Hermione, let's start the revolution at Hogwarts

"Your son was..."

"Uh-huh, I know, I just beat him, and your son didn't lose weight because of it." Watson nodded perfunctorily, interrupting Penny's words.

He knew the Dursleys, and like Nietzsche, he had no good impression at all.

"What is your relationship with him?" Sherlock suddenly changed the subject. He found that the child chatting with Nietzsche was standing behind Dudley, and he keenly noticed a small scar on the boy's forehead.

"Harry Potter?" Vernon frowned and said warily, "We are his guardians!"

"Well, not parents." Sherlock rubbed his hands, "Don't you think the size difference between Potter and Dudley Dursley is too big? It seems that this kind of guardian must be some kind of foster care or entrustment, and it is "Compulsive."

Vernon quickly turned his head, glanced at Harry, and then took a few steps back.

"What on earth do you want to say?" He was a little afraid.

"You are abusing a child, and it is very likely that it is a child of an immediate family member. Generally, this kind of abuse is to fill a psychological void... In other words, you feel inferior because of this child Potter."

Sherlock was sure, because Vernon was Harry Potter's uncle, but also his guardian.

If it is voluntary care, it is absolutely impossible for the nutritional gap between the two children to exceed that much. Coupled with what Nietzsche calls ‘bullying’, it is easy to know that the identity of the guardian is forced or deliberately applied for.

Penny looked panicked and whispered to her husband to leave quickly.

She could no longer bear every word that Sherlock said, so she grabbed the birdcage carried by Harry and walked out. This forced Harry to say goodbye to Nietzsche and hurriedly chased after his aunt.

"But since they don't like that child, why do they want to be a guardian? Pure psychopathy?" Watson was a little confused.

Shylock put his arm around Nietzsche's shoulders, as if teaching him.

"You found a blind spot---why? The Dursleys didn't want people to find out that they were abusing a child of an immediate family member, so they used cold violence. Think about what they called Nietzsche...'freak'?"

Nietzsche understood that his father was analyzing their psychology.

"So they hate Harry because he is a wizard, so they look at any passerby furtively just to worry about being noticed by other ordinary people?" he said suddenly.

"Not entirely correct." Sherlock said, "I said that sadists like this are motivated by low self-esteem. They only feel excited when they see others being worse off than themselves."

In fact, the Dursleys hated themselves for not being wizards.

But Harry didn't think so much. When he noticed the look on Dudley's face when he saw Nietzsche, he suddenly felt that this year's summer vacation was more comfortable than before.

"What do his parents do?" Penny immediately started asking as soon as the car door closed.

"I don't know." Harry sat in the back seat, resting his hands on the back of his head comfortably, "I don't care how much money his family has when I'm friends with others. Who knows... he probably has something to do with the police. "

He also heard what Ron said.

Vernon grabbed the car handle uneasily and said, "Listen... Petunia and I were never abusive..."

"I don't know!" Harry yawned and said angrily, "Does it count as abuse if you throw my wand and suitcase into the trash?"

"Who said we should throw it away? We just put it in the storage room for temporary storage...Yes, we are just afraid that you will lose it." A disgusting sneer forced out of Penny's face.

But Harry turned his head disdainfully and looked at the scenery outside the car window.

He only learned about his life experience last year. He had a group of friends at school, but when he returned here, his so-called "relatives" treated him like a dog that had rolled in a dirty place.

By the way...Nietzsche's father said they came out of inferiority complex.

Summer vacation should be fun and full of sunshine, instead of being dragged out of Baker Street before you could enjoy Mrs. Hudson's morning tea on the first day.

Unfortunately, Nietzsche enjoyed this.

He was still wrapped in a blanket, and he didn't even have time to change out of his pajamas. Nietzsche brought his last stubbornness to the small white building in west London, which is a famous British humanities college.

The sign at the door says - Diogenes Club.

Talking was prohibited inside, so Nietzsche could only watch Sherlock communicate with the front desk in sign language he couldn't understand, and then followed him to one of the rooms.

