HP North Star's Radiance

The prefects of Gryffindor are Hermione and Ron, the prefects of Ravenclaw are Goldstein and Pettier, and the prefects of Hufflepuff are McMillan and Abbott.

When Praris and Draco entered, the others were already there, chatting in small groups.

When the two of them came in, everyone fell silent.

The student council president's remarks were nothing special; they were nothing more than the requirements for caring for and guiding new students, as well as promptly correcting and punishing violations by senior students.

As Draco emerged from the student council presidents' carriage, he strutted back and forth down the corridor like a child in new clothes.

Praris, unaccustomed to being the center of attention, lowered his head and hurriedly tried to escape Draco's show-off.

But while Draco was showing off, he didn't leave her out; he followed Praris wherever she went.

Merlin, Jesus, the Virgin Mary—anyone will do. Let's find something for this young master to do!

"Draco!" Crabbe and Goyle suddenly appeared out of nowhere.

Praris's eyes lit up instantly: "Ahem, you two are just in time. Draco, you two go ahead, I'm going back to Millie Pansy's."

Crabbe said in a simple and honest way, "Yeah, haha, we can go and see if Potter has made any mistakes."

“Prareth, it’s time you learned how to use your prefectural authority,” Draco said, stroking his pointed chin. “Let’s start now!”

Merlin, Jesus, Our Lady of Mary, please ignore my prayer and let this young master have some free time!

Prareas stood behind Draco, leaning against the wall, yawning as he watched Draco skillfully banter with Harry Potter.

This is no longer a matter of grudges or hatred. Long before he defeated Harry Potter at the Quidditch pitch, Draco unilaterally believed that he was better than Harry Potter.

Now, he's simply used to giving Potter a piece of his mind, just like praying in church; it's part of his daily routine.

After a verbal duel, Draco glared at Harry Potter, then arrogantly turned and left—taking Praris with him.

“Watch closely, just like this,” Draco declared confidently. “Let’s show Gryffindor what we’re made of!”

Praris clapped in agreement: "Great, great."

Draco put Praris back into their box with satisfaction.

Praris took the opportunity to encourage him and let him continue his inspection, while he slipped back to his private room to take a nap.

Neither Winnie nor Ms. Prie could come to see her off, and Heidi woke up in the afternoon, so Prarese had to get up earlier to hail a taxi herself.

The train was swaying and rocking, which made her a little sleepy.

When she woke up, the girls were all putting on their school uniforms. Millison woke her up by saying, "We're here!"

After they got off the train, Draco came over again and asked Crabbe to help her carry her suitcase.

“There’s no need for that.” Prareas couldn’t understand what he was doing today. She said calmly, “Draco, I think you need to calm down.”

She'd endured it all along, and now she finally couldn't take it anymore. People deeply in love are blind, but she wouldn't let emotions blind her forever. Between two people, there always has to be one who doesn't act impulsively, and she never expected that person to be Draco.

"Calm down?" Draco seemed a little angry. "Just because I made Crabbe carry a suitcase, Praris?"

“You know more than that.” Prares held out his hand to Crabbe, gesturing for him to return the box. “Draco, being a prefect means nothing. Getting complacent because of a little bit of power… that’s a path to power where you’re bound to stumble.”

Crabbe glanced at Draco, then at Praris.

Praris said coldly, "Crawb, what are you looking at him for? This is my box, don't I have the right to decide?"

“Give it to her!” Draco said sarcastically. “After all, our Miss Praris is a prefect, isn’t she?”

Praris took the box with both hands, turned to Draco and said, "I'm leaving now, see you in the Great Hall."

After saying that, Praris walked quickly toward the carriage.

"Praris!" Draco called to her from behind.

Praris frowned and turned around, only to see Draco sneer: "Look, this is what the prefects represent. Hey, don't mind giving us the carriage, right? After all—there are only two of you, unless your butts are big enough to fill the whole carriage, then it's understandable."

"You...what did you say!" One of the two younger Gryffindor girls, who was being questioned, said angrily, "Why should I!"

“Because I’m the prefect,” Draco said with a sneer. “If you don’t want to—”

Prarese laughed, a laugh of anger. She turned and left, not giving Draco a chance to continue his performance.

She casually boarded a carriage, which already contained three people.

They all frowned when they saw the Slytherin prefect's badge on her wizard robes.

Praris didn't mind and closed his eyes to wait for the carriage to reach the oak gate.

The foyer and auditorium were bustling with activity, the glow of magic candles illuminating the students' excited faces.

