Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"So why don't you just get out of here!" Hermione clicked her tongue, unsure whether he was pretending to be stupid or had just woken up. "Do you expect me to stand in the hallway changing clothes?"

"I had my eyes closed just now."

Hermione's cheeks flushed slightly, then she grabbed his wrist with a stern face and pushed him out the door.

Troublesome~

Nietzsche, standing outside the door, rolled his eyes, calmly took off his overcoat, and put his black school uniform robe over his gray shirt.

In fact, he dreamed of another universe.

To be precise, he was like a god, standing in the middle of the crowd watching everything that happened around him, and that world was like a replica of popular DC comics.

Those skyscrapers and technologies that are ahead of their time are just too...real.

"Did you have a nightmare?" When the cubicle opened again, Hermione was already wearing her pointed hat and carrying Mercury's cage.

"Not really, maybe it's just that your voice is too scary."

On this train, Hermione only knew Nietzsche, and of course, Harry was only half a person, so she couldn't help feeling a little nervous as she looked out the window at the station getting closer and closer.

She glanced at Nietzsche, who was deep in thought, and sighed inwardly.

Honestly, sometimes Hermione really doesn't understand Nietzsche. If you say he's willful, he's very logical in his actions; but if you say he's rational, sometimes he seems to act impulsively.

When Nietzsche was immersed in his thoughts, he created a sense of distance that was as distant as when a reader is looking at an illustration in a novel.

What did you dream about?

"The future..." he uttered a riddle.

"First-year students!!" A deep shout came from the platform, interrupting the two. "First-year students, follow me!"

It was Hagrid, the giant I'd seen at the Morkin's Robe shop. He stood in the cold wind, carrying a lantern, the damp mist and cold wind barely making the flame flicker.

It was as if that fire would never go out.

After getting off the train, Nietzsche dragged his luggage and followed the crowd along a bumpy stone path. The path was dark on both sides, with only the occasional croaking of frogs.

"The wizarding world is probably controlled by a few wizards who believe in blood ties, but a small number of them fell due to the magical wars in Britain in the 20th century... As for the hostile relationship, you can refer to Weasley and Malfoy."

"What you dreamed about doesn't matter, Hermione, what matters is the revelation..."

The two of them kept their heads down and followed at the back of the surging crowd.

"Is it possible that you've just been reading too many superhero comics?"

Hermione's gaze was like that of a mother looking at her son lost in adolescent fantasies; that tolerant, helpless look sent a chill down Nietzsche's spine.

"You're aware of the recent spate of murders in Britain, aren't you?"

"Hmm~"

“The murderer is a wizard.” He pressed his hand, signaling Hermione to lower her voice. “From Ron Weasley’s words, it is very clear that Malfoy and his ilk are wizards who started out as dark wizards.”

"That doesn't make sense... I mean, it could be any dark wizard!"

However, Nietzsche knew far more details than Hermione.

He began to sort out his thoughts: "It wasn't a religious murder; someone was sabotaging the relationship between wizards and the British government."

Nietzsche pulled a magic card that came with the Chocolate Frog from his pocket. The card depicted an old man with a white beard, and Harry had given it to him because the latter already had one.

The silver-haired old man with a crooked nose, wiping his crescent-shaped glasses, is none other than Albus Dumbledore.

Nietzsche flipped the card over and handed it to Hermione.

"The current headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard... defeated Grindelwald in 1945..." Hermione could barely make out the words by the moonlight. "He was indeed the most Muggle-friendly wizard."

"The Mysterio died in 1981, after which the Malfoy faction backed down."

"You mean the killer might be connected to Malfoy?!"

Hermione's logical thinking wasn't bad either, so she quickly realized what was going on.

“Not entirely correct.” Nietzsche hesitated for a moment, then continued, “I believe it’s related to the entire faction that supported the mysterious man back then…”

The mysterious figure falls from power, and wizards who believe in bloodline superiority disappear into the background. At the same time, pro-Muggle wizards rise to power.

Even with this inference, there are still many doubts.

The problem is that, as we can tell from Ron and Neville's conversation, the wizards have absolutely no clue about what's going on in the outside world, so how could they possibly know where the high-ranking members of the Church of England live?

Not even ordinary people, let alone wizards, could possibly know this.

“But the mysterious people are all dead. They have no reason to risk being discovered to murder a few ordinary people.”

“Yes…” Nietzsche had a headache.

But in any case, he sent the information he already had to Mycroft and Sherlock that evening.

"So, that's what's causing your anxiety?"

"No...yes, that's about right."

Hermione pursed her lips and watched Nietzsche standing on tiptoe behind the stopped crowd. She knew that the other person's behavior on the bus was not entirely due to this incident; the word "fear" could not describe it.

Compared to the usual Nietzsche, he seemed to have been stripped of all positive emotions, leaving only despair behind.

