Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“I hope you haven’t wasted Snape and Quirrell’s teachings,” Nietzsche said.

Harry followed him almost simultaneously, taking a step forward without any hesitation or fear.

“Potter, the boy who survived,” Voldemort said arrogantly, narrowing his repulsive, snake-like eyes. “I’ve read the prophecy about you, boy. It does have a touch of the legendary, but don’t worry, I won’t kill you.”

“Whether you kill me or not, I’m going to kill you,” Harry said sarcastically. “Your delirious mind obviously doesn’t realize that.”

"I hope you can stay smug," Voldemort said, his lips twitching downwards.

"Getting angry? It seems the Dark Lord, who doesn't even allow people to mention his name, doesn't like people commenting on his intelligence?" Harry raised his left arm. "Swordsmanship!"

An invisible blade tore Voldemort's robes apart, but unfortunately it was blocked by the wriggling Nagini.

Suddenly, several black dragons from the Hebrides Islands charged out of control from behind, forcing Voldemort to deal with the two dragons first.

"Stop them! Fools, there are only two of them!" he commanded his cowardly followers. "Avada Kedavra!"

The black torrent, under command, began to rush towards Nietzsche and Harry. The Gryffindor sword slashed through the enemy's throat, but the foul-smelling, dark red blood did not linger on the blade. Each swing sprayed blood rain into the air.

Voldemort's Killing Curse was so powerful that it instantly killed an adult Hebrides black dragon.

But before he could even rejoice, he saw another person who enraged him—Marvolo Sisyphus, who was essentially one of Voldemort's soul fragments.

Mavolo stood atop the slain fire dragon's head, viewing it as a springboard propelling him across the grass by inertia.

"Avada Kedavra!!" he grinned madly, unleashing the same deadly and powerful Killing Curse at Voldemort.

"Fool...you fool!" Voldemort dared not retaliate, and could only use his followers to block the sudden attack, just like Nietzsche. He kept cursing, "We are all Voldemort! Killing me is killing yourself!!"

It's normal to fight Sherlock Holmes and Potter, but how come my own soul comes along with them while I'm fighting?

If Hogwarts were a giant arena, Voldemort could accept taking on two opponents, but halfway through the fight, his own hands suddenly started fighting each other, even slapping himself in the face... That's not fair!

Voldemort stared at Marvolo, who was going mad under the green light, and cursed under his breath: Madman.

Chapter 418 The Serpent Slayer

For Voldemort, if Nietzsche was the only one at the beginning, it could be considered an "evenly matched" contest. After Harry joined, it could barely be called a "back and forth" contest. But if Marvolo were added, it would really be a "headache".

Voldemort had to be wary of the Killing Curse while also trying to avoid being grazed by Harry's Gryffindor sword.

The sinister crimson eyes scanned back and forth in three different directions. At first, it was able to fight back in an orderly manner, but it soon began to reveal its weaknesses under this triangular offensive.

The four of them fought fiercely in the crowd, abandoning all pretense of honor and thinking only of killing each other.

Harry was exhausted. His clothes were soaked, not with sweat, but with the blood of Voldemort's henchmen, mixed with the translucent slime and fine, stiff spider hairs of the giant spider.

'Why...' Voldemort was in no better shape; he had noticed the Elder Wand loosening more than once in his mind.

But the Killing Curse didn't give him time to think, and he angrily dodged to the side once again.

Seizing the opportunity, Nietzsche suddenly used Apparition to teleport behind him. The Dark Lord had no time to dodge. Although Nagini used his smooth body under his robes to avoid the scorching lightsaber, it still grazed his left side.

From behind, Voldemort's body looked like a cookie that had been gnawed by a rat.

"Ah!!" He let out a sharp cry, his body turning into a thick cloud of black mist, and he flashed away three or four meters away.

“Riddle…” Voldemort said, clutching his charred wound, his eyes filled with malice, “Don’t think I wouldn’t dare kill you. You’re nothing but an imposter, a tool for me to conquer death.”

"Don't call that name!" Marvolo angrily fired a killing spell into the distance.

Like his opponent, he was a wizard who frequently used the Unforgivable Curse, and the mere Killing Curse was a piece of cake for him.

