Chương 10: Chapter 10: I Am the Train King!
Self-study, after all, has its limits.
So Nietzsche ran to the Granger's house, thinking that now it wouldn't be considered self-study anymore.
"In Chapter 15 of *The Theory of Defense Against the Dark Arts*, there's a section on 'The Definition of Dark Magic.' This is the most boring book I've ever read. I really don't know how you can stand it," Hermione said, sitting in the living room, sipping tea while watching the yellowing leaves fall in the yard. On her lap was a book titled *Hogwarts: A History*.
"So now you're a pragmatist?" Nietzsche lazily replied, savoring the aroma of tea and the sweetness of honey spreading across his tongue, looking as relaxed as a cat. "Even though *The Theory of Defense Against the Dark Arts* is theoretical, it's still foundational."
However, this book by Wilbert Slinkhard was surprisingly unpopular in the wizarding community.
From the second chapter, *The Theory and Origins of Defensive Magic*, it's clear why. The book is too metaphysical, like a lighthouse floating in the sky—no wonder it's not well-liked.
But Nietzsche thought it was quite suitable for enriching the magical foundations of Muggle-born wizards.
"Anti-jinxes are just meant to make dark magic more acceptable... So all offensive spells are considered dark magic," Nietzsche said as he flipped to the chapter Hermione mentioned, starting to read the boring words.
In Chapter 15, the author even explicitly states that wizards shouldn't use offensive defensive spells.
"But some defensive spells are curses, jinxes, and hexes. What about your wand?" Hermione asked.
Unicorn hair, while stable, couldn't cast powerful spells that had dark magic qualities. This obvious flaw made such wands less powerful.
But Nietzsche wasn't as concerned as Hermione.
"That just means it won't work as smoothly for me. Don't forget about white magic and standard spells."
"No problem, my wand can handle those defensive spells," Hermione said proudly. "At worst, if someone bullies you, just come to me... After all, I'm a year older than you."
Nietzsche's eye twitched.
Damn it, when would school finally start? He couldn't stand Hermione's smug, peacock-like demeanor any longer.
Her competitive nature was even stronger than Nietzsche had imagined.
He crawled off the sofa, grabbed a handful of cookies, and stuffed them into Hermione's mouth.
"Not even food can shut you up."
At that moment, Mrs. Granger happened to enter the living room to call them for dinner, and she was surprised to see Hermione and Nietzsche wrestling on the sofa, grabbing each other's wrists.
"Although I didn't mean to interrupt you two... but..." she said to her daughter, "at least don't let your parents see it?"
Hermione: "Mom! It's Nietzsche's fault!"
Nietzsche: "It's Hermione's fault!"
The two glared at each other before turning away in frustration.
Days flew by as they chatted, and on the morning of September 1st, Nietzsche and Hermione arrived at King's Cross Station, desperately searching for Platform 9¾.
Like a headless chicken, Hermione dragged her luggage from one end of the station to the other but found no sign of Platform 9¾.
"Do you really think wizards would place the sign in plain sight where all the Muggles can see it?" Nietzsche asked, glancing around. "Each platform has four pillars..."
Suddenly, Hermione had a revelation: "So it must be the first pillar on Platform 9?"
"That's probably right."
But a new problem arose: how were they supposed to get in?
Nietzsche held a birdcage and stood alongside Hermione, both stumped as they stared at the four support pillars of Platform 9. After a while, Hermione even began doubting Nietzsche's deduction.
Luckily, help arrived.
"All Muggles around here..." a short, plump woman said to four redheaded boys, all of whom had owls. Behind them was a red-haired girl.
The word "Muggles" instantly caught their attention.
So the Granger family and the Watsons watched as the four boys pushed their luggage carts and ran straight toward the barrier between Platforms 9 and 10, disappearing into it.
Aha, they'd found it!
"Well then, I'm... going now?" Nietzsche turned toward the Watsons.
"Go ahead! Be careful!" Watson Sr. raised his eyebrows at Nietzsche's luggage and coughed deliberately. "If you need help, just open your magic box."
Compared to the Granger family, the parting was less emotional for the Watsons.
Mary and John Watson simply hoped that their son would behave and not cause any trouble on his first day at the new school.
Hermione looked back, then turned to face her parents.
She was far more anxious than Nietzsche. After all, for a twelve-year-old to leave the city and head off to a truly "unknown" world, it was a bit unfair to both the parents and the child.
"I'll be back for Christmas," Hermione reassured them.
Mrs. Granger, if it weren't for the fact that her daughter's magic could cause health issues, wouldn't have wanted Hermione out of her sight.
"Take care of yourself, and try not to make things too difficult with your classmates..."
While Mrs. Granger fussed over her daughter, Mr. Granger didn't say much.
After a brief hug, he pulled Nietzsche aside and quietly said, "You know... she's not great with people. So if anything happens, just write to me."
Mr. Granger knew his daughter's personality.
If she ever faced any grievances, she'd bottle it up inside.
While that's common in the adult world, as his daughter, she was allowed to have *one* small exception.
"Be a man and don't let a lady stand in front of you."
"That's more of a capitalist society thing, Watson. Don't forget the 'Case of the Vanishing Bride,'" Nietzsche replied in a gruff voice, mimicking Sherlock's mannerisms as he made faces at his father. "Besides, she's a year older than me."
Of course, he'd help her, though Hermione often disagreed with his methods.
But sometimes, acting first and explaining later was quite effective.
Under the watchful eyes of their parents, Nietzsche, carrying a birdcage in one hand and dragging luggage in the other, charged straight into Platform 9¾.
Contrary to his instincts, he felt no resistance. The space instantly expanded, and a deep red steam train stood at the platform, its sign reading:
**The Hogwarts Express.**
The station was noisy, filled not only with people in wizarding robes but also various kinds of pet cats running alongside the passengers as they boarded the train.
