Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

Hermione, let's start the revolution from Hogwarts Author: The Drawing Fox

Introduction:

Nietzsche John Holmes, a child who was forcibly adopted by the Watsons during a mission, began his crazy HP magic journey from that moment on.

Hermione Granger: "You shouldn't hit your classmates, Mr. Right!"

Nietzsche Holmes: "To become a superman who resists the strong, Miss Conformist~"

He will have a series of titles in the future - the third generation Dark Lord, Superman, the secret lover of the Minister of Magic... (Sorry, it seems that some extraordinary things are mixed in)

But the first difficulty facing him is:

Sherlock Holmes, who looks like Iron Man, and Professor Snape are swearing at each other again!!

Volume 221: Chapter Letters from Baker Street, London

"The wind rolled up the dark clouds, and between the dark clouds and the sea..."

"Shut up! Nietzsche! You're messing up my thoughts! Watson, let Mrs. Hudson take him away!"

"Hey, I'm the landlord, not your servant... Smart Nietzsche, would you like a cookie?"

In Room 221, 221 Baker Street, London, a boy opened the roller blinds of the living room, looked at the gray sky, and stood in front of the arched windowsill reciting a collection of essays aloud.

Not long after, several gunshots were heard from the other end of the living room, as well as the mumbling of a middle-aged man.

Nietzsche turned around and what caught his eye was the "surprise" on the table - not some delicious food, but a corpse.

Mrs. Hudson, the landlady who had just walked in, was startled, but did not show much surprise. She seemed to be used to it. She was just a little dissatisfied when she saw the bullet holes left on the innocent wall.

Well... Nietzsche had to admit that he did it on purpose.

The man who was whipping the corpse with a whip at the dining table was the famous Sherlock Holmes. Nietzsche always felt that his adoptive father was very similar to the playboy named Iron Man in his dream.

Sherlock Holmes and Tony Stark have completely opposite personalities.

"Why don't you call the almighty Assistant Jarvis..." Nietzsche whispered to himself, taking a raccoon-patterned baked cookie from the tray.

"If I really have the omnipotent robot butler in your dream, then Watson can retire with peace of mind." Sherlock glanced back with disdain, muttering to himself.

John Watson, who was taking notes nearby, was accidentally injured for some unknown reason.

"Ahem...Nietzsche just has a very vivid imagination. Well, kid, I think you should go play with that little girl at school...Did you find anything?"

"The time of death was about two days ago. There was no gunshot wound, no fighting, no history of illness, no signs, just like..."

Nietzsche leaned over the table, sniffed the pleasant smell of gunpowder, and took over the conversation: "It's like being killed by magic."

"Interesting, our little Superman who is a bully in school has also started to believe in magic."

Sherlock wiped his stubble, held his pipe in his mouth, sank into the sofa, raised his left hand, and shot the wall again. The sudden sound made Mrs. Hudson scream.

"Sherlock!!"

But Nietzsche just calmly took out the newspaper from his schoolbag and threw it on the table.

The title on it reads "Mysterious death case, another incompetence of the English police!"

"Dad, this is the latest newspaper. Another murder occurred this morning. The deceased was a church member. People began to believe that this was a disaster sent by God. Even some people in the police station thought it was impossible."

"I'm not you... Never mind, nothing is impossible in this world!" Sherlock tilted his head, pulled the newspaper over, and asked casually while reading it, "What do you think?"

“God is dead.”

This was Nietzsche's calm answer.

"Oh my god..."

And this sigh came from Mrs. Hudson, who looked up and closed her eyes.

But Watson closed his notebook and looked at Nietzsche in disbelief.

"How did you know about the police?"

"Dad, I met Inspector Lestrade after school today, and he told me." Nietzsche said helplessly, "Please don't show that expression. After all, you can all hide a human head in the refrigerator."

"What? You put a...head in the refrigerator?!" Mrs. Hudson was even more shocked.

Sherlock and Nietzsche looked at each other.

The father and son coughed a few times in succession, then stood up and put on their windbreakers in tacit understanding, as if their nerves were connected, their movements were extremely consistent, and they walked out of the room silently.

Only the old father John Watson was left at home, facing the questioning of the landlady.

Yes, Nietzsche had two adoptive fathers - Sherlock and Watson.

And there is also a busy adoptive mother - Mary Motstein.

Although it won't be long before her name is changed to Mary Watson.

Although Nietzsche was adopted by the Watsons, in fact, because of their busy work, he spent interesting time with Sherlock Holmes almost every day...

At least for Nietzsche, it was interesting to deal with human heads and dismembered bodies every day.

"Okay, kid, you've achieved your goal." Sherlock patted the ash and twisted the tobacco in the pipe. "Tell me, what trouble have you made in school that you need me to clean up?"

"You'll find out when you get to school."

Nietzsche looked at him with disdain.

"I really don't know how Aunt Irene likes you when you look like this... If you go among the beggars now, I guarantee someone will throw a coin in your hat."

"You little lunatic with an antisocial personality, you were transferred to another school because you went too far last time... What was the name of the fat kid you beat up?"

