Hermione, let's start a revolution from Hogwarts!

Shylock and Nietzsche simultaneously touched the bridge of their noses, then looked down and exchanged a glance.

The latter looked puzzled. The two were fine when he picked him up yesterday, so why was one of them missing today? Come to think of it, it's probably because his two fathers had another argument over the wedding.

Nietzsche: You dragged me here because Watson isn't here?

“He went to get engaged to Mary.” Sherlock sniffed.

"Don't worry, I'm still here..."

“You can’t use magic here,” he said, rejecting Nietzsche’s offer.

“I can’t use it, but I didn’t say the professor can’t.” Nietzsche blinked. “Professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts, believe me, he can at least guarantee your absolute safety.”

And so the matter was settled, with Nietzsche filling in for Watson's absence.

Nietzsche brought up the case of the terrorist attack. As far as he knew, the poison gas Quirrell handed over was created by Voldemort, and the Home Secretary and the knights, who betrayed the Temple of the Four Orders, were the ones who led the way.

"Regarding poisoning... I never thought a pureblood would just throw a poison gas bomb into the middle of a city out of thin air," Nietzsche cautioned.

"Tell me your thoughts, wizard."

Mycroft's words were a suggestion to Nietzsche to open the door to another world for the remaining two.

“Let’s start with Voldemort, whom the purebloods once served,” Nietzsche said. “He despised Muggles. How could someone so arrogant and power-hungry randomly prey on an ordinary person?”

Moriarty clearly took advantage of this.

"If I wanted to destroy the entire British government system with my death, how would I do it?"

Nietzsche's words made Mycroft understand what kind of people his opponents were—they held the belief that 'the weak sheep should be given to the strong shepherd' in their attitude towards Muggles.

"Then you'll have to clean up the entire parliament..."

“The Parliament House, the next attack will be when the entire British government is present,” Sherlock calmly analyzed.

This is really not good news for them.

Chapter Seventy-Seven: Muggle Detective and Wizard Professor

Wizards, even Sherlock, thought these people were difficult to deal with.

The main reason was that he had never been exposed to it, not even by his own brother: 'Look, Sherlock, there is actually a group of people in Britain who are capable of changing the world.'

He made thorough preparations for this...

"What are you doing?" Nietzsche had just turned two pages in his book in the bedroom when he heard hurried footsteps in the living room.

He opened the door and saw Sherlock dressed like an old street performer, wearing a gray scarf and a tattered robe that he had apparently rummaged through some trash can.

Moreover, from the side, Nietzsche noticed that his father's nose seemed a bit too high...

“Are you wearing a fake nose?” he said impatiently, frowning. “I should have said that Quirinas Quirrell is a pretty easy-going guy and was a professor of Muggle Studies.”

That's right! Today is the day Quirrell visits Baker Street!!

There was no initial plan for this; Nietzsche had only mentioned it casually in a letter to Quirrell, but to his surprise, Quirrell agreed.

“To be precise, he should be called a ‘former’ professor,” Sherlock stomped the floor to correct her, “and a poor wretch who was used by Moriarty.”

Nietzsche's face darkened, and he stepped forward and ripped off his nose.

Just then, Mrs. Hudson's laughter and a few fragmented conversations suddenly rang out from the doorway. Very well, it seemed that Quirinas Quirrell had arrived.

“I am the professor of defensive magic at the academy. I can tell from Nietzsche that a genius is absolutely inseparable from the influence of the environment…” Quirrell’s energetic praise made the landlady’s laughter rise a little higher.

But he deliberately omitted 'dark magic,' making it sound like a self-defense elective course in a prestigious school.

“He is much more obedient than his father, you flatter me... Come with me.”

Sherlock immediately tossed his comical top hat onto the bay window of the balcony and sat down with his legs crossed.

"From what I've seen so far, he doesn't seem like the kind of... timid, cowardly person you described." He never hesitated to mock, raising his eyebrows as he said, "He's quite attentive, though a little bit—"

“Easygoing,” Nietzsche insisted.

Sherlock just pursed his lips in annoyance and sat up straight, now he heard the footsteps had stopped.

Then, just as he expected, Mrs. Hudson opened the door for Erchiro, rang the doorbell symbolically, and half-stood her body inside the house, with her feet sticking out of the door frame.

“Nietzsche’s teacher…Sherlock, take on the role of ‘father’ properly and have some professional ethics.” She greeted him simply.

When Quirrell walked in, Nietzsche thought he had mistaken him for someone else.

Is that Quirrell?

He didn't look like a wizard at all: he was dressed like a late 19th-century British cavalryman, wearing a cobalt blue tailcoat, a black bow tie, a vest underneath, and heavy leather boots.

He looks like someone who just stepped out of the set of "Indiana Jones".

Quirrell glanced around briefly and spotted Sherlock dressed in 'home clothes,' so he awkwardly sat down next to Nietzsche.

“Aren’t you a Muggle wizard?” he said.

“I am indeed a Muggle wizard,” Nietzsche said, somewhat puzzled.

"Are you sure...your dad isn't a wizard?"

“…”

Nietzsche's questioning gaze flickered between Quirrell and Sherlock, before he understood what was going on.

