Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“That’s it?” Karkaroff said proudly. “It’s no exaggeration to say that Krum could immediately assemble an excellent Quidditch team to hunt down that man. You underestimate me, Severus.”

"That's a flying spell he learned from Dementors. He's the only one in the entire wizarding world who knows... true flight. If you want your student to go and die, feel free to try," Snape said impatiently.

Nietzsche had some recollection of this kind of magic; he recalled that every time Voldemort appeared, it was accompanied by black mist descending from the sky.

“What about gravity magic? Maybe I can control it.” Quirrell raised his hand.

“No, it’s too dangerous.” Hermione rejected the proposal. “Even if we could do it, we couldn’t get you to Voldemort’s side immediately, let alone in the heart of the Dark Legion.”

She didn't make excuses, but instead considered the possibility that Voldemort would slip away immediately.

The question of Voldemort's flight caused everyone to fall silent, and they suddenly returned to their initial confusion.

"So... if we're worried about Voldemort escaping, we have to find a way to lure him into the castle?" Flitwick said in a shrill voice.

"Don't forget he's not alone," Karkaroff scoffed. "If I may be so bold, your old oak gate probably won't withstand a few more attacks from the giant, unless you can stop it—the divided situation is very disadvantageous for us."

Nietzsche heard fear in his words: Karkaroff was afraid to face Voldemort.

Just as the group was pondering this, Dumbledore seemed to suddenly wake up, and he slapped his forehead in realization.

“I almost forgot about Hogwarts’ protective magic,” the headmaster said. “If you’re worried about harassment from giants, werewolves, or other such creatures, we can use a protective charm to create a barrier to block any further support…”

Inspiration suddenly flashed through Nietzsche's mind, as swift as lightning piercing a rainy night; fortunately, this lightning was caught by a fire dragon.

"How large is the area?" he suddenly asked.

This question seemed illogical to the headmasters, but Dumbledore answered anyway: "With the blessing of ancient magic within Hogwarts, the range of the Peaceful Guardian Charm can only reach the boundaries of the school grounds."

It is enough to cover the entire Hogwarts, including the Black Lake and the Forbidden Forest.

It is known that the Peace Guardian Spell is an upgraded version of the Ironclad Spell.

Because the effect of the Ironclad Charm is to 'resist all attacks, including those from matter and magic'; and because the Peacekeeper Charm divides an entire area with a barrier, its scope covers the entire map area of ​​Hogwarts.

Therefore, it can be concluded that Hogwarts' protective magic can be used as a prison.

“Then we can combine Professor Flitwick’s suggestion!” Nietzsche said enthusiastically. “We can lure Voldemort and part of the Dark Army in first, and then take the opportunity to use the Peaceful Guardian Charm to cut off any further support, which will also prevent Voldemort from flying away.”

His unusual thought process stunned everyone, and all the principals and professors were pondering this proposal.

It's strange, because Hogwarts' large protective charm is designed to defend against attacks, so it would naturally prevent Voldemort from flying away; but it's not strange either, wouldn't a normal wizard prevent Voldemort from flying in?

Hermione noticed that one of her eyebrows was higher than the other, and she sensed something was wrong. Logically, the spell seemed completely opposite, but in terms of its effect, it matched the intended purpose. There was an inexplicable strangeness to it.

Got it. From now on, wizard prisons should use large-scale protective magic to prevent escapes... Hmm, that makes sense?

Those inside couldn't escape, and those outside couldn't break in.

“Right? Makes sense, right?” Nietzsche spread his hands and continued, “As long as Voldemort can’t fly out, that’s fine, unless he forcibly opens a gap.”

But this supposedly only solution for Voldemort was nothing but a pipe dream:

He would have to withstand attacks from Dumbledore, Mrs. Maxime, Nietzsche, Hermione, and others, and it would take several more minutes before he could possibly open a breach. In those few minutes, he could die five or six times over.

The most perfect protection is the most airtight prison.

“Then we must maintain our defenses.” Snape took a sip of mead, which meant he was somewhat relaxed.

“That’s no problem. All we need are a few professors providing magical output from different directions.” Dumbledore casually stroked his glass and said calmly, “Of the eight directions, only the north is the most dangerous.”

