Chapter 9: Harry at Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions

Hermione's smug attitude was the last thing Nietzsche wanted to pay attention to right now.

But she purposely flaunted it in front of him, even when they were at Flourish and Blotts looking at the Defense Against the Dark Arts books, she had to add her two cents.

To be honest, Mrs. Granger wanted to remind her daughter to ease up a bit, but her husband gently held her back.

"When have you ever seen her act like this?" Mr. Granger said, half amused, half exasperated, pulling his wife further back from the two kids running ahead. "This proud look of hers... doesn't it feel more genuine to you?"

Genuine, yes…

In her parents' eyes, Hermione's current behavior was far more endearing than the way she usually buried herself in books and fantasies.

This was how a twelve-year-old Hermione was supposed to be—vibrant and full of life. Not the kind of dull routine of a corporate worker: school, homework, meals, bathing, reading, and then sleep.

This energy and liveliness was what Hermione should have been showing all along.

Mr. Granger couldn't tell whether Nietzsche was doing this on purpose or by accident. But, considering the family he came from, it wouldn't be surprising if it was intentional.

Meanwhile, in Flourish and Blotts, Nietzsche had raised *Defense Against the Dark Arts: A Beginner's Guide* to cover his face.

"Hermione, while dragon heartstring is indeed stronger than unicorn hair, don't forget that Ollivander mentioned it's one of the hardest wand cores to control."

A slight smirk played on his lips as he watched Hermione's lively behavior.

Yes, this was what life was meant to be like... lively, full of sunshine, not buried in books and constantly mindful of the unspoken rules set by the powerful to oppress the weak.

"But don't forget, as long as I learn fast enough, I can master it!" Hermione shot back.

"Hmph... In that case, you shouldn't just stick to first-year books."

"You're right, thanks for the reminder. I should also get *The Theory of Defensive Magic* and *Magical Potions*."

So, among the incoming first-year students, Nietzsche and Hermione stood out the most. The stacks of books they carried reached so high they could only see the path ahead through their peripheral vision.

After paying for their purchases, Hermione wobbled her way toward the exit, ready to meet her parents waiting outside.

Next was the matter of robes. To be honest, both Nietzsche and Hermione, coming from the Muggle world, found wizard attire... well, let's just say, unique—especially those bright, patterned robes that were hard to describe.

Not to mention, most of the regular clothing looked almost identical.

"Sorry..."

As Madam Malkin was measuring their height, a large man accidentally knocked over a rack of clothes.

It was the giant Nietzsche had seen at Gringotts earlier. His beard was as unruly as Sherlock's, and the boy beside him looked a bit embarrassed by the man's clumsiness.

"Hagrid? Are you here to get a mole-skin coat?" Nietzsche asked.

"I'm here with Harry..." Hagrid replied.

"Harry? Harry Potter?" Madam Malkin gasped, covering her mouth in shock. "Oh my, the famous boy!"

Nietzsche turned his head and noticed the skinny boy beside Hagrid. He looked somewhat familiar. Madam Malkin lifted the boy's hair and gasped again as she saw the scar on his forehead.

Where had he seen him before?

Nietzsche racked his brain but couldn't recall ever beating up anyone that small.

"Nietzsche!"

The voice that called his name wasn't Hermione's usual warning tone, but one filled with surprise and joy—the kind of exclamation reserved for old friends unexpectedly reunited.

Even Hermione raised an eyebrow.

Nietzsche, however, responded with a confused shrug.

"Do I... know you?" he asked.

"It's me! Dudley's cousin!" Harry shouted excitedly. "You're the one who beat up Dudley—I remember you! Sorry I couldn't stand up for you that day when you got expelled. Vernon locked me in the house."

The mention of "Dudley's cousin" triggered a memory.

Ah, that was the boy who was always bullied by the fat kid. Though Nietzsche had to admit that when he beat up that bully, it was partly due to personal reasons.

Right—he'd been transferred schools because of how badly he'd beaten Dudley.

"You wouldn't believe it, after you beat up Dudley, he stopped bullying people as much. Damn Vernon! If I hadn't been locked inside, you wouldn't have gotten expelled."

Nietzsche proudly nodded toward Hermione, a subtle smile of satisfaction on his face.

Did you hear that? Even Harry thought he deserved that beating.

"You two know each other?" Hagrid asked, scratching his head in confusion, clearly more surprised than Harry.

"Yeah, this is the guy I was telling you about—the only person in school who ever stood up to Dudley Dursley. It was because of Nietzsche that Dudley spent his summer learning boxing, hoping for revenge."

Upon examining Harry's small frame, Hermione found herself at a loss for words.

Clearly, Nietzsche had quite a reputation. She couldn't help but wonder—would others, like Harry, one day also be thrilled when they realized they no longer had to fear school bullies?

For Harry, escaping the Dursleys was already a stroke of luck. But to run into the very person who had once stood up for him? That was beyond belief.