Clearly, Quirrell, a wizard who loves to travel, is more like a normal person than Sherlock... Sorry, please forgive Nietzsche's thoughts, but it's a fact.

You should know that his father was a complete shut-in who never went out except for requests.

Seeing the increasingly tense atmosphere, Quirrell chuckled and said, "Mr. Holmes, I've heard you've been having a headache lately because of some dark wizards. In return, I'm willing to offer any help you can."

From the moment they met, the two began to sizing each other up.

"Why?" Sherlock just laughed, very quickly, almost like a muscle twitch.

“With Nietzsche’s help, I’m willing to do anything, as long as it doesn’t violate my personal morality.” Quirrell didn’t elaborate further. “Believe me, catching a dark wizard who dares to kill is no easy task.”

"It sounds like they're thugs...bodyguards or something..."

Quirrell showed no displeasure at such almost derogatory remarks.

This gave Sherlock some food for thought: it seemed his son's relationship with this wizard was going to deepen, and he didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

“You can think of it that way.” Quirrell made a zipping gesture in front of his mouth. “If necessary, you don’t need to reveal the specifics... My job is to identify the murderer.”

But Sherlock's mind wasn't on that.

"And what about Moriarty?" He poured the other man a cup of tea.

To be honest, it's rare to see a wizard who can be so humble.

"Don't even think about it... Of course, I'm not speaking up for him." Quirrell cleared his throat and continued, "He knew all along that Mr. Holmes would intervene, and he had absolutely no interest in ruling."

He wasn't surprised to hear the name.

Rather, it's more accurate to say that he deliberately let Nietzsche know about this person.

"You mean—Moriarty has been spying on us all along?" Nietzsche's thoughts drifted back to the day he received his first Hogwarts acceptance letter. "But...but I don't understand..."

"To be precise, you can't stop him because he saw through the conflict between wizards and Muggles long ago."

When Quirrell mentioned the other person, he couldn't help but show a hint of admiration, just like a scholar seeing another colleague solve a mathematical problem that he had been unable to understand for decades.

From his words, the two Sherlock Holmeses witnessed an unprecedented catastrophe:

Wizards and Muggles will eventually clash head-on.

Nietzsche understood this better because he knew that the direct cause of this disaster was Voldemort... He would eventually emerge from the dark, damp sewers and lead his followers in war.

“But how did Voldemort know that purebloods were going to kill Muggles?” Nietzsche asked.

“Because of this.” Quirrell took off his sun hat, revealing his bald head. “When a person’s body is corrupted, their soul is also affected, and he is a master of mind control.”

Soul-stealing spells—this was a magic spell Nietzsche had never heard of before.

But it's not hard to understand—Voldemort, through some kind of mind-reading magic, saw the conversation between Quirrell and Moriarty, and foolishly got involved.

As a result, the great Dark Lord was used by the Muggles he despised the most.

“But purebloods hate Muggles, so why would they help another group of Muggles… Malfoy.” Sherlock instantly realized, “They’ve reached a mutually beneficial agreement with certain British ministers.”

“Correct answer~” Quirrell’s eyes were full of admiration.

Sherlock then stood up excitedly, pacing back and forth, muttering to himself.

"So from the very beginning, all the clues we saw, including those about the raw materials for the poison... were actually deliberately shown to me by Moriarty. Of course, how could an ordinary person produce undetectable poison gas?"

"He exploited the arrogance of the dark wizard and supported the Home Secretary and Sir Kava's defection in order to ignite the powder keg between the two worlds."

"And I had no choice but to stop this crime so that those pure-blood wizards wouldn't benefit either, and in the end, only Moriarty emerged victorious..."

His erratic behavior worried Quirrell—had Holmes gone mad?

Nietzsche calmly pulled two licorice wands from his pocket, shared them with Quirrell, and comforted him: "My father has always been like this. You'll get used to it. After all, he has a bit of a masochistic tendency."

Scotland Yard's savior, tricked twice by the same woman, yet still falling for her.

Isn't he a masochist? In this respect, Nietzsche completely agreed with Watson.

“But why did you suddenly switch sides?” Sherlock turned around abruptly, staring straight at Quirrell. “Even if you were threatened by that Voldemort, you have no reason to side with Moriarty!”

“First of all, I did not defect... Secondly, Nietzsche gave me my life, so what if I were to betray him?” Quirrell’s words made Nietzsche a little embarrassed.

In fact, Nietzsche simply felt that he had just happened to save the day.

There's no reason not to save them. Why not save one person if you can? Besides, instead of destroying the magic stone, why not exchange it for a new hope?

But sometimes that's how it is. Before an inevitable outcome occurs, all sorts of coincidences begin to converge, and Nietzsche's accidental choice led to Quirrell's current support.

It was an unexpected stroke of luck.

“But I must make this clear first, I have no idea who your Muggle ministers will befriend.” Quirrell said helplessly.

“There’s no need to worry about that,” Nietzsche interjected, raising his hand. “Arthur Weasley probably used the search warrant to put the stuff in those pureblood mansions. You just need to make the final identification.”

Don't ask who taught you this dirty trick.

The answer is Mycroft.