"This is the drawing room." Mycroft's voice came from inside.

He was holding a newspaper and walking naked on the wooden floor. His belly was slightly bulging, which was the sequelae of socializing. Behind him was an old man pushing a dining cart.

"Would you...want to borrow my blanket?" Nietzsche felt a little irritated and looked up at the ceiling.

"Why?" Mycroft said doubtfully, "This is the Diogenes Club, where all the solitary and unsociable people can keep to themselves... This is Diogenes' barrel."

Taken from the original cynicism, it is not the later ‘cynicism’.

"Taking off your clothes does not mean you abandon worldly desires." After Nietzsche complained, he turned his grievances to his father, "You dragged me out of bed just to... disgust me?"

He threw off his plush slippers and collapsed on the sofa wrapped in a blanket.

Unfortunately, his uncle just nodded in agreement, and then called Stanley to push the cart faster.

"I want to know your progress." Mycroft said leisurely.

"Moriarty..." Nietzsche started with a heavy bomb, and raised his chin towards Sherlock, saying proudly, "A person who dares to be friends with the magic professor and also uses wizards."

"What a coincidence, there is a famous astrophysicist named James Moriarty at Oxford University recently." Sherlock added a torpedo.

Not only was he not idle, he also took out a book "Asteroid Mechanics" from his arms and threw it on the table.

It seems that Sherlock has already approached once in his own way.

"Evidence." Mycroft folded the newspaper and said calmly, "The person you two Holmes accused is an Oxford professor, a philosopher, and a friend of the contemporary prime minister."

But the problem is that everything was not done by him.

Moriarty could sense any movement. Take the recent murder of the American ambassador, for example. He did almost nothing but watched. Voldemort asked Quirrell to make poison and then had someone kill him.

Even if Sherlock knew that someone was tipping off the dark wizard, he could do nothing.

"He is the 'Napoleon' of the criminal world. Now more than half of the cases in London are related to him!" Sherlock said.

"But the evidence can only show that one of the Home Secretaries is colluding with the enemy. We don't even know where they are going to throw the undetectable gas." Mycroft said, "By the way, why didn't Watson come today?"

Sherlock and Nietzsche touched their noses at the same time, lowered their heads, and looked at each other.

The latter was full of doubts. When he picked him up yesterday, the two were still fine. Why was there one less today? Speaking of which, I'm afraid his two fathers had a conflict over marriage again.

Nietzsche: You dragged me here because Watson is not here?

"He is engaged to Mary." Sherlock sniffed.

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

"You can't use magic here." He rejected Nietzsche's proposal.

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

So the matter was settled, and Watson's absence was filled by Nietzsche.

The case of the terrorist attack was pulled over by Nietzsche. As far as he knew, the poison gas handed over by Quirrell was made by Voldemort, and the Home Secretary and the Knight who betrayed the Temple of the Four Orders were the guides.

"About poisoning...I never thought that pure blood would throw a gas bomb into the middle of the city out of thin air." Nietzsche reminded.

"Tell me what you think, wizard."

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

"Let's talk about Voldemort, who the pure blood once served." Nietzsche said, "He hates Muggles. How could such an arrogant person who advocates power above all else casually capture an ordinary person?"

And Moriarty obviously took advantage of this.

"If I want to destroy the entire British government system with death, what should I do?"

Nietzsche's words made Mycroft understand what kind of people his opponents were - their attitude towards Muggles was based on the belief that 'weak sheep should be handed over to strong shepherds'.

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

"Parliament, the next attack will be when all members of the British government are present." Sherlock analyzed calmly.

This is really not good news for them.

Volume 1: Chapter 77 Muggle Detective and Wizard Professor

Wizards, even Sherlock, think that this group of people is not easy to serve.

Mainly because he has never come into contact with them, and even his own brother has not told him: 'Look, Sherlock, there is actually a group of human beings in the UK who are capable of changing the world'

He made full preparations for this...

"What are you doing?" Nietzsche just turned two pages of a book in the bedroom and heard impatient footsteps in the living room.