“My father is a Muggle, and my mother is a witch—that’s an unchangeable fact!” Marvolo roared at the real Dark Lord. “And you are a coward, a spineless bastard who has abandoned himself!”

“We are one,” Voldemort hissed coldly. “I’m keeping you alive only for my own sake.”

It was a cruel fact, but he didn't think Mahoro would choose the greater good.

Although the two had completely different names, their souls were one. To Voldemort, this meant that Marvolo was ultimately a coward who clung to life, and therefore, this was an opportunity that could be exploited.

“Face reality, they will kill you eventually,” Voldemort enticed. “Otherwise, they will never be able to kill me.”

It seemed like an unsolvable problem, so much so that Marvolo was momentarily stunned. Harry Potter, who had witnessed all the changes, picked up the Sword of Gryffindor again and rashly charged forward.

Voldemort was delighted, as if he had seen the results.

"The Sharpshooter is Unseen!" Potter shouted.

But without a helper, how could he make Voldemort waver even a step? The Dark Lord easily blocked the Dark Lord's attack and sent him flying three meters away. Before he even landed, he followed up with the deadly Killing Curse.

"Avada Kedavra—" "Abolish your weapon!" "Avada Kedavra!"

The green light crushed the red beam, but another green light, also representing death, shot out from above Potter's head as Marvolo's Killing Curse collided with Voldemort's Killing Curse.

Hatred, disgust, disdain, and irritability collided with each other.

Voldemort did not give up, because he had already obtained the Elder Wand and had Peter Pettigrew successfully leave England with the Resurrection Stone. Therefore, he believed that Potter would not be resurrected as predicted, and thus began to fight Marvolo.

And that is indeed the case; Harry's body contains only his own purest soul...

Voldemort gradually realized something was wrong. He found that he had lost control of the Elder Wand, and his magic was being drained out of his body like a gushing vessel. Then, as if reaching a critical point, the tip of the Elder Wand exploded.

Nietzsche stood in front of Harry, using his sturdy armor and runes to shield him from the swirling dust and flying Killing Curses.

The magnificent green flames flew in all directions, and some students flying overhead were also affected, falling heavily to the ground.

Immediately afterwards, Marvolo, who was in the center, flew backward and fell to the ground, his body showing no signs of life; while Voldemort Nagini was also separated by this enormous force, and the snake that served as a Horcrux was thrown aside.

"No...no!!" Voldemort roared for his own soul.

But soon he and Nietzsche noticed Nagini, who was left writhing to the side; he had lost one soul and could not afford to lose another.

"Now!" Nietzsche's magic had gradually gained the upper hand, and he immediately used a barrier spell to hold off his opponent.

Harry seized this last chance. His head was spinning, and only one image was in his mind—Nagini. He couldn't even turn around to see if Marvolo was really dead.

The sword, forged by ancient fairies, began to heat up, seemingly indicating that its purpose was to slay snakes.

The first time was when Harry used it to pierce the head of the Basilisk in the Chamber of Secrets, and the second time was... Harry Potter, under Nietzsche's cover, was the first to rush in front of Nagini, the sword held upright, its weight drawing a crescent moon in the air.

"Avada Kedavra! Avada! Avada---"

However, no matter how Voldemort used the Elder Wand, he could only make the core of the wand emit a little black smoke.

Okay, since magic doesn't work, let's move forward. But under Nietzsche's metamorphosis, the original land turned into a whirlpool like quicksand, making each step he took even more difficult than the last.

Nagini returned to Voldemort's side, but only his head remained.

“Impossible… my soul…” He angrily pointed his wand at Nietzsche in front of him.

But what good is that? Voldemort is already at his wit's end.

"Give up, Tom." Dumbledore's calm voice echoed through the grass of Hogwarts Castle. "You have already lost. From the moment you became so eager to reclaim your dignity from me, you had already lost."

"No...kill them! I want you to kill them!"

The scene was completely silent; no one in the party would respond to Voldemort's orders.

It wasn't that they had surrendered, because Voldemort could see that there were no Death Eater followers around him if he simply shifted his gaze slightly away from Nagini's snake head.