The Black Lake is to the northwest, the Quidditch pitch is to the northeast, and the Forbidden Forest is to the north. This means that someone needs to go to the rear to maintain magic in the most intense fighting, otherwise a breach will be torn open.

Even a gap just wide enough for one person to pass through would be a lifesaver for Voldemort.

“Kakarov.” Nietzsche suddenly stepped forward in place of Principal Durmstrang and said without hesitation, “Principal Karkarov has always wanted to leave a valuable name in history. He hopes to wash away the humiliation he suffered in the past.”

"I..." Karkaroff was stunned, dumbfounded, and numb.

“You don’t want the world to know that you were once a Death Eater, do you?” Nietzsche said with a smile.

Hermione leaned back, shouting in her mind: It's here! The 'harmless smile' that Holmes gives before he harms someone!

“Well… of course.” Karkaroff lowered his head humbly and replied in a weak voice, “It’s not about whether I’m a Death Eater or not, it’s mainly about setting an example for Durmstrang’s students.”

At this moment, he felt deep regret. Had he known Nietzsche was still alive, how could he have dared to indulge in such unrealistic fantasies?

"Don't worry, Nietzsche and Hermione's dragons will take you to Voldemort's rear, and the black dragons of the entire Hebrides and the centaurs of the Forbidden Forest will protect you," Dumbledore patted his old friend on the shoulder, comforting him.

"If you're really worried about me, then don't make me..."

"Then you'll go deal with Voldemort?" Before he could finish speaking, Dumbledore poured cold water on his head again.

Karkarov regained his courage.

Just kidding, he'd rather be protected by a bunch of magical creatures than deal with Voldemort, who uses the Unforgivable Curse as a common spell.

Chapter 411 Grindelwald's Brief Resurrection

(It was a family member's birthday, so I forced myself to drink alcohol, hence this separate update)

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In February, Hogwarts was free of snow, and everyone was working hard to prepare for the approaching dark clouds. However, Marvolo was in a prolonged slump.

The tension of choosing between two options, and the uncertainty about the future.

"If Voldemort is dead, then who am I?" Marvolo blinked, looking dazed. "I am also a fragment of a soul, and as long as I live, then Voldemort will never die... Does this mean my final fate?"

No one knew his true nature better than Marvolo Sisyphus. Although he changed his name and surname, he still belonged to Voldemort in his soul.

He paced anxiously back and forth in the Gryffindor common room, making Harry Potter's eyes blurry.

“What are you afraid of? At worst, we’ll just put up a tombstone for you.” Potter put his arms behind his head, yawned deeply in the warm fire, and then said jokingly, “Don’t forget you have a piece of my blood.”

Marvolo glanced at the scar on his forehead, feeling that he needed to reconsider certain steps; he had to be sure that Voldemort wouldn't emerge from his body.

In the school clinic on the other side, Nietzsche and Dumbledore sat on either side of Grindelwald.

In the undisturbed environment, the headmaster's eyes were fixed on the silver hand wrapped in cloth, the short, fat fingers adorned with the Resurrection Stone, a symbol of death. Nietzsche saw in those eyes an obsession that did not belong to the headmaster of Hogwarts.

When the other person's fingertip was only one centimeter away from the ring, he pulled his arm holding the silver hand back slightly.

“This is for him, not for you,” Nietzsche said, frowning.

"Excuse me... let me do it. Please allow me to complete the last step." Dumbledore rubbed his face with his calloused fingers, trying to stay alert.

The three Deathly Hallows in fairy tales: the Elder Wand, the Invisibility Cloak, and the Resurrection Stone.

Dumbledore first raised his Elder Wand, with its distinct joints, and under Nietzsche's wary gaze, manipulated the Resurrection Stone ring to slip onto Grindelwald's thin finger. Then he covered the blanket with the Invisibility Cloak.

After everything was done, the headmaster finally put his wand into his hand.

The act of personally putting a ring on someone's finger... This kind of action has been clearly explained in sociology. Nietzsche never imagined that the seemingly great Principal Dumbledore had this side to him.

"Some say the Deathly Hallows were created by Death, but I'm more inclined to believe they were made by powerful ancient wizards. No one knows their purpose, only that the holder can race against death."

