Chapter 4: The Real World

"You must go to school."

"You don't understand. So many people want to get into Hogwarts, to experience magic, but as Muggles, they can only give up!"

Snape had worn out his patience trying to convince Nietzsche, but to no avail.

If it weren't for the law and Hogwarts' school rules, he would have resorted to force, tying him up and dragging him there.

Nietzsche's only reply was:

"Well said, but… I refuse!"

"You could use your abilities to achieve far more than any Muggle ever could," Snape said, his face expressionless. "This world could become whatever you want it to be."

He gently waved his wand, turning the candelabra into a snake.

With another flick, the withered flowers nearby bloomed once more.

"But at least Muggles can manage to keep their hair clean," Sherlock remarked dryly.

He looked at Snape with a mocking, arrogant gaze.

Snape's fists, hidden in his robes, clenched even tighter. He tried hard to calm his emotions, but Sherlock had already noticed the slight tremble in Snape's sleeve.

"So…" Snape's only reason for coming was Nietzsche.

"Precisely because ordinary people can't do these things, I want to help them achieve it. Primitive people couldn't have imagined that today's humans could hear voices from the other side of the world," Nietzsche explained.

Snape fell silent.

To be honest, this was the most shocking response he had ever heard.

It wasn't the content that surprised him, but Nietzsche's age. Looking into those determined eyes, Snape realized that all the arguments he had prepared were futile and powerless. If only he had...

Snape stood up and accidentally glanced at a piece of paper under his seat.

It depicted a strange diagram and listed some toxic substances to be extracted from living organisms. He couldn't help but pick it up, quickly scanning a few lines.

"How do you know how to make potions?"

"What?" Watson thought he had misheard.

"Potions!" Snape muttered to himself. "Damn it… the Ministry of Magic's Obliviators must not be doing their job. Muggles shouldn't know anything about wizarding affairs!"

Sherlock and Nietzsche exchanged a glance.

It appeared! The famous Holmes family's unspoken telepathy!

"A murder case, multiple victims, no leads at all. In fact, if it weren't for the lack of an owl, I would've sent you a letter myself… Also, what you're wearing is just…" Nietzsche couldn't be bothered to complain anymore.

"The owl comes with the letter. How could you not have one?" Snape questioned, casting doubt on the messenger.

Equally suspicious, Snape began looking through the materials they had handed him. Finding them insufficient, he walked over to the table, pried open the mouth of the deceased, and inserted his wand.

Mary returned the gun to her fiancé and whispered, "Why do all the people who come to your house seem so odd?"

"That's one of the reasons I want to marry you and move out," Watson whispered back, "At least this will keep Sherlock busy for a while."

Meanwhile, Sherlock stood opposite Snape, with Nietzsche at the professor's side.

"There are traces of dark magic here. Muggles wouldn't be able to detect it."

"So, this case has something to do with you… wizards?" Sherlock forced out the unfamiliar word, then added begrudgingly, "Fine, I suppose I've been hiding one myself."

Nietzsche wisely remained silent.

Silence was best; if he didn't speak, he couldn't say anything wrong.

"It's possible. But what is this hydrogen cyanide?" Snape asked.

"It's a toxin extracted from apple seeds, but Watson found no signs of poisoning," Sherlock explained.

Snape flipped open the eyelids of the deceased, pausing for a moment before commenting, "Interesting."

"What? Are Muggles capable of something wizards can't do?" Sherlock mocked. "Nietzsche, next time you should say 'wizards are dead,' instead of 'God is dead.'"

With Snape's help, the investigation progressed quickly, and they recorded some unusual terms.

Words like "undetectable poison," "Imperius Curse," and "Unforgivable Curses."

Snape began to sense the danger of this case. He noticed that the victims were all figures from Muggle religious circles, which made the situation more complicated. He decided it was time to leave.

"I must report this to Headmaster Dumbledore."

Sherlock's mind kept sensing something, but it was like a thick fog blocking his way. Before him stood another world—or rather, the true nature of this world.

Nietzsche, too, found himself intrigued.