"Dudley Dursley, a cake piled high with lard."

This was not the first time Nietzsche had beaten up his classmates.

"You're not much better!"

Sherlock scratched the stubble on his chin that had not been trimmed for a long time. He suddenly appeared outside from indoors, which made his eyes narrow.

Just as he was adjusting to the light, a postman rode past on a bicycle on the newly renovated stone pavement and quickly stuffed an envelope into Nietzsche's hands.

His voice was deep and judging by the lines on his hands, he was probably in his early fifties.

"Your envelope, Mr. Holmes."

Nietzsche turned his eyes away from the postman and touched the paper with his fingers out of habit.

It is not the industrially produced paper on the market. It is very rough and has tiny bumps that you can clearly feel. There is also a mark on the cover, which is the same as the wax mark:

A shield with a lion, snake, eagle and badger inside.

The boy looked at the letters under the mark, feeling a little strange. "Hogwarts? I don't remember filling in this school."

However, Nietzsche did not say much. He just thought for a while while walking. When he turned into Baker Street, he opened the letter leisurely.

It says:

Dear Nietzsche John Holmes, We are pleased to inform you that you have been admitted to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Attached is the list of required books and equipment.

Semester Orientation starts on September 1st, please send your reply via Owl immediately.

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore.

Deputy Headmistress: Minerva McGonagall.

Sherlock Holmes poked his head out curiously and asked, "What does it say?"

"A magic school... Don't you think it's a coincidence that such a letter was sent within a few days of a religious murder? Is this a warning?"

Nietzsche frowned and handed the envelope to the sloppy adoptive father.

He is a professional when it comes to finding clues.

When Sherlock first received the letter, he also touched the texture of the paper, then put it under his nose and sniffed it hard. Finally, after making sure that Nietzsche had finished reading the letter, he licked it with his tongue.

He even smacked his lips in savoring the taste.

"Ancient handmade kraft paper... with a hint of chocolate sweetness, interesting... Was that a letter sent by a human?"

"What else? There are no mobile phones that are like miniature TVs now."

"But the letter emphasizes that you must reply with an owl, but animals are not qualified to deliver letters. They must be professionally trained. Even if it is a threatening letter, it is too unprofessional."

Sherlock frowned and threw the letter into the trash can with some disappointment.

"So this is a prank?"

"Then the reason for drawing up a list of books later is just to make people think it's a real thing?" Sherlock then threw it into the trash can beside him. "Maybe it's just to deceive naive children like you."

Whether it was a prank, a threat, or a real school, through the last clue, no matter how real it was, everything became a bubble.

No indication of the designated owl!

But the only thing that is certain is that their residence is exposed.

"Who would go to that kind of magic school?" Nietzsche said contemptuously, "I will devote myself to all mankind from now on!"

"Because of the dreams you had in your head?"

"I always feel that those things really happened. Father, you have to admit that some things cannot be described in words. Language itself is a kind of symbolic order, a kind of violence."

Just like his name.

Nietzsche? John Holmes, break out of this secular framework.

"So this is your reason for hitting your classmates?!"

When the father and son with strange behavior walked to the school gate, a voice broke their respective fantasies.

Looking in the direction of the voice, I saw a girl with brown curly hair, freckles on her face and chocolate-colored eyes. She was standing at the door holding a few books and frowning.

He, Nietzsche, met the most difficult person in his life.

Hermione Granger!!

Volume 1: Chapter 2: Superman Nietzsche, childhood sweethearts

"Why the hell hasn't she left school yet?"

This was Nietzsche's first thought when he saw Hermione.

"Hmm... she looks like a girl from a middle-class family. She has a lot of conflicts with Nietzsche."

This was Sherlock's first thought as he took in Hermione.

In fact, as a long-time consulting detective in the England police force and a friend of Inspector Lestrade, he had already seen the truth through the scrapes and bruises on the knuckles of Nietzsche's hands.

I'm just used to it and I'm too lazy to expose it in front of Watson.

It's normal for a child living in the Holmes family to have some brains influenced by the Holmes family, isn't it?

"Is this your classmate? Friend?" Sherlock habitually gave him a scrutinizing look. "Let me guess, this is the 'only friend in school' that John Watson mentioned?"

Hermione felt a little embarrassed by his stare.

Is this Nietzsche's father?

Yes! Absolutely! When they first meet, they will look at each other directly. They are just like each other.

"No!"

"Friends? No!"

Eleven-year-old Nietzsche and twelve-year-old Hermione denied it almost at the same time.

"I'm his father. May I ask who did he beat up at school today?" Sherlock suddenly smiled and put his hand on the boy's head. "I'm sorry, he transferred here last time because of this kind of thing."

Nietzsche looked as if he had seen a ghost.

When I looked up, I could see the smile on my adoptive father’s face that was worthy of an Oscar for Best Actor.

Retribution has come! Sherlock will never suffer any loss!!

Hermione's eyes widened after hearing this, and she looked at Nietzsche in disbelief: "Didn't you say that you were acting bravely and the police arranged for you to transfer because they were worried that you would be retaliated against?"

"Indeed..."

"fraud!"