Chapter 2: Nietzsche the Superman, Childhood Friends

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

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

"Hmm... she looks like a middle-class girl. Quite a contrast to Nietzsche."

This was Sherlock's first impression of Hermione as he observed her.

In fact, as a longtime consulting detective for the England police and a friend of Inspector Lestrade, Sherlock had already seen the truth through the bruises and scrapes on Nietzsche's knuckles.

But he was used to it and didn't bother to expose it in front of Watson.

After all, a child growing up in the Holmes household was bound to pick up a thing or two. That was only natural, right?

"Is this your classmate? A friend?" Sherlock asked, his usual scrutinizing look appearing. "Let me guess, is this the 'only friend you have at school' that John Watson mentioned?"

Hermione felt a little awkward under his gaze.

Is this Nietzsche's father?

It had to be! Absolutely! The way he stared so directly at people during their first meeting — they were cut from the same mold.

"No!"

"Friend? No way!"

Eleven-year-old Nietzsche and twelve-year-old Hermione denied it almost in unison.

"I'm his father. May I ask, did he get into another fight at school today?" Sherlock suddenly flashed a smile, placing his hand on the boy's head. "Sorry about that. He transferred schools last time because of something like this."

Nietzsche looked as if he had seen a ghost.

He looked up and saw the Oscar-worthy smile on his adoptive father's face.

Retribution is Coming! Sherlock Never Suffers a Loss!!

Hermione's eyes widened even more as she stared at Nietzsche in disbelief. "Didn't you say you were acting heroically and that the police arranged your transfer to protect you from retaliation?"

"That's true..."

"Liar!"

"It was Inspector Lestrade who arranged my transfer. Honestly, there's not much difference," Nietzsche suddenly calmed down, "I just beat up a bully."

Sherlock, hands in his pockets, chimed in, "It wasn't just one, it was 'several'."

Nietzsche stomped on his foot and walked straight ahead.

Hermione, however, didn't leave. She hugged her book and caught up with them. Nietzsche had nothing more to say, so he just silently listened to her prattle on about "school rules" and "moral standards."

When they arrived at the headmaster's office, Nietzsche finally stopped.

"Why are you following me?"

Hermione, who had been mumbling nonstop, suddenly clammed up, and her cheeks flushed red.

Her brown skin, typical of British girls, revealed faint freckles that became more noticeable with the blush. Nietzsche looked at her face, untouched by makeup, and couldn't help but feel a bit sentimental.

She stammered, unable to form a complete sentence.

"Go ahead, madam. Lunatic... I hope this time, you won't get expelled right before you graduate from primary school."

"Think carefully about it!" 

Sherlock, with his pipe in his mouth, glanced at the shadows on the far wall of the headmaster's office corridor, raised an eyebrow, and, without bothering to wipe the ash from his face, pushed the door open and entered.

Inside the private school office, the walls were lined with medals and trophies.

The headmaster was a middle-aged man with a Mediterranean hairstyle, and behind him hung photographs of him with important figures. In the corner were commemorative photos with donors.

The first thing that came to both Nietzsche's and Sherlock's minds was: This man is obsessed with authority and reputation.

"Nietzsche John Holmes... then this must be his father. Please, the three of you, have a seat," said the headmaster, his face twitching slightly when he saw Sherlock's dirty clothes next to his pristine suit.

He didn't realize that every move he made was being scrutinized by Sherlock, who was pretending to be extremely reserved.

"Your son's academic performance is excellent, but his personality is a bit... unique. Just a few days ago, he injured three students. One had a broken nose, the other two had fractured ribs and dislocated knee joints."

"I received letters from the parents this morning. According to school policy, I should expel your son."

At this, Hermione's breathing grew heavier.

Nietzsche noticed that she was clutching a book so tightly that its cover was bending.

"Headmaster, you said..." Hermione mustered the courage to speak in a voice as quiet as a whisper.

"You said 'should expel'."

Nietzsche was speaking to the headmaster, but in reality, he was reminding Hermione.

Could it be that, with primary school graduation approaching, expulsion would have a significant impact? Perhaps he didn't want to offend Inspector Lestrade... Nietzsche calculated every possibility in his mind.

