Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Passing through the dark passageway, you are greeted by rows of commercial streets paved with cobblestones. It's hard to imagine that such a quaint street is hidden right next to Charing Cross in London.

There was a sense of shock, as if from another world.

It's as if Sherlock and his friends, along with the Granger family, have traveled through time and returned to medieval Europe... If that's true, it's too dark; this isn't DC, the neighboring city.

No one wants to go back to Europe's darkest period, unless they're crazy.

"Look at the clothes those people are wearing! Ah! And a bookstore!!" Hermione's eyes were practically glued to the view.

The shop window was filled with colorful books and crucibles. Watson even noticed the wanted posters pasted on the stone wall, with faces in them still showing him fierce expressions, sometimes disappearing.

Everything is alive.

Snape glanced sideways, but unfortunately, he didn't see Sherlock show any emotion, and Nietzsche was at best a curious child.

"Is this the detective family you mentioned, investigating murders committed by dark wizards in the Muggle world?" McGonagall observed cautiously.

If you're truly unfazed by Poland's arrival, that's a lie.

Sherlock suppressed his curiosity, Nietzsche revealed it without reservation, Watson was a retired veteran with a mental illness... only Mary was the most unfathomable one.

She was initially a little excited, but she managed to calm herself down, a feat that even Sherlock had to admire.

"Believe me, Minerva, that boy is no pushover."

"I don't ask for anything else, just that they be more obedient than those two from the Weasleys." Professor McGonagall rubbed her head, waved her hand, and shouted, "Everyone, we need to go to Gringotts to exchange our Galleons!"

Gringotts, located on the north side of Diagon Alley, appears to have its own monetary system, according to Professor McGonagall, making it seem like a second country within Britain.

Hopefully, the Prime Minister, who is still dealing with Northern Ireland, won't hear this news, or he'll be furious.

Nietzsche tried hard to make some analysis in his mind:

Professor McGonagall, who is also the vice-principal on the envelope, is not short-staffed for welcoming new Muggle students, which means that this Hogwarts school is not large and is short-staffed.

Judging from the crucibles and clothing they sell, wizards are also very distant from human society, probably because they can use some unknown methods to block signals.

"Is that... an orc?"

Hermione looked at the small creatures guarding the Gringotts gates; they looked a lot like the orcs living underground in The Lord of the Rings.

This ugly thing is what made Sherlock lose his composure.

He even crouched down, not to stop them, but to pinch their long, pointed ears. Just as these dwarf-like creatures showed signs of getting angry and raising their hands, he immediately slipped behind Snape.

“They are fairies, Miss Granger who thinks she knows everything... not some kind of orc.”

Hermione pouted, about to say something, when Nietzsche pulled her into the conversation.

As she passed through the first bronze gate and the second silver gate, she noticed inscriptions of poems warning her about theft of financial statements:

Those who constantly demand and seek gain without effort will inevitably face the most severe punishment...

"Did you offend the professor again?" She looked down at her hand being held, unaware that a blush had already crept onto her face. "I only met him for the first time, and he's already so fierce."

"Ignore him. That's just how Professor Snape is. When he first came here, he almost got shot by my fathers."

"With...with a gun?!"

“We are investigating the recent murders. Besides, who told him to wear the same cult-style black robe as the Duke?”

“You always have an excuse, Nietzsche!” Hermione growled, her cheeks puffed out. “You haven’t learned your lesson yet. If the professor gets angry and fires you, you’re finished!”

Nietzsche watched the Grangers and his family exchange pounds for a pile of gold coins, and lazily surveyed the magnificent marble hall.

Hundreds of fairies sat in front of the counter, weighing different coins on bronze scales.

He saw a giant, much taller than an ordinary person, leading a thin boy with black-rimmed glasses, as they squeezed through a small door in the hall.

Wait a minute... haven't I seen that little boy somewhere before?

"Nietzsche!!"

A roar snapped him back to his senses.

"What's wrong, Miss Rule-Abiding?" He looked into her chocolate-colored eyes and naturally took over the conversation. "I know... Yes, you'll keep an eye on me, umm... Okay, good luck."

It's been two years since I beat up that fat guy named Dudley and transferred to Hermione's school.

Nietzsche knew what Hermione was going to say just by looking at her bristling like a lion. So Hermione, whose lines had been interrupted, froze on the spot. Nietzsche had already said all her lines. What should she say?

But one thing is certain: she was even more annoyed by Nietzsche's stubbornness.

"Next time, I won't help you!"

"Ahem... How about I treat you to ice cream later? Don't forget, wizards must study, or their lives will be in danger, so Hogwarts won't expel students randomly."

Hermione thought about what Professor McGonagall had said earlier and nodded.

Suddenly she looked at him with a strange expression: "By the way, you didn't bring a gun to school, did you?"

Nietzsche placed his hands on his cane and paused for a moment.

