Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

"It was Inspector Lestrade who arranged for me to transfer to another school. Actually, it was not much different." Nietzsche suddenly returned to an unusually calm state. "I just beat up a fat bully."

Sherlock put his hands in his pockets and interjected, "Not one, but 'several'."

The boy stepped on him and walked straight inside.

But Hermione did not leave. Instead, she chased after him with the book in her arms. Nietzsche had nothing to say. He just listened in silence as she kept talking about "school rules" and "moral standards."

He stopped only when he reached the principal's office.

"What are you following here for?"

Hermione's mouth, which had been muttering non-stop, suddenly shut and her cheeks suddenly turned red.

The freckles that are standard on brown-skinned British girls were faintly visible under the red color. Nietzsche looked at this face without any makeup and sighed for a moment.

He stammered and couldn't utter a complete sentence for a long time.

"Go in, ma'am, crazy... I hope this time you won't be expelled before you graduate from elementary school."

"Think about it carefully!"

Holmes, smoking a pipe, glanced at the shadows on the wall at the end of the corridor of the principal's office, raised his eyebrows, and without even bothering to wipe the ashes off his face, pushed the door open and walked in.

In this private elementary school office, the walls are covered with medals and trophies.

The principal is a middle-aged man with Mediterranean features. Behind him are photos of some important figures, and in the corner are souvenir photos with donors.

The first thing that came to Nietzsche and Shylock’s mind was that this was a person who worshipped authority and valued reputation extremely.

"Nietzsche? John Holmes...then this must be his father. Please take a seat." When the principal saw Sherlock's dirty clothes hanging together with his own suit, his face twitched.

He didn't know that his every move was being observed by the very reserved Sherlock.

"Your son has excellent grades, but his personality is a little...personal? Just a few days ago, he beat up three people, one of whom had a broken nose, and the other two had broken ribs and dislocated knees."

"This morning I received letters from three parents reporting that based on the practices of my school, I should expel your son."

As soon as these words came out, Hermione's breathing began to get heavier.

Nietzsche could notice that she was holding a book, the cover of which had been bent at the edge by her grip.

"Headmaster! You said..." Hermione mustered up the courage and spoke in a mosquito-like voice.

"You said 'should be fired'."

Although Nietzsche was talking to the headmaster, he was actually reminding Hermione.

Could it be because he was about to graduate from elementary school and expelling him now would have an impact... Maybe he didn't want to offend Inspector Lestrade... He considered every possibility in his mind.

Sherlock didn't say a word the whole time.

He just pursed his lips, bit his unlit pipe, stared blankly with lifeless eyes, and replayed the murder case over and over in his mind.

The principal glanced at the two people who were daydreaming, and couldn't help but sigh in his heart:

Problem father and son.

"You said that you saw the three of them engaging in school violence, so you stepped forward to stop them, and everything was self-defense... Nietzsche, I'm sorry, but the victim didn't say he was bullied at the time."

The principal pushed his glasses up and looked through the documents on the desk.

Just a few days ago, this problem student with good grades tricked three people into a corner where there was no surveillance and beat them up.

The three people who fainted were found by the staff on duty after school and sent to the hospital. They didn't even know why Nietzsche had caused them to have mental illnesses.

"Yes, you should have been transferred to another school, but... this girl is willing to come forward and serve as a witness for you."

A thunderclap exploded in Nietzsche's mind.

He had planned everything, but he never expected that Hermione, who had been against him every day, would come forward to be his witness.

In fact, Nietzsche has his own set of rules of conduct in school, but sometimes, Hermione, who is also a book lover, always speaks up to stop him...you can't do this, you can't do that.

Nietzsche gave Hermione a nickname, "Ms. Conformist".

Hermione was naturally not to be outdone, and privately called him "Mr. Always Right".

"Hermione?" Nietzsche said in disbelief. "She?"

"Miss Granger said that she had also been teased and bullied by those three people. So after judgment, Mr. Holmes, your son will not be expelled... But! He has to undergo a psychological examination!"

Things were beyond Nietzsche's expectations. After he went out, he found Hermione immediately running towards the end of the corridor.

He saw a couple coming out from the corner, hugging Hermione, and Mr. Granger nodded in Nietzsche's direction and took off his hat as a sign of respect.

Sherlock clapped his hands.

"To celebrate the fact that you didn't get expelled, let's go out for dinner tonight... Isn't it surprising that your 'enemy' at school actually helped you?"

"It's not that surprising. After all, there's the precedent of Aunt Irene happening to you."

The two were walking towards the school gate when suddenly Nietzsche heard someone beside him couldn't hold back his laughter.

He said angrily: "Aunt Irene likes you, but what happens between her and me is another matter. You can regard this as a miracle of life! Life is not just about rational thinking!"

"I didn't say anything... Let's go to the Royal Restaurant tonight?"

"No problem, don't tell Watson!"

"If he doesn't see it."

.........

Hermione and her parents got in the car. She looked at the scenery flying past and felt happy.

"That kid, is he the friend who helped you get out from under those three bastards last semester?"