Sherlock, however, remained silent throughout the entire conversation.

He simply pursed his lips, absentmindedly biting down on his unlit pipe, his eyes vacant as he mentally worked through a murder case.

The headmaster glanced at the two daydreamers and sighed inwardly: Problematic father and son.

"You claim that you saw the three students bullying others and stepped in to stop them, acting purely in self-defense... Nietzsche, the unfortunate truth is that none of the alleged victims admitted to being bullied."

The headmaster adjusted his glasses and flipped through the papers on his desk.

A few days ago, this well-performing but troublesome student had tricked three boys into a corner where there were no cameras and beat them up.

The three boys, found unconscious by the school patrol after hours, were taken to the hospital. They didn't even know why Nietzsche's actions had left them psychologically scarred.

"Yes, you should have been transferred to another school, but... this young lady volunteered to testify on your behalf."

A bolt of lightning seemed to strike Nietzsche's mind.

Of all the scenarios he had considered, he never imagined that Hermione, who always opposed him, would step up to be his witness.

In truth, Nietzsche had his own way of doing things at school, but Hermione, also a lover of books, often tried to stop him... telling him what he could and couldn't do.

Nietzsche had even given Hermione a nickname: "Miss Rule-Follower."

Naturally, Hermione wasn't one to back down. She secretly called him "Mr. Always Right."

"Hermione?" Nietzsche asked in disbelief, "Her?"

"Miss Granger mentioned that she, too, had been bullied by those three, so, after review, Mr. Holmes, your son will not be expelled... but! He must undergo a psychological evaluation."

The situation unfolded differently than Nietzsche expected. After leaving the office, he noticed Hermione running down the hallway.

He saw a couple emerge from around the corner, embracing Hermione. Mr. Granger nodded in Nietzsche's direction, tipping his hat respectfully.

Sherlock clapped his hands.

"To celebrate the fact that you didn't get expelled, how about we go out for dinner tonight? Quite surprising, isn't it? Your 'nemesis' at school ended up helping you."

"Not that surprising, considering Aunt Irene once helped you."

As they walked toward the school gate, Nietzsche suddenly heard Sherlock stifle a laugh.

Annoyed, Nietzsche said, "Aunt Irene liked you. My situation with her is different. You can call it a miracle of life! Living isn't just about rational thinking!"

"I didn't say anything... Royal Restaurant tonight?"

"Fine, but don't tell Watson!"

"Unless he figures it out."

...

Hermione got into the car with her parents, watching the scenery whiz by, feeling a bit happy inside.

"That boy is the friend who helped you last semester when those three brats were bullying you?"

"I don't agree with his methods. Fighting is wrong!" Hermione pouted, arguing righteously. "And I wasn't helping him, I just... I just..."

Mr. Granger exchanged a glance with his wife in the front seat, both breaking into silent smiles.

Their daughter hadn't been this confident in a long time.

Although she often bickered with that boy and would come home criticizing Nietzsche, at least she wasn't burying herself in books all the time.

Hermione wasn't much better than Nietzsche when it came to avoiding reality. She'd rather hide in the world of books than face the real world.

Mr. Granger gently continued, "You just think it wasn't worth it for him to do that?"

Hermione nodded and went on, "His methods were wrong, but at least he helped someone. Yet the person he helped turned against him. If I didn't help him, wouldn't that make me just like those people?!"

"Nietzsche is always like that, acting as if drunk, never caring whether his actions fit the school's rules."

Oh well, no matter.

Finally, she'd found something to hold over him.

Imagining a future where Nietzsche tried to lecture her with philosophical arguments, she'd counter with, "I'm your savior!"

Though it felt a bit cheeky, she knew it would work.

As she dangled her legs, lost in a daydream about one-upping Nietzsche, Mrs. Granger pulled a beautifully crafted envelope out of her bag, also bearing the name "Hogwarts."

The content was identical to Nietzsche's letter, except for the recipient's name.

"Hogwarts... School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?!"

Deep secrets stirred in her heart, and Hermione suddenly felt a wave of anxious uncertainty.