"Of course I won't bring it."

He certainly wouldn't bring it voluntarily. If Watson and Sherlock asked for it and secretly put the Colt revolver in the suitcase when he wasn't looking, then it wouldn't be Nietzsche's problem.

"Speaking of which, when you're hitting people, you don't use... magic, do you?" She pinched the other person's thin arm and complained, "With a physique like yours, how could you possibly beat three upperclassmen?"

“Congratulations, Hermione Granger, you’ve finally found the blind spot, though I usually call it the ‘Force’.”

"How did you do that?"

Is she the only one who loses control?!

“I won’t tell you, sorry Hermione, but even at the new school, you can’t surpass me,” Nietzsche said casually. “You used to be number one in the whole school, just because I didn’t transfer.”

"Nietzsche! No wonder you have no friends!!"

The boy froze, stiffly turning his head away.

As soon as she said it, Hermione felt a little ashamed. She stammered, trying to explain that she was just joking. Well... she was just too excited and went a little overboard.

"If you have friends, why bother me with rules every day?"

Hilarious, she probably thinks I'm angry... Nietzsche looked at Hermione's awkward expression and grinned heartlessly.

Hermione considered herself to be quite patient, after all, she could read an entire dictionary by herself, but for some reason, once she started talking to Nietzsche, her patience would be quickly worn down by him.

Grind it down until there's not a single bit left.

"Just kidding, I don't really know why."

"roll."

"okay."

Chapter Eight: Unicorn and Fire Dragon

Five pounds equals one Galleon, which is equivalent to seventeen Silver Sickles or twenty-nine Bronze Nats.

Nietzsche looked at the large bag of Galleons in his hand. He never imagined that Watson, whose wallet was controlled by Sherlock and Mary, could actually get those fairies to refuse to continue exchanging pounds for wizard coins.

After all, Muggle money is of little use to fairies, so a limit was set.

“If you gambled less, maybe we could take over the whole Diagon Alley,” Nietzsche said wistfully.

“Happiness is priceless, son!” Watson puffed out his chest and said righteously for his few hobbies, “Just like how you beat up so many people, I’ve never been angry about the compensation.”

That seems to make sense.

Hermione, standing to the side, stared wide-eyed.

So that's how it is. No wonder Nietzsche was always good at making excuses for himself; he learned it from his own family.

What a good person he was, but he just went astray... Hermione was heartbroken and vowed to straighten Nietzsche's head and stop him from breaking school rules and making excuses for himself!

Professor McGonagall led them out of the bank, explaining the school's curriculum as she did so.

“Let’s go buy the books first, then we’ll go to Ollivander’s to buy wands.” She pulled out the wooden stick that was different in style and pattern from Snape’s. “It’s an essential item for wizards, unless you can master wandless spellcasting.”

Wandless casting?

It sounds unusual, like the highest level of target shooting is not having to hold the gun in your hand.

"You mean the small stick made of cedar wood?"

McGonagall was somewhat surprised; she hadn't expected that the Muggle in front of her could recognize the material at a glance.

"It's not just cedar wood, there's also a dragon's heartstring inside... I know Muggle factories have mass production capabilities, but believe me, no two wands can be perfectly replicated. There are only twin wands, no two are exactly alike."

"Just like no two leaves in the world are exactly alike?"

The professor cast an approving glance at Watson, who had interrupted.

“I used to speak out in the Muggle world too, although I haven’t been in contact with it for a long time and don’t know how things have developed, but the basic principle is the same.”

Ollivanders Wand Shop is on the south side, directly opposite Gringotts.

This shop looked more dilapidated than other shops selling crucibles and clothes; the signboard hanging on it looked like it might fall off at any moment, and some of the gold lettering was peeling off.

It reads: "The Ollivander family, making these since 382 BC."

"Cough cough..."

Nietzsche pushed open the door and was choked by the dust and pungent incense that rushed in.

The shop looked small, with only a bench in the center of the room. Hermione curiously examined the wand placed on the purple cushion, while Miss Granger and Mr. and Mrs. Watson followed closely behind.

As for Sherlock Holmes... he's nowhere to be found again.

"Your...wands...were all bought from here?" The boy cast a pitiful look at the two professors.

He was sorry, but he simply couldn't imagine how the wizarding world, detached from human society, could be in such dire straits, its economy seemingly as bad as England's before the Thatcher Plan.

"Nietzsche!" Hermione secretly pinched the soft flesh on his waist. "Teacher...it's because you don't respect your teachers that they didn't speak up for you."

Professor McGonagall simply shook her head, looking at the two of them with a hint of envy in her eyes.

Snape, on the other hand, simply chose to ignore it.

Ah, who hasn't had a childhood sweetheart? It's a pity, fate is cruel... But luckily, at least these two freshmen don't have to go through what their generation went through.

"Olivendine! We have a guest!"