Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

“You…” Sherlock looked at Hermione and mumbled like a drunkard, “You didn’t go in with her…?”

"She was a shy child, waiting for me outside the bakery... Holmes, you two come with me. Why can't you trust me like Nietzsche did?"

It happened so suddenly.

Hermione stared at the half-eaten honey bread on her plate, then glanced at the caramel cookies Nietzsche was holding. Before she fainted, she really wanted to grab this woman by the collar and demand an explanation:

What kind of mutual trust do you, Eileen Adler, and Nietzsche have?

That's right. Nine out of ten of the things that Eileen brought over were drugged, and the remaining one was in a Schrödinger's cat state of 'being unconscious' or 'not being unconscious' due to prolonged vigilance and suspicion.

"Come with me," Eileen said, her voice tinged with concern.

"Don't even think about it, just grab her!"

But Nietzsche did nothing before Sherlock closed his eyes; he simply sat quietly in his chair.

This woman had everyone wrapped around her little finger. She didn't believe the Ministry of Magic's warning letter at all; it was clearly an act. After struggling to lift Sherlock back onto the sofa, she walked over with elegant steps.

Eileen reached out and pressed down on Nietzsche's sleeve.

“Darling, I taught you your moves.” She deliberately squeezed it, grasping the wand through her clothes. “You don’t want to be expelled from that… magic school, so just wait for them to wake up.”

"Are you planning to go see the professor?"

Nietzsche trusted her, of course, so he believed that Eileen was indeed just stopping by for a visit.

“I can’t get away right now, but of course, if you’d like, I can take you with me…” Eileen pinched his cheek with her other hand and whispered in his ear, “Merry Christmas.”

“This time is different from before. If you want to live, you can’t get involved.” Nietzsche blushed and pushed her head away.

“A weakness, a fatal weakness, so I had to do it.”

Eileen is gone. Every time she came, she left a deep impression on everyone present. She was frivolous but not dissolute, and the joy, sadness, and surprise she showed were indistinguishable from reality.

Perhaps, as Eileen said, only a deep and genuine trust like Nietzsche's could truly put her at ease.

When Hermione woke up, she found herself lying in a bed. She instinctively touched herself and, finding nothing wrong, began to look around the rather small bedroom.

On the bedside table were a collection of poems and "The Stranger," while on the desk were scattered draft papers, some containing research on spells, and others containing sketches drawn with a pen.

Apart from a bed and a desk for resting, there was nothing else.

"Awake?" Perhaps hearing the noise, Nietzsche poked his head out from under the door.

"You didn't even warn me?!"

“I was just trying to teach you a lesson… so you won’t let your guard down next time you see Eileen.” Nietzsche caught the pillow that was thrown at him and continued, “By the way, do you drool in your sleep?”

What do you mean by learning from mistakes?

Who knew that everyone who came into contact with Sherlock Holmes was so dangerous? Mr. Watson was right after all. The name Sherlock Holmes is practically synonymous with trouble. Wherever he goes, trouble follows!

"No...but I have a habit."

"Please say."

"I'm used to drooling after waking up!"

Hermione vowed that she would get her revenge, at least... wait, Erin Adler would be a good role model. Just look at Mr. Holmes, they started scheming against each other from the moment they met.

Good, Hermione has learned her lesson.

(I wonder if you, dear readers, are satisfied with Eileen's first appearance, hehe)

Chapter 57 Weasley's Mission

After that casual visit, Eileen never appeared again, like a gentle breeze carrying the scent of flowers.

After spending a few days preparing at home after the Christmas holidays, Nietzsche, carrying a warning letter from the Ministry of Magic, set off with Hermione to return to Hogwarts.

Many people seemed happy after the holiday started, and even Draco Malfoy temporarily forgot about the minor frictions and unpleasantness.

Aside from Marcus... perhaps someone went too far the night before he left school, causing him to walk with a limp now, which, combined with his gloomy face, makes him a carbon copy of Snape.

However, there is still a difference in their IQs.

“Ron, after discussing it with Hermione, we’ve decided to give you an important mission.” One day after the start of the school year, Nietzsche threw several black boxes onto the Slytherin table in the Great Hall.

These are all listening devices that Lestrade acquired, each about three centimeters wide.

Ron and Harry, no longer as reserved as before, ignored the disgusted looks from some of the older Slytherins and sat down next to Nietzsche.

"What is this Muggle stuff?" Ron had never seen anything like it before, and cautiously probed it with his finger. "If it's a Christmas present, this...this doesn't even look as good as the Muggle coin Harry gave me,"

Hermione cleared her throat, composed herself, and said, "The bugging device...didn't you say your father liked to cause trouble for Malfoys, so..."

“That’s not called causing trouble!” Ron started nitpicking. “My dad has always wanted to send his bunch of Death Eaters to Azkaban—by the way, you might not know, that’s the prison specifically for dark wizards.”

According to Hermione, it was as if the Weasleys were deliberately picking a fight.

Influenced by his uncle, an elder in his family, Ron developed a sense of justice—he was extremely resistant to Death Eaters and dark wizards, wishing that they would be punished by law and then drained dry by the Dementors of Azkaban.

“You and Nietzsche are usually hanging out in the library at this time, why are you bringing this up with me for no reason today?” Ron said, hands on his hips, clearly sensitive to Hermione’s arrival.

Although his vocabulary was a bit rough, it was very vivid.

“This thing allows your father to hear everything the Malfoys do at any time,” Nietzsche said, pushing the black box forward. “So, to be precise, we’re looking for your father to help us out.”

"Just this little thing? Muggle?"

“I remember now! I saw it in a movie when I sneaked into the living room to watch TV at night while Vernon was asleep!” Harry slapped his forehead, quite surprised. “Ron, this thing is really suitable for dealing with them.”