Dumbledore's voice echoed through the school infirmary, its sound even more enchanting with the night breeze blowing in through the window, like listening to a traveler recounting a story that begins with the phrase "Once upon a time."

But Nietzsche kept his head down, all his attention focused on observing Grindelwald's expression.

Although the curse on the Resurrection Stone has been weakened considerably, no one knows what adverse reaction it will have with the poison on Grindelwald's body, and he also doesn't know what the 'master of death' really means.

Immortality?

Something's not right. If the Deathly Hallows truly grant immortality, then why did Voldemort go to the trouble of splitting his soul?

At that moment, Grindelwald's brow twitched, and in that brief instant, Dumbledore sprang up from his chair, bent down, and leaned close to the other's mouth.

"Ariana..." Grindelwald seemed to be hallucinating again.

The white gauze curtains were blown up, making it look as if someone was hiding inside. Nietzsche's fingers trembled impatiently, and his unease burst forth from his fingertips through the rapid, repeated tapping motion of his index finger and thumb.

However, this hallucination did not seem so tragic, because Grindelwald did not cry or make a scene, but instead held tightly to Dumbledore's collar with his left hand.

“Ariana, please forgive me.” He said, his eyes vacant, clutching the principal’s collar, as if he were seeing another person through one face, seeing the hypocrisy behind another world.

Dumbledore didn't know how to answer, and just kept saying, "I'm here, Gellert..."

But these soft calls had no effect. A tear slid from the corner of Grindelwald's eye onto the pillow. He oscillated between the hallucinations of the poison and the resurrection stone, reaching for the white curtains that fluttered overhead.

Nietzsche knew perfectly well that the other person's soul was already shattered.

"Say something," he urged the principal. "Respond to his calls, at least pull him out of his hallucinations, say something!"

“Ariana is dead, Gellert, and it’s not all your fault,” Dumbledore said with a sigh. “There are still people alive, and I need you—let go of that. I know very well who killed her.”

Grindelwald's pale, gaunt face contorted, and he clutched his forehead tightly with both hands, as if he could hear two voices at the same time.

“It was all of us… an argument, a reflected magic… I always thought it was my fault. If we had never met in the first place, perhaps Ariana wouldn’t have died, but it was still my fault.”

Dumbledore laid bare a long-forgotten story, while painfully forcing himself to confront reality, as he had been stubbornly escaping the truth of what happened back then.

Oh no! Nietzsche quickly retreated to the door of the school clinic. He didn't want to hear anything strange or creepy, something that would give him goosebumps. Although such things were common in England, it was better to avoid them.

As the night deepened and all was quiet, Grindelwald's skin began to cool slowly, and his breathing gradually calmed down.

Nietzsche leaned against the doorframe, bored, and waited for a long time before he heard Dumbledore's approaching footsteps.

“You’d better prepare for the worst,” Nietzsche said, chewing on a licorice stick and looking down into the dark corridor where the candles had been extinguished. “I’ve seen what Mofen looks like, so… even if he could be resurrected, it probably wouldn’t be what you think.”

The old man's hunched back looked desolate under the moonlight; how many people had been taken from him since he was young?

They were all relatives and friends.

Dumbledore turned his head, revealing an expression that was both crying and laughing in the moonlight of the corridor.

"Whether he chooses to live a life of ignominy or to die a heroic death, I want to hear his own choice," the principal said.

(Hey, why don't you guys stock up for a few days? After all, the Fox arc will probably be over in about five days...)

Chapter 412 The Horn of Attack

One night, Hagrid was patrolling the Forbidden Forest as usual, leading his hound, Tooth. He held the reins, and with his other hand, he used a red umbrella with a hidden wand to hold up a bright lantern.

This lantern was a gift from Dumbledore, and the eternal flame inside is a symbol of the Keeper of the Hunt.

But today, the lantern suddenly became very weak. The light it emitted seemed to be trapped, unable to spread to a place more than ten meters away from Hagrid, and the surrounding temperature also dropped.

"Tooth...it's alright, Tooth." Hagrid wrapped his mole fur coat tighter and pulled on the reins.

The hound seemed to have discovered something and barked impatiently toward the depths of the forbidden forest. Then he heard the sound of several large trees being knocked down.

"Bane, is that you?"