Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Although Snape might become his professor in the future, did Nietzsche care about such things?

No, he doesn't care...

Snape's arrogance and unwarranted prejudice towards ordinary people reminded Nietzsche of the old British aristocracy's attitude towards colonies like India, strictly speaking. He was extremely disgusted by this attitude.

This is also one of the reasons why Nietzsche subconsciously rejected Hogwarts.

“Ah, I wonder if the wizard has ever heard of handwriting psychology.” He pulled a letter from his pocket, which had the leader’s signature on it.

It reads: Severus Snape.

"Each stroke is meticulously written, but overall it's slightly smaller than the average person's handwriting... The lines slant downwards, yet the overall style is very elegant. What does this represent?"

Nietzsche, feigning curiosity, lowered his head and read aloud.

Sitting next to him, Shylock secretly applauded in his heart. He knew that Nietzsche had not raised him in vain: at least in front of outsiders, he would still be united against a common enemy.

"If you were like me instead of Watson, you would understand... Professor Snape was a pragmatist, extremely meticulous in his work, but at the same time he constantly suppressed himself and almost lost his empathy."

Perhaps Nietzsche and Shylock's analysis was too outrageous, causing the atmosphere in the room to drop to zero.

Watson shook his head repeatedly, knowing that if the two of them acted like that, they would definitely offend others.

“Hmph…maybe Muggles aren’t as stupid as I think…” Snape turned his gaze away and continued, “As for you, Mr. Holmes, I hope your studies will continue as well as they are today.”

"This blatant threat...it seems we need to add another one: pettiness."

Snape said with a forced smile, "When people say I'm petty, I'd better really be petty, otherwise how can I prove your reasoning is correct?"

Good, good, good. They've already won by making this mysterious wizard lose his composure like this.

Nietzsche and Shylock, seeing that ashen, sullen face, felt their appetites return.

Diagon Alley, in Snape's brief description, seems to be a gathering place for wizards, a place specifically for purchasing magical items.

Strangely enough, a few days ago when I went to the Diogenes Club and asked Mycroft Holmes, a junior British official, to temporarily access the satellite, I didn't find any gathering place.

Clearly, the magic Snape spoke of was more mysterious than Nietzsche imagined.

"Nietzsche! Shylock! Someone is looking for you!!"

Just as they were about to leave, Mrs. Hudson's voice came from down below.

The footsteps in the hallway were quite chaotic, numbering about four people. The first to appear at the door was Hermione Granger, Nietzsche's classmate and nemesis from school.

She took two steps at a time and was the first to run up.

"Oh---looks like they're looking for you." Watson straightened his collar from behind.

"what happened?"

"You...I..." Hermione stammered, "I'm planning to go somewhere to buy some things, do you want to come with me?"

She wasn't the type to hide her thoughts; she practically wore her inner turmoil on her sleeve.

Nietzsche, leaning heavily on his cane, cleared his throat. His thoughts were also drawn back to a year ago, before finally returning to calm. The corners of his mouth naturally turned up, and his eyes narrowed slightly.

Those who knew him well knew that Nietzsche had found a new source of amusement...

"What a coincidence, I'm also planning to go out for a trip. Maybe we can go together."

Hermione stamped her foot in frustration, and when she saw Snape with a sinister expression behind Nietzsche, she felt a little scared.

Nietzsche wasn't in a hurry. He just watched Hermione Granger painstakingly explain that she hadn't come specifically for this purpose, but simply wanted to hang out with him during the summer holidays, and was just passing by...

But Professor McGonagall's exclamation made her swallow back the words she was about to say.

"Severus?!"

"Minerva?"

Following Hermione was a person also dressed in wizard robes, but the color was much nicer than Snape's.

Professor McGonagall was initially sighing inwardly, lamenting the changes and injustices of fate, and just a moment ago she felt like the sinner who had torn apart her childhood sweethearts.

But the next second, he saw that familiar face of Snape, who always had a stern face and looked as if the whole world owed him a million Galleons.

Hermione is numb.

"By the way, where are you going to buy something?" Nietzsche, having mastered Sherlock's father's acting skills, pretended to be serious and said, "Oh... let me guess, is it a place called Diagon Alley?"

"You know... no, how do you know..."

"You told me that yourself. Has anyone ever told you that you're really not suited to lying?"

Hermione got an erection.

Her fist hardened.

"So...you're just going to watch me spend so much time explaining and make a fool of myself?!"

She was even thinking of excuses, how to comfort Nietzsche who didn't know magic, and how to persuade him that even if he wasn't a wizard, he could still become the most powerful ordinary person through his own intellect.

However, the cold reality is that Nietzsche also had secrets, and he had even managed to extract information from her questions that afternoon, right after the exam.