In the explosion caused by the Elder Wand, all the followers except for a few protected by Nietzsche died in the green light, and the giants also fell into pools of blood, with various stone weapons stuck in their chests or heads.

The surviving stormtroopers began clearing the battlefield, finishing off the minions that weren't quite dead yet.

"This can't be... The prophecy is right? Wrong? Haha... I won't lose. Since Potter won't die in the prophecy, then I won't die either! Hahaha!" Voldemort let out a mad, shrill laugh.

The principal led the four deans across the lawn and stood behind Nietzsche, becoming his strongest supporter.

Dumbledore tossed a crown-shaped object to the ground and said gently, “This is the Horcrux you hid in the school—Ravenclaw’s tiara. If I didn’t have a resemblance to you, I probably would never have guessed it.”

"I have nothing that is the same as you!" Voldemort hunched over, like a wolf ready to tear the other to shreds at any moment.

“Loneliness.” Dumbledore ignored him and continued, “I once had a place where only I could lay down my burdens, undisturbed, like the Room of Requirement… I think you’ve met Ariana.”

Voldemort's face began to twitch, and his hand holding the Elder Wand began to twitch.

When he saw Dumbledore's healthy appearance and complexion, he realized that he had been set up in a trap—from the moment Nietzsche had Peter Pettigrew deliver false information, he had already fallen into the trap.

That's how it is when you're dealing with Sherlock Holmes or Moriarty; you never know if what you see or hear is true.

"The Elder Wand is fake..." Voldemort gritted his teeth, glaring hatefully at Dumbledore and the indifferent Snape.

"On the contrary, the Elder Wand is real, but the fact that you defeated me is false." Dumbledore looked at the other man with an extremely pitying gaze. "Tom, when will you understand that what matters in prophecy is people, not things?"

Voldemort pulled out his wand with his other hand, his expression shifting between pain and bewildered surprise.

He never possessed the Elder Wand, nor did he steal the power from its previous owner, because Grindelwald never defeated Dumbledore, and naturally Voldemort, who defeated Grindelwald, could not control the wand.

“You are not its master; you will only be devoured,” Dumbledore said calmly.

“I defeated you! I understand...you wanted to take something from me again.” His voice trembled with malice. “I will not lose to you again, Dumbledore. Don’t think you can take anything from me! Ava…”

But the four deans couldn't contain themselves any longer, and four wands emerged from Nietzsche's shoulders.

"Divine Sharpness Without a Trace." "Shattered to pieces!" "Torn to pieces." "Transformed Torture."

A golden-red ray of morning light burst forth above the magical barrier covering Hogwarts Castle, reflecting Nietzsche's helmet in fiery red, azure, and golden hues. He seemed to hear Dumbledore's faint sigh.

Under the hopeful sunshine, the regret and anger that had accumulated over countless years turned to ashes and drifted away from everyone's hearts.

The sun rose over Hogwarts, and golden hope shone from the dome of the Great Hall on everyone who was laughing. They roared in victory, and the whole castle erupted in a deafening clamor.

People embraced and sang joyfully, expressing their sadness and happiness in front of the food hastily prepared by their pet elves.

Harry was lifted above Durmstrang and Beauxbatons' heads and passed around among them, because it was he who wielded the Sword of Gryffindor to cut off Nagini's snake head, and it was he, the savior, who defeated Voldemort.

But is this really the case?

Harry knew perfectly well what he meant to Gryffindor, so he didn't want to break the chanting from George and Fred. However, as he was tossed into the air, he thought to himself, 'Why did Nietzsche let me take the honor?'

Only Hermione knows the answer to this question—because of Harry's innate 'savior'.

This title is enough to overshadow Nietzsche's efforts without overly deifying Harry, and coupled with the prophecies circulating in the market, people will automatically rationalize the actions of the 'savior'.

Hermione quietly withdrew from the Great Hall. She was overjoyed, and even her exhaustion couldn't suppress it.

However, her joy was not because of the war she was certain to win, but because Nietzsche—that damned fellow—could finally have some peace and quiet.

Hermione breathed a sigh of relief and quietly closed the Great Hall door. Stepping on the broken glass on the ground, she walked to the headmaster's office.

“May I come in, Granger?” she asked politely.