Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

Hermione, let's start the revolution from Hogwarts Author: Drawing Fox

Introduction:

Nietzsche John Holmes, a child who was forcibly adopted by the Watsons during a mission, began his crazy HP magic journey from this moment.

Hermione Granger: "You shouldn't hit your classmates, Mr. Always Right!"

Nietzsche Holmes: "Become a superman who resists the strong, Miss Obedient~"

He will have a series of titles in the future - the third generation of the Dark Lord, Superman, the secret lover of the Minister of Magic... (Sorry, it seems that some incredible things have been mixed in)

But the first difficulty facing him now is:

Sherlock Holmes, who looks like Iron Man, and Professor Snape have started to be venomous to each other again! !

Volume 1: Chapter 1 Letter from 221 Baker Street, London

"The wind rolled up the dark clouds, between the dark clouds and the sea..."

"Shut up! Nietzsche! You messed up my thoughts! Watson, let Mrs. Hudson take him away!"

"Hey, I'm the landlord, not your servant... Smart Nietzsche, do you want a cookie?"

In Room 221, 221 Baker Street, London, a boy opened the roller blinds of the living room, looked at the gray sky, and stood in front of the arched windowsill and recited a collection of essays aloud.

Not long after, several gunshots were heard from the other end of the living room, and the middle-aged man's mumbling.

Nietzsche turned around and saw the "surprise" on the dining table - not some delicious food, but a corpse.

Mrs. Hudson, the landlord who had just entered the door, was startled, but she didn't show much surprise. She seemed to be used to it. She just looked at the bullet holes left on the innocent wall with some dissatisfaction.

Well... Nietzsche had to admit that he did it on purpose.

The man who was whipping the corpse with a whip at the table was the famous Sherlock Holmes. Nietzsche always felt that his adoptive father was very similar to the playboy named Iron Man in his dream.

Sherlock Holmes and Tony Stark have completely opposite personalities.

"Why don't you call the omnipotent assistant Jarvis..." Nietzsche whispered to himself, taking a raccoon-patterned baked cookie from the tray.

"If I really had the omnipotent robot butler in your dream, then Watson could retire with peace of mind." Sherlock glanced at the back with disdain, muttering.

John Watson, who was taking notes on the side, was accidentally injured inexplicably.

"Ahem... Nietzsche just has a rich imagination. Okay, kid, I think you should go play with the little girl at school... Did you find anything?"

"The time of death was about two days ago. There was no gunshot wound, no fight, no history of illness, no traces, just like..."

Nietzsche lay on the table, sniffed the pleasant smell of gunpowder, and took over the conversation: "Like being killed by magic."

"Interesting, our little superman who is domineering in school has also begun to believe in magic."

Sherlock wiped his stubble, held his pipe, sank into the sofa, raised his left hand, and shot the wall again. The sudden sound made Mrs. Hudson scream.

"Sherlock!!"

But Nietzsche just calmly took out the newspaper from his schoolbag and threw it on the table.

The title on it was printed with "Strange Death Case, Another Incompetence of the English Police!" 》

"Dad, this is the latest newspaper. Another murder happened this morning. The victim was a member of the church. People began to believe that this was a disaster sent by God. Even some people in the police station thought it was impossible."

"I am not you... Never mind. Nothing is impossible in this world!" Sherlock tilted his head, pulled the newspaper over, and asked casually while reading, "What do you think?"

"God is dead."

This was Nietzsche's calm answer.

"Oh my God..."

And this was Mrs. Hudson's sigh, looking up and closing her eyes.

But Watson closed the notebook and looked at Nietzsche in disbelief.

"How did you know about the police station?"

"Dad, I met Inspector Lestrade after school today, and he told me." Nietzsche said helplessly, "Please don't show this expression, after all, you can hide a head in the refrigerator."

"What? You also put a...head in the refrigerator?!" Mrs. Hudson was even more shocked.

Sherlock and Nietzsche looked at each other.

The father and son coughed several times in succession, stood up in tacit understanding, put on their windbreakers, as if their nerves were connected, their movements were extremely consistent, and they walked out of the room silently.

Only the old father John Watson was left at home, facing the questioning of the landlady.

Yes, Nietzsche has two adoptive fathers-Sherlock and Watson.

And there is also a busy adoptive mother-Mary Mozstein.

Although it will not be long before her name is changed to Mary Watson.

Although Nietzsche was adopted by the Watsons, in fact, because of their busy work, he spent interesting time with Sherlock Holmes almost every day...

At least for Nietzsche, it was fun to deal with human heads and dismembered bodies every day.

"Okay, kid, your goal has been achieved." Sherlock patted the ash and twisted the tobacco in the pipe, "Tell me, what trouble have you made in school that requires me to clean up your ass?"

"You'll find out when you get to school."

Nietzsche gave him a look of disdain.

"I really don't know how Aunt Eileen fell in love with you when you look like this... If you dig into the beggars now, I'm sure someone will drop a coin into your hat."

"You little lunatic with antisocial personality, you were transferred to another school last time because you went too far... What was the name of the little fat guy you beat up?"