"This... doesn't make sense," Hermione said, puzzled. "Wouldn't those bullies usually retaliate even worse after someone like Nietzsche leaves?"

People like that typically sought pleasure in others' suffering.

But Harry shook his head, looking just as confused. "I don't know. Dudley seemed pretty scared after that... oh, right, I remember now! He had that same look in his eyes when he saw Hagrid use magic!"

The answer became clear to Hermione.

"You used magic to..."

"No, I merely applied a little... psychological intimidation," Nietzsche replied.

Hermione glanced at Hagrid, who was listening nearby, and quickly closed her mouth. After swiftly buying a few more comfortable robes and school uniforms, she hurried out.

Harry, meanwhile, was awkwardly pulled about by Madam Malkin, eventually waving goodbye to the departing pair.

As he watched them leave, Harry suddenly realized—these two were nothing like the wizards who went wild upon seeing him. They felt different, more real, and he found himself growing fond of them. What he needed wasn't fame, but friends.

"See you at school?" Harry called.

"See you at school."

...

After returning from the Leaky Cauldron to Baker Street, Nietzsche resumed his usual routine before the start of term on September 1st, alternating between his home at 221B Baker Street and the Grangers' house.

In just two short months, he'd nearly finished reading *A Beginner's Guide to Dark Magic*. He also experimented with a few simple spells from Miranda Goshawk's *The Standard Book of Spells*.

"Magic can disrupt electrical signals like a magnetic field..." Meanwhile, Sherlock was speaking to someone nearby, rattling off clues at lightning speed, looking irritable.

The man sitting beside Nietzsche's father, overweight and appearing as though he might keel over from an excess of sweets at any moment, was none other than Sherlock Holmes' elder brother, Mycroft Holmes—Nietzsche's uncle.

He praised Mrs. Hudson's caramel pudding while barely listening to Sherlock.

"Sherlock, the British government is aware of their existence," Mycroft said, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable. "They're just... curious about the magic that this group, these wizards, use."

"You've known all along?"

"I've always said our deductions operate on different levels. But fortunately, now we have Nietzsche..."

But before Mycroft could even finish his request, Sherlock firmly rejected it.

"Don't even think about it!" Sherlock, cigarette in hand, stared at the bullet holes in the wall. "He has his own path. This trip to school is solely for the sake of our investigation."

"Yes, you're right."

Nietzsche, though lying there with his eyes closed, wasn't actually asleep.

In fact, he felt something akin to his first experience sensing the Force—no, wait, magic. Nietzsche couldn't bring himself to care for that word—it sounded so mundane.

"Reparo!" Nietzsche whispered, waving his wand and uttering the spell, repairing the cup he'd intentionally broken.

Thus, Nietzsche could feel a kind of "energy" seemingly guiding the shattered glass to fuse back together. This energy existed in everything, and what Nietzsche did was merely use the energy within himself to activate it.

This magical phenomenon also caught the attention of the two Holmeses who were conversing on the sofa.

Sherlock was the first to ask, "Is it healing or fusion?"

"It's not healing. I can't create something from nothing... It's more like the atoms are re-fusing and rearranging."

Mycroft only pondered for a couple of seconds before pinpointing the issue: "What if you lost a piece of the glass?"

"Then the cup would have a gap... But I could fill it with the same material, just like using bricks to build a house."

All three Holmeses fell silent.

What did this mean?

It meant the third industrial revolution! The world's structure would begin to shift again!

Imagine if England could enlist wizards' help—society would experience a massive transformation, and resources could be truly reused in a sustainable way.

"Someone is trying to disrupt the relationship between wizards and the British government!"

After witnessing this strange phenomenon firsthand, Mycroft instantly connected the dots. His mind went beyond the murder cases and saw the bigger picture, unraveling the larger scheme.

The reason why Holmes could serve as a secret weapon for Scotland Yard was due to Mycroft and Sherlock's complementary skills—Mycroft was a master of the macro, while Sherlock excelled at finding clues through precise, micro-level observations.

Though Nietzsche often saw the two of them bickering...

"I must inform the Prime Minister immediately. Oh, Nietzsche, once you're at school, stay in touch with MI6 through letters."

With that, Mycroft hurriedly placed a black bowler hat on his head and rushed out.

However, it was Mycroft who bore the burden of safeguarding Britain, while Sherlock began to reorganize all their cases, incorporating this new understanding of the wizarding world. Meanwhile, Nietzsche delved deeper into exploring the uses of magic.

After practicing several spells related to Dark Arts defense, Nietzsche noticed something odd with his unicorn hair core wand... It seemed displeased?

It was like a clogged faucet, with the magic flow inconsistent—sometimes strong, sometimes weak. But when he cast standard spells, there was no such issue.

Nietzsche had no choice but to investigate the mystery behind commonly used spells.

His sharp intuition told him that casting spells was not as simple as waving a wand and reciting some incantation.