He opened the door and saw Sherlock dressed like an old street juggler, wearing a gray scarf and a tattered robe. It was unknown which trash can Sherlock had dug out of it.

Moreover, from the side, Nietzsche found that his father's nose seemed a little high...

"Are you wearing a fake nose?" He frowned and said impatiently, "I should have said that Quirinus Quirrell is a relatively easy-going person and has served as a professor of Muggle Studies."

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

At first, there was no plan. Nietzsche just mentioned it casually in the letter to Quirrell, but he didn't expect the other party to agree.

"To be precise, it should be the 'former' professor." Sherlock kicked the floor and corrected, "And he is a poor guy who was used by Moriarty."

Nietzsche's face darkened and he stepped forward to pull off his nose.

At this time, Mrs. Hudson's laughter and some fragmented conversations suddenly sounded at the door. Very good, it seems that Quirinus Quirrell has arrived.

"I'm the professor of defense at the academy. From Nietzsche, I know that a genius is absolutely inseparable from the influence of the environment..." Chilo's energetic praise made the landlady laugh even louder.

But he deliberately omitted 'black magic', which sounded like the kind of self-defense fighting elective course in an aristocratic school.

"He is much more obedient than his father, thank you very much...Follow me."

Sherlock immediately threw his funny high hat to the bay window of the balcony and sat down with his legs crossed.

"From the current point of view, he doesn't have the timid and timid temperament you said." He never hesitated to laugh, and said with a raised brow, "He is quite attentive, a little bit - --"

"Easy-going," Nietzsche insisted.

But Sherlock just pouted angrily and sat up straight. Now he heard the footsteps had stopped.

Then, just as he thought, Mrs. Hudson opened the door for Quirrell, rang the doorbell symbolically, and stretched half of her body into the house, leaving her two feet outside the door frame.

"Nietzsche's teacher...Shylock, take on the role of 'father' and have some professional ethics." She said hello simply.

When Quirrell walked in, Nietzsche thought he had recognized the wrong person.

Is that Quirrell?

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

Looks like someone who just stepped off the set of Raiders of the Lost Ark.

After a brief glance around, Quirrell spotted Sherlock in 'home clothes', so he awkwardly sat next to Nietzsche.

"Aren't you a Muggle wizard?" he said.

"I am indeed a Muggle wizard." Nietzsche was also a little strange.

"Are you sure...your dad is not a wizard?"

"..."

Nietzsche's doubtful eyes flickered on Quirrell and Sherlock, and then he knew what was going on.

Obviously, Quirrell, a wizard who likes to travel, is more like a normal person than Shylock... I'm sorry, please forgive Nietzsche's thoughts, but this is a fact.

You must know that his father is a pure stay-at-home guy who never leaves the house except for commissions.

Looking at the heavy atmosphere that gradually solidified, Quirrell laughed and said, "Mr. Holmes, I heard that you have been having a headache recently because of some dark wizards. In return, I am willing to provide all help."

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

"Why." Sherlock just smiled, very fast, no different from a muscle twitch.

"Based on Nietzsche's help, I am willing to do anything as long as it does not violate my personal morality." Quirrell did not explain too much, "Believe me, if you want to catch a dark wizard who dares to kill people, it is not an easy task. "

"Sounds like thugs...bodyguards or something..."

Facing such words that were almost derogatory, Quirrell didn't feel any displeasure.

This gave Sherlock some thoughts: It seemed that the relationship between his son and this wizard was deeper, and he didn't know whether it was a good thing or a bad thing.

"You can think so." Quirrell made a 'zip up' gesture in front of his mouth, "If necessary, you don't have to reveal the specific situation... My job is to testify against the murderer."

But Sherlock's mind was not on that.

"What about Moriarty?" He poured a cup of tea for the other party.

To be honest, it is rare to see a wizard who can lower his posture so low.

"Don't think about it... Of course, I'm not helping him speak." Quirrell moistened his throat and continued, "In this whole matter, he already knew that Mr. Holmes would stop it, and at the same time he had no intention of ruling. Not interested."