Chapter 7: I Was Wrong, I'll Dare Again Next Time

The current situation was quite unfavorable for Nietzsche.

On one hand, both professors were chatting happily. The Granger couple and the Holmes family were also laughing and joking, while Hermione turned her head, unwilling to engage with Nietzsche.

Was he really going to concede again?

Wait... why did he think "again"?

Tch, he wasn't afraid of Hermione!

The two cars stopped in front of a pub. Sherlock Holmes stepped out of the Granger couple's car, both sides laughing joyfully. It was unclear what he said to make the Granger couple burst into hearty laughter.

As soon as he got out, Sherlock quickly walked over, his smile instantly fading.

"My jokes are almost done, Watson. Next time, I'll drive."

McGonagall and Snape led the way into the pub, followed by Watson, who stepped in front of Nietzsche and Hermione. He leaned on his cane with his left hand, while his right hand rested at his waist, swaying slightly.

The people passing by on the street merely glanced at the two wizards in robes before continuing on their way to work.

The sign above the tavern swayed in the wind: The Leaky Cauldron.

Upon entering, they were greeted by a strong aroma of butterbeer. The lighting was dim, but they could barely see the uneven wooden tables, still bearing the remnants of beer foam, and a staircase leading to the second floor by the wall.

They looked like the protagonists of a Western movie, their shadows stretched long by the sun outside.

Feeling nervous, Hermione instinctively reached for the nearest thing at hand...

Then, with a sense of disdain, she deliberately shrugged off Nietzsche's sleeve.

"Professor!" A bald bartender at the bar wiped a glass, his murky eyes instantly brightening. "We just opened; what would you like?"

His head was as wrinkled as a walnut.

"We're here for new students, Tom..." McGonagall nodded seriously, then turned to the group behind her, "Before you enter Diagon Alley, you can choose to drink butterbeer here while waiting for us."

Mr. Granger said worriedly, "Muggles can't come in?"

"No, we just worry about Muggles getting unnecessary shocks," Snape said coldly. "For example... an overly perceptive Muggle encountering things that are impossible for them might go mad."

Sherlock's fingers brushed the tabletop, then dipped into the foam and brought it to his nose.

This kind of cutting sarcasm didn't just fail to break him; it didn't even stir his emotions.

Watson first looked at Sherlock, waiting to see if he would take out money. When he didn't, he turned to the indifferent Mary. Unfortunately, neither of them showed any sign of assistance, so he could only walk away from the bar, feeling dejected.

He only wanted to order a drink, but regrettably, he noticed a few people playing chess and hoped to bet a few rounds.

"Ah ha, new students, wish you a pleasant journey!"

Following the two professors through the back door of the tavern, everyone saw a solid brick wall, with a trash bin in the corner.

Professor Snape lightly tapped his wand on a few bricks, and the entire wall began to tremble, starting to shrink inward. This formed a giant door in the middle.

Leading deeper inside was only a path paved with cobblestones.

Nietzsche touched the bricks and, surprisingly, didn't find any mechanisms. He clearly saw that the bricks overlapped with each other instead of fitting into any gaps.

And the knocking sequence was: start from the trash can, count up three bricks, then count two sideways.

"Welcome to... the magical world, everyone. Do you really understand this world?"

As they passed through the dark corridor, they were met with a cobblestone commercial street, hard to imagine that such an ancient street lay hidden next to London's Charing Cross.

It was a frightening feeling, as if Sherlock and the Grangers had traveled through time, returning to medieval Europe... If that were the case, it would be too dark; this place wasn't the neighboring DC.

No one would want to go back to Europe's darkest times, unless they were crazy.

"Look at the clothes those people are wearing! Ah! And there are bookstores!" Hermione's eyes widened in excitement.

The shop windows were filled with colorful books and cauldrons. Watson even noticed wanted posters plastered on the stone walls, the faces of the individuals on them scowling at him, sometimes disappearing.

Everything felt alive.

Snape glanced sideways, regrettably noticing that Sherlock showed no emotion, while Nietzsche could at most be considered a curious child.

"This is the detective family you mentioned, investigating dark wizards committing murder in the Muggle world?" McGonagall observed carefully.

If his heart were really calm, that would be a lie.

Sherlock had suppressed his emotions; Nietzsche showed his curiosity openly; Watson was a retired soldier with a psychological condition... Only Mary was the most inscrutable.

She was initially a bit excited but then also calmed down. Even Sherlock had to admire that.

"Trust me, Minerva, that boy is no simple character."