"I don't agree with his behavior. Hitting people is never good!" Hermione pouted and retorted righteously, "And I'm not helping him, it's just... just..."

Mr. Granger and his wife looked at each other in front of them, and immediately smiled silently.

My daughter hasn't been this confident in a long time.

Although she always liked to quarrel with the child and kept ridiculing Nietzsche when she got home, at least she was not alone in books every day.

Hermione is not much better than Nietzsche. In order to escape reality, she would rather lock herself in the world of books.

Mr. Granger took over her words and said softly, "Just think it's not worth it for him to do that?"

Hermione nodded and continued, "Although his methods were wrong, he at least helped others. However, the person he helped repaid me with hatred. If I don't help him, then what's the difference between me and those people?!"

"Nietzsche is always like this, like a drunk, never thinking whether his behavior is permitted by school rules."

Humph, it doesn't matter.

She finally caught the other person's weakness.

When she thought about Nietzsche starting to use some philosophical principles to frame herself in the future, she attacked with "I am your savior"!

Although it's a rogue method, it works.

Just as she was swinging her legs and lost in the imagination of riding on Nietzsche's head, Mrs. Granger pulled out a beautiful envelope from her bag, which also had 'Hogwarts' written on it.

The content inside, except for the recipient, is exactly the same as Nietzsche's.

"Hogwarts... School of Magic?!"

Some secrets emerged from deep within her heart, and Hermione suddenly became somewhat uneasy.

Volume 1: Chapter 3 An Unpleasant Meeting with the Old Bat

A month after Nietzsche's dropout, the weather in London finally returned to normal.

Even 221 Baker Street became unusually lively.

First, the Duke of Blackwood, who was caught by Sherlock and executed, actually crawled out of the grave, and then there was a series of clueless crimes.

The Prime Minister became anxious and began to appease the masses and ordered them to find the person at all costs.

"How is this possible? There are no chemicals... no struggle..." Sherlock sat on the sofa, constantly looking up information in his own mind space, "This is against the rules!"

This is a criminal miracle...a miracle?

His thoughts suddenly flashed back to Irene Adeline in the Bohemian Scandal and how she had managed to escape the encirclement, not to mention that she had held Nietzsche hostage at the time.

Knock out all the police and guards, and leave with the photos in a dignified manner.

Obviously it's not something a woman can do.

At this time Nietzsche came out of the room yawning.

Holy crap, is it still night?

No, of course not, it's just that Holmes drew all the curtains to create the feeling of an interrogation room, and Nietzsche walked past the old man from the church lying on the table and walked towards the bay window.

“No, don’t open it yet…Ah!!”

The glaring sunlight made Holmes begin to lose consciousness and he slid off the sofa.

He fell on the carpet and rolled around.

"It's summer vacation now, you should go out for a walk, and... I don't want to dine at the same table with the new 'guest' tonight."

"How long has it been, Nietzsche, let your dad take some time off...ah!"

"One month." Nietzsche checked his watch and reminded, "I'm going to catch some amphibians for your experiment, so...see you in the evening."

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

Poor Nietzsche, he was played around by Hermione.

While the two were still chatting, the door opened and a middle-aged man wearing a black robe, who looked like a member of a cult organization, walked in silently, holding a small wooden stick in his hand.

Her jet-black hair looked greasy and even reflected the sunlight coming through the window.

"If you're looking for Holmes, he's not concerned with other cases right now."

Nietzsche looked at the man in front of him warily. You know, 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 in the doorway.

"I'm here to see you, Nietzsche John Holmes!" He dragged out a long, weak voice, his eyes dull, "You can call me Professor Snape, and don't lose the letters on purpose anymore."

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

Nietzsche looked at the letter that was thrown away as a prank, his pupils dilated, and then he dodged to the side.

Shouting: "Stalker!!"

Before Snape could figure out the situation, he saw Sherlock on the sofa instantly pull out a metal stick and point it at him. Looking through the dark hole, he felt a sense of danger.

After 0.5 seconds of thinking time, the metal stick made a loud "bang" sound.

The doorframe beside Snape spattered with sawdust.

"Raise your hands over your head!"

"Is there something wrong with you?!"

Nietzsche suddenly saw Snape's hand holding the stick and turned to Sherlock. He hurriedly squatted down, used a wooden stake as a cover, and made a claw with his right hand, aiming at Snape's right hand.

Well, he does have a few little secrets.

It is because of these "little secrets" that he can often defeat students who are taller and stronger than himself.

Ni called it "The Force"!

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

This was the last thing he expected.

"who are you."

But Snape just gritted his teeth, looked at the father and son with a venomous eye, and said word by word: "I am the Potions Professor of Hogwarts, you bunch of Muggles."

When he saw the corpse on the dining table, he immediately felt that this family was no ordinary one.

But Sherlock showed no fear and looked back.

"Okay, this one... is from the Professor, who are you working for."

"I work for myself! Enough is enough!!"

He muttered something, and a gust of wind blew up from his body, pushing Sherlock and Nietzsche away. Then he pointed with his right hand, and a red light flashed across the room.

Sherlock felt the Colt revolver in his hand flying out uncontrollably.