"Dudley Dursley, a cake piled high with lard."

This is not the first time Nietzsche has beaten a classmate.

"You're not much better!"

Sherlock scratched the stubble on his chin that had not been trimmed for a long time. He suddenly appeared from indoors to outdoors, which made his eyes narrow.

Just as he was adjusting to the light, a postman rode a bicycle passing by on the newly renovated stone floor and quickly thrust an envelope into Nietzsche's hands.

The voice was old and deep, and judging from the lines on his hands, he was probably a man in his early fifties.

"Mr. Holmes, your envelope."

Nietzsche looked away from the postman and touched the paper with his fingers out of habit.

It is not an industrially produced paper on the market. It is very rough. You can clearly feel the tiny lumps when you touch it. There is also a mark on the cover, which is the same as the mark of the lacquer:

A shield with a lion, snake, eagle, and badger inside.

The boy looked at the letters under the mark and felt a little strange: "Hogwarts? I don't remember filling in this school."

But Nietzsche didn't say much. He just thought about it for a while while walking, and then calmly opened the letter when he turned around Baker Street.

It says:

Dear Nietzsche John Holmes, we are pleased to inform you that you have been approved to attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Enclosed is a list of required secretaries and equipment.

The semester is scheduled to start on September 1st, please bring your reply via owl.

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore.

Vice Principal: Minerva McGonagall.

Sherlock Holmes poked his head curiously and said, "What's written on it?"

"A magic school...don't you think it's a coincidence that within a few days of a religious murder, such a letter was sent out. Is this a warning?"

Nietzsche frowned and handed the envelope to the slovenly adoptive father.

He is professional when it comes to detecting clues.

When Shylock got the letter, he first felt the texture of the paper, then put it under his nose and sniffed it vigorously. Finally, after making sure that Nietzsche had read the letter, he stuck out his tongue and licked it.

He even smacked his tongue in recollection.

"Ancient handmade kraft paper...with a bit of chocolate sweetness, interesting...was it just a letter sent by a human?"

"Otherwise? There are no mobile phones like miniature TVs now."

"But the letter emphasizes that you must use an owl to reply to the letter, but animals are not qualified to deliver letters. They must be professionally trained. Even if it is a threatening letter, it is too unprofessional."

Sherlock scowled and threw the letter into the trash can with some disappointment.

"So this is a prank?"

"Then the book list was drawn up later just to make people think it was a real thing?" Sherlock then threw it into the trash can. "Maybe it was just to kidnap an innocent kid like you."

Whether it's a prank, a threat, or a real school, with the last clue, no matter how real, everything comes to nothing.

No description of the designated owl!

But the only thing that is certain is that their residence is exposed.

"Who would go to that kind of magic school?" Nietzsche said contemptuously, "I will definitely devote myself to all mankind from now on!"

"Because of those dreams in your head?"

"I always feel that those things really happened. Father, you have to admit that there are some things that cannot be described by words. Words themselves are a kind of symbolic order and a kind of violence."

Just like his name.

Nietzsche? John Holmes, want to break out of this secular framework.

"So this is why you hit your classmates?!"

When the father and son, who behaved strangely, walked to the school gate, a voice broke their illusions.

Following the voice, I saw a girl with brown curly hair, some freckles on her face, and chocolate-colored eyes. She was standing at the door holding a few books and frowning.

He, Nietzsche, met the most difficult person in his life.

Hermione Granger! !

Volume 1: Chapter 2: Superman Nietzsche, childhood sweetheart

"Damn it, why hasn't she left school yet?"

This was Nietzsche's first thought when he saw Hermione.

"Hmm...she seems to be a girl from a middle-class background, and she has quite a conflict with Nietzsche."

This was Sherlock's first thought when he looked at Hermione.

In fact, as a long-term consulting detective of the English Police and a friend of Inspector Lestrade, he had already seen the truth through the scrapes and bruises on the joints on the back of Nietzsche's hands.

I'm just used to it and don't bother to expose it in front of Watson.

It's normal for children who live in the Holmes family to have some brains, isn't it?

"Is this your classmate? Friend?" Sherlock habitually looked at him with scrutiny, "Let me guess, this is the 'your only friend in school' that John Watson said?"

Hermione felt a little embarrassed by his stare.

Is this Nietzsche's father?

That's right! Absolutely! They looked at each other directly when they met for the first time. They were just like each other.

"No!"

"Friends? No!"

Eleven-year-old Nietzsche and twelve-year-old Hermione denied it almost at the same time.

"I'm his father. Who did he beat up in school today?" Sherlock suddenly smiled and put his hand on the boy's head. "Sorry, he transferred here because of this kind of thing last time."

Nietzsche looked like he had seen a ghost.

When he looked up, he could see the Oscar-winning smile on his adoptive father's face.

Retribution has come! Sherlock will never suffer any loss! !

Hermione's eyes widened after hearing this, and she looked at Nietzsche with an incredible look: "Didn't you say that you were brave and the police arranged for you to transfer because they were worried that you would be retaliated against?"

"Indeed..."

"Liar!"