That trembling, huddled-in-a-corner look...

“No more than four people on each boat!” Hagrid’s loud voice boomed, drowning out everyone else. “We’re now below Hogwarts.”

Hermione looked up; the sky was now completely dark.

On the opposite shore of a wide lake, a castle stands on the edge of a steep cliff, its neatly arranged windows all emitting an orange glow.

This was good news for her: Hogwarts was even closer to a fairy tale than she had imagined on the train.

Hermione and Nietzsche, who were the last to board the ship, were lucky enough to squeeze into a wooden boat by themselves. When they had traveled a certain distance, Hermione could feel the ivy canopy above her head stroking her.

Finally, they arrived at the dock below the castle.

"Don't think about those things for now, cheer up." Hermione looked at Professor McGonagall, dressed in a bright green wizard's robe, standing in front of the oak door, a little nervous. "Why don't you think about the Sorting House later?"

Well, as the one who started the fight on the train, and arguably the most serious one, she suddenly felt a little regretful.

The teacher seemed to exert a natural, oppressive influence on Hermione.

Professor McGonagall gave her a serious look around, but didn't linger on her for long, which relieved Hermione.

"You're going to tear my school uniform, Train King."

"Even if you don't speak, I won't treat you as mute, Nietzsche!"

“Hmph... I think Neville is right, you really do belong in Ravenclaw.” Nietzsche smoothed out the wrinkles in her robes. “They say this house is full of eccentric people.”

But who is Hermione?

She and Nietzsche argued for a full two years.

“Are you talking about yourself?” Hermione scoffed as she walked up the luxurious marble staircase. “Oh, no, perhaps you’d be better suited to a place like Slytherin.”

There is no reason for this.

"Tsk tsk tsk... Nietzsche, why did you deliberately not fight back on the train? Admit it, you bastard who will stop at nothing to achieve your goals!"

"But I didn't hurt Neville, and I didn't hurt you either."

"I think this is all thanks to me, so there's no need for a 'thank you'."

Professor McGonagall carefully recounted the four houses of Hogwarts before the ceremony, and only after confirming that everyone was ready did she lead them out of the empty room next to the hall.

Passing through the hall, behind a door lies the auditorium.

The space was filled with four long tables, half of which were occupied by senior students, while the other half was reserved for freshmen.

The candles on the table seemed to float in mid-air, and the tableware on the table consisted entirely of gleaming gold plates and crystal-clear goblets.

Hermione thought she had stumbled into some old aristocratic banquet.

There were also some white ghosts floating above the four dining tables, and the arched ceiling at the very top was exactly like the starry sky outside, as if all the students were eating under the stars.

"That's Headmaster Dumbledore."

Nietzsche saw an elderly man with silver hair standing in the middle of the teachers' seats at the very front.

"Quiet!" Professor McGonagall moved a wooden chair in front of the new students and placed a dusty hat on it. "Whoever I call, put it on your head!"

Then the dirty hat split open and began reciting lyrics in a strange tone.

"Perhaps you belong to Gryffindor, where courage resides in the heart... Perhaps you belong to Ravenclaw, where wise and learned individuals always find their kindred spirits..."

That's right, it doesn't sound like singing at all, it sounds like chanting.

Nietzsche wished he could learn to shut his ears within two months so he wouldn't have to suffer.

"Hannah Abbott!!"

The first one to go up was the silver-haired girl who had provided Neville Longbottom with the toad's whereabouts. Her head merely brushed against the hat, and the toad screamed and revealed its owner.

"Hufflepuff!"

"Terry Booth." "Ravenclaw"

"Hermione Granger!"

The curly-haired girl standing next to Nietzsche nervously walked up to him, taking three steps before turning back to look at Nietzsche.

For her, it was like being assigned to a different class. If her best friend wasn't in the same class as her, would their relationship fade away?

When a person is nervous, countless thoughts will arise.

"Hmm...this is difficult." The Sorting Hat's voice echoed in Hermione's mind. Its voice didn't sound like that of an old man weathered by time. "Lofty ideals, courage, and also intelligence..."

"Will I offend all three founders at once? Oh well, they're all gone anyway."

"You can read minds?" Hermione's hands gripped the edge of the wooden chair.

"Of course not, I just... let me put it this way, it's just intuition. The human mind is too complicated, how can it be understood? I'm just a novice painter, I can barely classify each color."

The Sorting Hat was unaware of the passage of time and even curiously inquired about Hermione's attitude.

So where do you want to go?

"I went to the same academy as Nietzsche!"

“Which one… ah, he’s behind you, dear,” the Sorting Hat muttered. “While Slytherin is a good fit for an ambitious little wizard like you, I wouldn’t recommend it. Slytherin these days is too focused on bloodlines.”