"I don't expect much; just as long as he's more obedient than the Weasley twins, that's enough," Professor McGonagall said, rubbing her temples and waving her hand, "Everyone, we need to go to Gringotts to exchange for some Galleons!"

Gringotts, located on the north side of Diagon Alley, according to Professor McGonagall, seemed to have its own currency system for wizards, like a second country within the UK.

Hopefully, the Prime Minister handling Northern Ireland wouldn't catch wind of this news; otherwise, he'd be furious.

Nietzsche worked hard to analyze the situation in his mind:

Professor McGonagall was also the deputy headmistress, and they didn't have extra personnel to welcome Muggle newcomers, which meant that Hogwarts wasn't large and was understaffed;

From the cauldrons and clothing being sold, it was clear that wizards were quite distant from human society, likely related to their ability to shield signals through unknown methods.

"Is that... a goblin?" 

Hermione looked at the small creatures guarding either side of the entrance to Gringotts, which resembled the goblins living underground in *The Lord of the Rings*.

These ugly creatures were the reason Sherlock lost his composure.

He even crouched down, but when they blocked him, he pinched their sharp, long ears. When these dwarf-like beings showed signs of annoyance and began to raise their hands, he quickly dashed behind Snape.

"They're goblins, Miss Granger, who think they know everything... not half-breeds."

Hermione pouted, wanting to say something when Nietzsche pulled her along.

As they passed the first bronze door and the second silver door, she noticed poetry inscribed on them, warning against theft:

"Taking without working will lead to the harshest punishments…"

"Did you offend the professor again?" She glanced down at her hand, which he was holding, unaware that a blush had already crept onto her face. "It's my first time meeting him, and he's so fierce."

"Don't mind him; that's just how Professor Snape is. When he first came, my fathers nearly shot him."

"With... with a gun?!"

"We're investigating recent murders, and besides, who told him to wear a cultist's black robe like the Duke?"

"You always have excuses, Nietzsche!" Hermione huffed, "Haven't you learned your lesson? What if the professor gets angry and expels you?!"

Nietzsche looked at the Granger couple and his family, exchanging pounds for a pile of golden coins, lazily surveying the magnificent marble hall.

Hundreds of goblins sat at the counter, weighing different coins on copper scales.

He saw a giant, taller than ordinary people, leading a skinny boy with black-rimmed glasses through a small door from the hall.

Wait... had he seen that boy somewhere before?

"Nietzsche!!"

A roar snapped him back to reality.

"What's wrong, Miss By-the-Book?" He looked into her chocolate-colored eyes and naturally responded, "I know... yes, you'll keep an eye on me, uh-huh... okay, please go ahead."

Since he punched that fat kid named Dudley, he had been at Hermione's school for two years.

Nietzsche watched as Hermione flared up like a lion, knowing what she was about to say. Thus, when she was cut off, Hermione froze, realizing he had finished her lines. What was she supposed to say now?

But one thing was certain: she found Nietzsche, who seemed impervious to emotions, even more infuriating.

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

"Ahem... how about I buy you an ice cream later? Don't forget, wizards must learn; otherwise, it can be life-threatening. So Hogwarts doesn'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 aren't bringing a gun to school, are you?"

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

"Of course not."

He certainly wouldn't take one voluntarily, but if Watson and Sherlock requested it and slipped a Colt revolver into his luggage while he wasn't paying attention, that wouldn't be Nietzsche's concern.

"Speaking of which, when you hit someone, you're not using... magic, are you?" She pinched his thin arm, mocking, "With your build, how could you take on three upperclassmen?"

"Congratulations, Hermione Granger, you've finally discovered the blind spot, although I usually refer to it as 'the Force'."

"How do you do it??"

Was she the only one who would lose control?!

"I'm not telling you, sorry, Hermione. Even in a new school, you can't surpass me." Nietzsche said leisurely, "You used to be first in the school; it's just because I didn't transfer."

"N-Nietzsche! No wonder you don't have any friends!!"

The boy was taken aback, stiffly turning his head away.

As soon as she said that, Hermione felt a bit embarrassed. She stammered, trying to explain that she was just joking. Alright... she had just gotten too excited and gone overboard.

"If you had friends, why would you annoy me with rules every day?"

It was laughable; she didn't really think she had made him angry, did she? Nietzsche looked at Hermione's awkward expression, unable to hold back a smile.

Hermione considered herself patient; after all, she could read an entire dictionary by herself, but for some reason, whenever she spoke with Nietzsche, her patience quickly wore thin.

Worn down to nothing.

"I was just teasing you; I honestly don't know why."

"Get lost."

"Okay then."