Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

"Muggle weapons..."

Snape admitted to feeling a lingering fear; if he had been more assertive at Holmes's house, the hole in his head might have been bigger than the one on the troll's body.

He ignored Quirrell's bewildered expression and strode back, clutching the hollow-point bullet.

"Nietzsche, I think you need to explain this to yourself!"

Chapter Forty: The Principal's Office

The troll's skin is indeed very tough, but that's only true for wizards.

The .357 hollow-point bullet increased the initial velocity, tearing apart the internal tissues after penetrating the troll's eye. This was the wound that caused the troll's death, not the small gash that was barely opened on its face.

Although this creature's skin is as hard as granite, the skin on its face must be the thinnest.

Snape then stopped the two people who were being protected by Professor McGonagall.

"You actually...you actually brought that kind of thing into the school?!"

He couldn't believe that if Nietzsche hadn't kept his composure and hadn't been careful with his strength during the duel, Draco and Marcus would have been crippled, if not killed.

On the other hand, Snape's understanding of Muggle weapons was refreshed once again.

“What’s wrong with you?” McGonagall frowned impatiently. “They encountered a troll on their way down, killed it, that’s all… Maybe they used a spell to exploit the troll’s weakness.”

She was extremely dissatisfied with Snape's sudden outburst.

The two children nearly lost their lives. Even if they killed the troll using some not-so-good spells, they should have been allowed to rest for a while before being interrogated like criminals.

But Snape bypassed her and went straight to Nietzsche, ignoring the latter's bewilderment and innocence.

"I've seen better actors than you..."

“Why not strengthen the defenses?” Dumbledore suddenly interrupted him, and put his arm around Nietzsche and Hermione’s shoulders. “Severus, if you have any questions, we’ll be waiting for you in the office.”

"Quirinas, you should get some rest early tonight too."

Snape knew he had said too much, so he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

After Dumbledore left with the professor, Harry and Ron appeared on the other side. They originally wanted to find Hermione and Nietzsche, but in the end, they watched the troll fall down.

"Looks like they're alright, let's go back..." Ron pouted and said softly.

He glanced at the troll's little head again, gagged a few times, and felt a pounding in his chest—hoping Hermione would forgive him for what he had said before and that he would make up his mind to go up to her and apologize when he saw her.

However, Harry had absolutely no intention of going back.

"Snape didn't come here with Dumbledore immediately; he was planning to go to the fourth floor."

why?

Harry suddenly remembered that night—when Hermione, who had followed Filch to avoid them and was worried they would get hurt, unlocked the door to the room where the treasure was hidden.

The entrance to the headmaster's office, like the Defense Against the Dark Arts office, is on the third floor.

Hermione kept her head down, clutching her sleeve. Perhaps Professor McGonagall behind her noticed her nervousness, so she ruffled the students' messy, curly hair and reassured them that everything would be alright.

Finally, Dumbledore stopped in front of a hideously ugly, drooping stone beast.

He looked at the stone statue and suddenly uttered a word related to dessert: "Lemon ice cream!"

This was clearly a password, because Nietzsche saw the gargoyle come to life, twist its stiff body, and nimbly leap to the side, while the wall behind it cracked open, revealing a spiraling staircase leading upwards.

After stepping onto the escalator, it automatically raised the group up. After a short while, Nietzsche and Hermione saw a gleaming oak door with a griffin-head knocker.

Behind the door is the principal's office.

The principal's office... but Nietzsche had clearly been to such places many times, and had no worries whatsoever.

"Don't worry, Miss Granger, sit down and rest for a while."

Dumbledore led the group through the Roman columns in the center of the office. As soon as he finished speaking, several soft chairs appeared in front of the desk in the center of the room, with lion claw-shaped legs for both the chairs and the desk.

Nietzsche, arriving at the new principal's office for the first time, looked around curiously.

It was a spacious circular room with a tall black cabinet on the left and the right wall covered with portraits of the principal from different periods. Above the door they entered through was a sycamore branch with a bright red bird perched on it.

The items were arranged in a disorderly order, yet Nietzsche could glean a wealth of information from a mere glance.

But this is not a good thing... because with so much information, it will take him much longer to sort out his thoughts.

"Considering your feelings, I have a recommendation."

Dumbledore placed his fingers on the table, and four cups that appeared automatically filled with a yellow liquid, topped with white foam, overflowing from the rims. Nietzsche sniffed and smelled a milky aroma.

"Butterbeer...but this is a one-time thing; they don't have those at school."

Perhaps Nietzsche was too thirsty, for he didn't stand on ceremony and quickly took a sip. As soon as the empty cup was placed on the table, it was immediately refilled.

Dumbledore was equally observant; he immediately noticed that Nietzsche was holding the cup with both hands, and that it was trembling slightly, indicating that the boy's inner world was not as calm as he appeared.

Something seemed to have fallen to the ground in his heart.

"I...we can't drink beer, we're still minors..."

Hermione listened to the gurgling sound she was deliberately making, swung her right leg, and bumped it against Nietzsche's leg under the table.

“No alcohol taste.” Nietzsche turned his head, his face covered in foam like a white beard, looking quite comical. “It’s sweet, a drink… but a bit cloying, though overall it’s very good.”