Before Nietzsche could take in the smoke-filled station, he felt a shove from behind.
"What's wrong?" Hermione wrinkled her nose and waved a hand in front of her face to disperse the thick steam.
Nietzsche said nothing. He concentrated, observing every face, every conversation, and every appearance, including Harry Potter, who was surrounded by a group of redheaded boys as they boarded the train.
He also noticed a boy with pale blond hair, who looked arrogantly at the people around him.
"Nothing, I'm just waiting for you," Nietzsche shook his head, shaking off the clutter of information in his mind.
In the rare sunlight of an English morning, the two of them boarded the train bound for the unknown.
Surprisingly, the train's interior wasn't as crowded as expected. Instead, it was quite spacious, with compartments lining both sides of the corridor. To find some quiet, Nietzsche and Hermione kept walking until a student stopped them.
He had short, neat hair, a tall, athletic build, and from the looks of it, Nietzsche guessed he was skilled in sports.
A badge with a "P" on a background of yellow and black was pinned to his chest.
"This is the Prefects' compartment. Only prefects and professors are allowed... Sorry."
"Alright, looks like we've reached the end."
Hermione chose a compartment toward the back of the train, which was relatively quiet for new students.
The train started moving, and the people on the platform began to fade into the distance. After rounding a bend, the station was no longer visible, and the noise in the other compartments gradually quieted down—though only in comparison to before.
To pass the time, Hermione pulled out *The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts* from her bag and began flipping through it.
"Did you know the Harry you helped out before is mentioned in several books?"
"If you're talking about *The Magical Events of the Twentieth Century*, which is as thick as a U.S. history textbook, then yes, I saw Harry Potter's name."
Nietzsche wasn't interested. He pulled out two bottles of cola and pointed his wand at them, muttering, "Immobulus." Frost immediately formed on the surface of the glass bottles, as if they'd just been taken out of a freezer.
Perfect!
This was the most ideal way to use spells!
The names of spells given by wizards weren't just literal—like the Freezing Charm. This spell could cool things down, but that was just a side effect.
It could paralyze animals, making them appear frozen.
Nietzsche lifted the cloth covering the birdcage and pointed his wand at the owl inside. Before Hermione could react, the owl they had co-purchased from Diagon Alley froze in place.
"What are you doing to my Mercury again?!"
Hermione had only looked away from Nietzsche for ten minutes, and something had already happened.
"It's ours," he said, watching the owl still frozen mid-flap, uncertain. "I was just testing how the freezing charm works on living things. It reminded me of the 'hibernation plan.'"
"Ever since we bought it from Diagon Alley, it's 'died' twelve times in two months!"
Hermione gritted her teeth, stood up, and grabbed the cage from Nietzsche, unfreezing the poor owl.
It was like someone had pressed play; the owl unfroze and continued its movement seamlessly, without any awkward transition between its frozen and active states.
"Why so serious?"
"Shut up, you're not the Joker, and I'm... not Batman."
Hermione ignored him, returning to her book, though this time she kept one hand firmly on the owl's cage beside her.
The carriage finally quieted down. Sunlight filtered through the window, casting a glow over the girl's brown hair. She softly mouthed the words from her book, biting her lip gently.
That scene—Nietzsche thought it seemed oddly familiar. Wait a minute...
Wasn't this just like Watson and Holmes at home?
Realizing that, Nietzsche cast a pitiful glance at Hermione. What a shame, she's turning into Watson.
"Sorry, have you seen my... toad?"
The compartment door was knocked on, then opened slightly. A round-faced boy peeked in, looking dejected. He paused for a moment when he saw Hermione tucking her curled hair behind her ear.
But when his eyes landed on the books the two were holding, his confusion deepened.
Wait a minute, those don't seem like books for first-years?
What's going on? Is Hogwarts really this intense now?
"No, we haven't."
Just as the boy was about to close the sliding door in disappointment, Nietzsche stood up.
Like Hermione, the thought of an unfamiliar magical school had made him uneasy. Even though he had memorized both the official and unofficial histories of the school, he still didn't feel secure.
But now, an opportunity had come knocking.
"If you don't mind, we can help you look for it," he said, quickly shifting from a casual attitude to one of warmth and humility.
"Thank you! My name's Neville Longbottom!"
Nietzsche turned to Hermione and winked. She immediately understood what he meant.
The Longbottom family was one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight. Nietzsche, who had been deprived of using their shared owl, Mercurius, now saw this as a chance to stretch his legs and look around a bit.
Hermione closed her book and put it away. "Well... you're right, this is a pretty good excuse."
Neville Longbottom: Did I miss something? Did they just communicate without speaking?
Attempting to connect to a shared brain... connection failed.
But having helpful people around was always a good thing.
Nietzsche draped his coat over his shoulders, grabbed a metal cane from the corner, and donned a felt hat as he hooked an arm around Neville and led him out. In a moment, he had taken control of the situation.
"Are you from a noble family?" Neville asked, shrinking back a little at Nietzsche's aura.
"No, I'm just an ordinary Muggle-born wizard."
"Whew, that's a relief... I thought you were from a family like the Malfoys."
"The Malfoys? Are there really wizarding nobles?"
Hermione squeezed in beside Nietzsche, putting her curiosity to full use—something she didn't even try to hide. This genuine curiosity gave Neville a bit more confidence.
Poor Neville Longbottom, who was now completely at the mercy of Hermione and Nietzsche.
He smiled and said:
"Of course. But most families like the Malfoys, who are all about pure-blood pride, tend to produce a lot of dark wizards... My gran says my parents were heroes who fought against families like that back in the day!"
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