With Harry's assurance, Ron gradually showed delight and picked up a black box to play with.

Muggle, huh?

This thing can monitor someone's every move... Ron thought about what his father had said and realized that his father wasn't joking. Muggles can always achieve magic in non-magical ways.

“But wizards’ magic can interfere with signals, so we need to make improvements,” Hermione said calmly.

Ron's behavior was not beyond her expectations, because he would not directly refuse, whether it was his 'anger towards the Death Eaters' or his 'Gryffindor-style mischief'.

“No problem! George and Fred like playing with these things.” Ron stuffed the remaining boxes into his pocket, glancing in Draco’s direction and letting out a sly laugh. “They won’t refuse. Leave it to me!”

This is truly strange... Nietzsche noticed Ron's change.

He spoke of his brothers with much more confidence than before. You see, Ron used a wand and wore clothes that were hand-me-downs from his brothers, which made him seem somewhat humble, since he wasn't exactly the kind of funny guy who could make people laugh.

Ron wasted no time and immediately abandoned Harry to search for George and Fred.

This is a great opportunity to finally stand up for yourself!

“Let’s go, George and Fred alone won’t do.” Nietzsche said goodbye to Theodore and headed outside.

Harry was puzzled: "If George and Fred, who can invent those skip-school candies and canary cookies, can't do it, then who can? Are you trying to drag Professor Quirrell into this too?"

"Hagrid..."

"Hagrid? Him?!" Harry was shocked. "None of his desserts are safe to eat!"

After Harry followed Hermione and the others to the stone hut at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, they saw Hagrid using a shovel to push aside the thick snow, creating a path wide enough for the three of them to walk side by side.

Hagrid, who had just finished cleaning up, looked up and saw three black dots that had suddenly appeared in the snow.

"What brings you here?" He took off his gloves, rubbed his rough hands on his mole-skin coat to wipe away the sweat.

Ni nudged Harry next to him with his elbow.

“We…we want to ask you for a favor,” Harry said honestly.

"Haha, if I can help." Hagrid had just opened the door when Toothpick ran out for some fresh air. "Come in, it's warm inside... as long as you're not breaking school rules, Harry."

This honest and kind-hearted giant wizard, who could maintain such a character after experiencing the darkest of times, was already enough to earn Nietzsche's admiration. Sometimes he really thought Hagrid and Mrs. Hudson were quite a good match.

One is meticulous in his work despite being rough around the edges, while the other is thoughtful and perceptive.

Perhaps because few people usually come here, many things are placed in a mess, and Nietzsche caught a glimpse of those metal parts again.

"So, what do you want from me, coming all the way from the castle?" Hagrid squatted on a wooden stump.

“Make something, transform an ordinary person’s tool into a magical object,” Nietzsche said bluntly. “Don’t be so quick to refuse, Hagrid. This isn’t something we’re doing for fun; it concerns the lives of many people.”

Harry's eyes widened.

What's going on? Someone who has trouble even watching TV has no idea what's happening in the outside world.

“This… I’m sorry, modifying Muggle items without permission is against the rules…” Hagrid was startled by Nietzsche’s words.

“But we haven’t broken any school rules. Besides, you actually have your own magically modified cars, don’t you?” Hermione grasped the wand that had slipped from her sleeve, causing the parts hanging from the rafters to float over.

Brake parts, springs, pedals... they were all polished until they shone brightly by Hager.

"Alright, alright, keep your voice down!" Hagrid stood up in a panic, accidentally bumping his head.

Damn it, Harry and Ron came here every now and then and never noticed anything wrong, but Nietzsche came once and looked through every corner of the room.

Hagrid explained, "No flying broomstick can support my size. Arthur recommended me; only a Muggle vehicle can bear my weight... Nietzsche, Harry, I don't want to go to Azkaban..."

Hagrid had clearly misunderstood something; he thought the Slytherin would use this opportunity to blackmail him.

“As long as you’re not a dark wizard, I don’t care how many laws you’ve broken. We just want to know how you managed to get magic to replace engine oil and make it work.” Nietzsche directed the kettle to pour a cup of tea.

Hagrid's heavy hands cradled the water glass, seemingly oblivious to the scalding temperature.

He breathed a sigh of relief after confirming the purpose of their visit, thinking: Great, people who can be friends with Harry are all good people, at least I don't have to worry about going to Azkaban anymore.

Hermione, on the other hand, held her head high, looking eager to learn, which made Hagrid a little embarrassed.

"Then you also need to tell me what you're going to do." He picked up Ya Ya, his movements as gentle as a girl's.

“There are black wizards committing murders outside, and we suspect that this is related to certain families,” Nietzsche said. “Ron’s father should know something about this. If you don’t believe me, you can ask him.”

Ron's father is Arthur Weasley, whom Hagrid just mentioned.

Now working in the Ministry of Magic's Department for the Prevention of the Abuse of Muggle Items, a position Ron himself describes as incredibly boring, Nietzsche senses an opportunity—he's a rare talent in the wizarding world.

Hagrid didn't know how to explain it at the moment.

He's fine with doing heavy work or feeding magical creatures, but asking him to give lectures... well, forget it.

“Well, actually wizards can use spells to replace some of the properties of Muggle items, thus creating… a kind of…” Hagrid racked his brains to explain the process of making magical items, “It’s roughly like a cycle like an hourglass.”

Although he spoke in a very general way, Nietzsche was still understandable.

The flying broomstick can move because of the braking spell, which uses different spells to complete the original plug-in functions of the motorcycle, enabling it to complete the magical cycle, while the Muggle stuff is the basic model for the experiment.