He kept pretending he didn't know.

After calming down, Hermione, contrary to her previous anxiety and shame, suddenly felt that if Nietzsche were to get hit by a dump truck later, she would only think it was good that he was hit, and that he should be paralyzed.

"You're a really bad thing."

"By the way, did you think I would be scared, so you wanted to take me to Diagon Alley today?"

Hermione's gaze turned cold.

She was certain that if their parents weren't here, if they were at school, she would have smacked him on the head with a dictionary.

“Professor McGonagall, the person I’m looking for has moved away from Baker Street. Let’s just leave.”

They rushed down without looking back.

All that remained were the Grangers and the Watsons shaking hands warmly.

“My name is Wendell Granger, and this is my wife, Monica Granger. Our daughter mentioned that Nietzsche’s father was a military doctor.” He looked at Sherlock, then hesitated, “And this is…”

Damn it, he saw Shylock that day, could it be Nietzsche's father or mother?

“John Watson, this is my friend Sherlock Holmes, and this is his fiancée.” Watson’s lips twitched, and he quickly explained, “We are all this boy’s guardians.”

"You guys are... truly genuine."

Mr. Granger couldn't understand it, but he was greatly shocked.

Two adoptive fathers and one adoptive mother—even in England, that would be considered a bit premature.

Aside from Nietzsche and Hermione, the others were all somewhat unexpected, so it seems this Diagon Alley trip won't be too boring.

Chapter Seven: I was wrong, I'll do it again next time.

The current situation is very unfavorable for Nietzsche.

On the one hand, the two professors were having a very pleasant conversation. The Grangers and the Holmes family were also chatting and laughing, but Hermione turned her head away, not wanting to talk to Nietzsche.

Are we going to back down again?

Wait a minute... why did he say "again"?

Pshaw, he's not afraid of Hermione!

The two cars stopped in front of a bar. Sherlock Holmes got out of the Grangers' car, and both of them were laughing heartily. It's unclear what he said that made the Grangers laugh so hard.

After getting off the car, Sherlock immediately strode over, his smile vanishing instantly.

"I've almost run out of jokes, Watson. I'll drive next time."

McGonagall and Snape led the way into the bar, followed by Watson, who stepped in front of Nietzsche and Hermione. He leaned on his cane with his left hand and tucked his right hand into his waistband, swinging it slightly.

The people passing by on the street merely glanced at the two people in wizard robes ahead before continuing on their way to work.

The sign above the tavern was still swaying in the wind: The Broken Cauldron.

As soon as you enter, you are greeted by a strong aroma of butter. The lighting is dim, but you can still see traces of beer foam on the dented wooden table. There is also a staircase leading to the second floor on the wall.

They looked like the protagonists of a Western movie, their shadows stretched long by the sun outside the door.

In a state of tension, Hermione instinctively reached for the nearest object...

Then, as if disgusted, he deliberately used force to fling Nietzsche's sleeve away.

"Professor!" A bald bartender behind the counter, wiping glasses, suddenly brightened his cloudy eyes. "Just opened. What would you like to order?"

His head was like a walnut, covered in wrinkles.

“Tom, we’re picking up new students…” McGonagall nodded seriously, then turned around and asked the group behind her, “Before we enter Diagon Alley, you can choose to wait for us here while drinking butterbeer.”

Mr. Granger asked worriedly, "Ordinary people can't go in?"

“No, I’m just worried about giving Muggles unnecessary frights,” Snape said coldly. “For example… a very good Muggle who is good at reasoning might go crazy if he sees something that is impossible for him.”

Sherlock touched the table with his finger, then dipped it in the foam and held it under his nose.

Such a powerful taunt was so infuriating that it not only failed to break his defenses, but it also failed to stir his emotions.

Watson first looked at Sherlock, and when the other man didn't take out any money, he looked at the unmoved Mary. Unfortunately, neither of them made any move, so he could only walk away from the bar in disappointment.

He only wanted to order a drink, but unfortunately, he saw a few people playing chess and wanted to gamble a few rounds.

"Ah, freshmen, have a pleasant journey!"

After following the two professors through the back door of the tavern, all they saw was a solid brick wall and a trash can in the corner.

Professor Snape lightly tapped a few bricks with his wand, and the entire wall began to tremble and contract outwards, forming a giant door in the center.

The only way to get deeper into the area is a path paved with cobblestones.

Nietzsche touched the bricks, and surprisingly, there was no mechanism at all. He could clearly see that the bricks were stacked together, rather than inserted into gaps.

The order of knocking is: starting from the trash can, count three pieces upwards, then count two pieces horizontally.

"Welcome to...the magical world. Everyone, do you really understand this world?"