"Dad, I think I should visit this magic school after all."

"Nietzsche?" Watson's tone turned serious, dropping his usual humor. "You can't go there just because of a murder case. I'd rather you learn some… magic… at least it would save us from doing household chores."

Snape immediately recognized the opportunity.

"This case involves dark wizards. According to wizarding law, Muggles can't be informed, and even if they know, their memories must be erased… unless they are family members of wizards."

Nietzsche thought back to the owl that never arrived.

He realized his adoptive parents had already been drawn into a vortex. This murder case was unlike any they'd dealt with before.

Just the display from this Potions professor alone was enough to spark curiosity. He needed to help clear a path for Holmes and Watson.

"With great power comes great responsibility… That's what you told me," Nietzsche said, pulling a pen from his breast pocket and writing a brief note on a scrap of paper. He handed it to Snape.

"That's our responsibility, mine and Holmes'. Not yours," Watson replied.

"But I will eventually become one of you. And surpass you both."

### Chapter 4: Watson's Dilemma

Watson understood his son. In some ways, Nietzsche was just as stubborn as Sherlock, with the same thirst for adventure.

Some birds are simply born not to be caged.

"Well, in a week, I'll take you to Diagon Alley to buy your school supplies… if your Muggle parents are willing," Snape finally said.

With that, Snape took the reply letter and, in full view of everyone, with a "whoosh," his body twisted into a point as if sucked into a pipe and disappeared in a flash.

"Alright, I think we need to discuss how you helped Irene Adler escape from Bohemia back in the day," Sherlock suggested.

"Oh dear! I just remembered I made plans with Hermione to catch frogs today. Everyone, see you at the Royal Restaurant tonight!" Nietzsche said, trying to slip away.

"Hold on." Watson rapped his cane against the floor, stopping them both in their tracks. "Nietzsche, you can't get involved in this… Sherlock! Say something!"

John Watson was getting serious.

Sherlock, with no other choice, shrugged and cracked his knuckles.

Nietzsche looked eagerly at his father and said, "Shall I, or will you?"

"You first, young one."

Clearing his throat, Nietzsche started pulling everyone's attention back to the moment Snape had entered the room.

"Snape is a man who suppresses his desires intensely. From the moment he stepped inside, his focus was on me. That tells us something important… he didn't act like a typical pursuer."

No matter how sharp a person is, when they arrive at a new location, they always begin by observing either the people or the surroundings.

"His urge to act is extremely high, yet there was no dirt or dust on the bottom of his black robes, meaning he wasn't in a rush to get here."

"Yes, I saw that," Watson nodded. "He just disappeared with a 'whoosh,' but that doesn't mean he's normal. He might even be involved in the murders!"

Nietzsche shot his father a look of approval.

Though Watson's deductive skills weren't as sharp as Sherlock's, his instincts were very keen.

"The issue lies in the letter. He seemed surprised when he found out the owl hadn't arrived, meaning he might not know everything himself. He could just be a professor sent to inform a student."

Most importantly, when faced with a gun, Snape hadn't shown a strong will to resist.

It wasn't a display of confidence, as in "I know you won't shoot me," but more of a blank, observant gaze.

"And now—we've been exposed, while knowing nothing about the enemies lurking in the shadows. I need to gather intelligence for you!"

"I… I can't accept this," Watson said after a pause, shaking his head repeatedly.

"Dad, I'm just going to school, writing letters, and collecting information. It's not like I'm going off to die."

"Did you hear what that man said? Dark wizards!" Watson's eyes bulged as if he could already see his adopted son jumping into a pit of fire. "And you want to go to a place filled with wizards!"

Mary linked her arm with his, calming Watson's frenzied heart just a bit.

"Alright, maybe Nietzsche can learn to protect himself." Then, glaring at Nietzsche, he added angrily, "And you will explain all this magic, this 'Force,' to us tonight!"

Nietzsche had no choice but to agree.

He had a feeling this case would be Sherlock's father's finest investigation yet.

And, perhaps, the key to unlocking the door to a whole new world.