Hearing this, Hermione cautiously took a sip.

The aroma and sweetness of the butter exploded on her taste buds, and as the liquid slid down her esophagus into her stomach, she could feel a warmth immediately fill her entire body.

The atmosphere was a little awkward... The principal, the vice-principal, and two students sat around a table, quietly drinking butterbeer, with only the sound of drowsiness coming from the principal's portrait and the melodious chirping of birds.

Hermione dared not speak, and Nietzsche was also temporarily confused about the headmaster's purpose.

How does it feel to take the life of an intelligent being with your own hands?

It was as casual as asking them if they had eaten dinner.

When asked by the headmaster, Hermione answered honestly, "Not so good, we...we can even hear it crying."

After the initial excitement of surviving the ordeal subsided, only bewilderment and regret remained. In particular, the agonizing cries of pain lingered in their ears, as if... she had killed someone.

“I understand.” Headmaster Dumbledore nodded slightly and looked at Nietzsche.

He finally understood; it turned out to be just a psychological therapy session for the two of them.

“Principal, we are human beings with complex and rich emotions and thoughts. In fact, I have never even killed a chicken with my own hands... Watching others kill people is different from killing people with your own hands.”

The thought of that crying made him uneasy.

Perhaps the troll was innocent, perhaps it didn't know what had happened, perhaps... perhaps it thought of its mother before it died?

Once his thoughts began to wander, Nietzsche could not contain them. He could only hide his hands under the table, wring his trousers hard, and rub them back and forth from time to time, even when his palms were rubbed until they were hot and sore, he could not stop.

But this time, Hermione, who was looking down, noticed his change.

His left hand, which had nowhere to go, was grasped.

“You just had no choice.” Dumbledore cleared his throat, making his voice sound more amiable. “I’m just worried that it will leave a lasting negative impression on you, so… don’t be too harsh on me.”

Life is wonderful.

Even a goldfish as small as a finger, when placed in a lifeless stone pond, can bring the entire space to life; it's a feeling that's hard to describe.

At least, Dumbledore didn't detect any arrogance in either of them.

"How did that troll escape from the Forbidden Forest?" Professor McGonagall looked at the headmaster, her expression gradually becoming serious.

“I don’t know, maybe they’re being controlled…” Dumbledore stroked his gray beard and continued, “The trolls in the Forbidden Forest are the security guards of Hogwarts; they’re usually just there to prevent intrusion.”

It was discovered very early on that trolls possessed their own language and could understand simple human language.

Therefore, with a little training, one can see giant guards; their minds are perfectly suited to this role, because they only need to know what they are protecting to stand firmly there.

So in a way, Nietzsche was right—it was indeed innocent.

“But trolls are single-minded, so if we have to control them, it must be…” McGonagall glanced at the students beside her, seemingly reluctant to say it, so she hesitated for a moment, “…the Imperius Curse.”

Hermione fell backward, unable to process everything that had happened that night in an instant.

That's one of the three most unforgivable curses in the magical world, an extremely evil spell! It can twist a person's mind, making them controllable like a walking corpse.

But...

“Confuse Charm.” Nietzsche squinted, slowly pulling himself out of his thoughts thanks to Hermione’s comfort. “Trolls are simple-minded; all we need to do is confuse them about the purpose of their mission.”

"Don't you understand? No matter what you do, you would never use a dark magic like the Imperius Curse!"

Nietzsche has a point, but the question is, was the reason they let the troll in just to pull off a very dangerous prank on Halloween?

This is obviously impossible.

Just then, Snape stormed in, limping as he nodded to Dumbledore, then immediately pulled the bullet fragment from his pocket and threw it on the table, leaning against it as he stood opposite Nietzsche.

"Why don't you tell them how a student managed to mess up a troll's brain?"

The people who came to demand an explanation have arrived.

“It’s…two people, Headmaster Snape.” Nietzsche took a sip of his butterbeer, pretending not to have seen anything. “Without Hermione creating opportunities for me, I couldn’t have done anything on my own.”

"Take it out!!"

Snape slammed his fist on the table.

Nietzsche could no longer hide it, so, to the suspicion of McGonagall and Dumbledore, he pulled a Colt Python revolver from his waist, ejected the spinning magazine, and now only had three rounds left.

Even a giant monster can die if you hit it accurately.

“The school doesn’t allow such dangerous weapons. I’ll tell your parents…” He smiled confidently, as if he had Nietzsche’s vital spot.

“In fact…it was my father who asked me to bring it.” Nietzsche blinked, looking at him defiantly. “Or let me tell you, just say that the next time their son encounters a troll, he can only stand there and wait to die.”

School + Nearly a murder = Complaint

Yes, Snape almost forgot how strange Nietzsche's two foster fathers and one foster mother were, so strange that they were like wizards living among Muggles who had forgotten how to use magic.

Dumbledore stared at the gun, his eye twitching. He knew what Muggle weapons were, of course, but he hadn't expected that such a small thing would be enough to blow a troll's head off.

"We are all very sorry for this accident, and we can assure you... that it will not happen again. Therefore, Mr. Holmes' Muggle weapon will be temporarily kept and returned to you after the holiday."