point was inside the deceased's body."

No one wanted to believe that a person's body could suddenly catch fire; they preferred to believe that the clothes were put on after Ambassador Stan Dis had been completely burned to death, while the body was still hot.

The problem is that this is completely unnecessary, and there's even the worry of leaving clues on the clothes.

“There is no crime in this world that is so perfect that it leaves no trace. Since it does not conform to the behavioral norms of ordinary people, then I need the two of you... Would you like to go out and relax during the holidays?” Sherlock suddenly said to Hermione.

“I think she wants to spend time with her parents. We’ve arrived.” Hua Sheng parked the car at the edge of the residential area.

Hermione dragged her luggage numbly, crossing the wooden houses one after another, and finally arrived at the land belonging to the Granger family. When she saw her mother standing under the eaves, she immediately forgot about what had just happened.

Hermione's heart melted when she saw her mother wearing gloves and standing at the door, gazing into the distance.

Nietzsche watched silently as Hermione opened the gate to the yard and rushed into her mother's arms. He remained silent until the car stopped on Baker Street, his index finger rhythmically tapping on the doorknob.

Everything outside the window appeared in his eyes and then quickly disappeared.

Holmes did not disturb his son's thoughts, but simply waited quietly for the Christmas present to arrive.