Praris glanced at the faculty desks. Rubeus Hagrid's seat had been taken by Grapple, and a somewhat cloying-looking witch sat next to Dumbledore.

Grapland substituted for Hagrid's class when Hagrid was suspended due to reports of his giant lineage.

Hagrid remained a loyal follower of Dumbledore from beginning to end. Therefore, as a rare point of entry, Hagrid's position became the battlefield in which Dumbledore and his political enemies clashed.

Hagrid has been replaced as a teacher, and Dumbledore himself has been expelled from the International Confederation of Wizards. It seems the headmaster is currently at a disadvantage.

As for that witch—

Outward appearance is a silent attitude and expression.

At the formal opening ceremony, she incongruously wore a bright pink dress and large pink bow jewelry that was disproportionate to her age. She was very confident, had a strong desire to perform, and liked to show herself off.

Just as Lupin's wizarding robes revealed his embarrassment and helplessness, Lockhart's attire showed his satisfaction with his appearance. This witch's clothing indicated that she had no intention of fitting into the Hogwarts faculty and was even proud of being different from others.

Grapland is the professor of the Magical Creatures Protection class, and this one—the Pink Witch—is the professor of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

She wasn't one of Dumbledore's people, Prarese quickly realized.

Thinking about all this was just a matter of glancing at her. She found Milison and the others' seats and sat down in the ones the girls had reserved for them.

"You didn't come with Draco?" Pansy asked curiously.

Prarese said calmly, "He hasn't had his fill of being a prefect yet, so I had to give him the space to play."

"Hiss—" Pan Xi grinned.

Prarese shrugged: "Miss Parkinson, sometimes you should take my side."

"Don't worry, I've never held back when it comes to his words," Pansy laughed heartily.

Draco finally came in and took a seat at the end of the line, facing Praris across the distance.

It seems he's still holding back his anger.

Finally, Professor McGonagall led everyone in. The first-year students lined up between the long table and the faculty seating area, watching Professor McGonagall nervously.

Chapter 101 Class Leader

As usual, the Sorting Hat split open at the brim, and the split turned into a mouth that began to sing loudly.

The Sorting Hat has a new song this year, with lyrics that mention words related to impending crisis and internal unity.

“Unity?” Milison sneered. “Who’s going to unite with whom? Even Gryffindor didn’t really trust Harry Potter much.”

Praris shrugged. "Anyway, it wasn't something they were saying to us, was it?"

“I think the people here who believe Potter the most, besides Diggory, are us Slytherins,” Pansy chuckled. “Oh, poor little Potter, he’ll probably be so touched he’ll hide in his godfather’s arms and cry.”

Only those who wronged you know how wronged you are, and only Slytherin knows best that Voldemort has truly been resurrected.

After the Sorting Ceremony ended, before Dumbledore could finish introducing the changes of the year, the pink-haired witch impatiently interrupted him, launching into a long, rambling monologue about trivial matters.

"The highest directive from the Ministry of Magic emphasizes that the education of young wizards is a crucial task, related to the future development of the British wizarding world. Education is a noble undertaking, and young wizards possess innate and precious talents waiting to be discovered by educators. What we are engaged in is not only a job, but also an art, a noble art. In the field of education, professional and meticulous guidance is key..."

"English can be arranged and combined like this?" Praris said in surprise. "My knowledge is still too shallow."

While Dumbledore still had a chance to speak, he introduced the witch by her name: Dolores Umbridge.

Not long ago, the charming and shrewd Miss Stella bid her farewell with great fanfare.

If life is a train puzzle, then Umbridge is a clattering pink train. Perhaps some might think that Umbridge will either crash into the upperclassmen of the Ministry of Magic or into the girls of Hogwarts.

No, no, no, that's too naive. She wants both—first the Ministry of Magic, then Hogwarts.

Her speech was like a long, tedious report from the Ministry of Magic. The students were so bored that they started whispering and tracing the grain of the wood on the dining table with their fingers.

Pan Xi commented in a way that was utterly scathing: "It's like pumpkin soup diluted ten times with water—thin, tasteless, and it looks just like it—"

"We just finished eating!" Milison said in a panic.

Daphne laughed so hard she almost choked: "Oh, Panpan, this is quite a conversation."

After what seemed like an eternity longer than Professor Binns's ghostly performance, Umbridge finally ended her passionate solo speech, receiving applause that was thinner than the hair of a middle-aged British man, a stark contrast to her usual demeanor.

In fact, most people didn't realize Umbridge's speech was over. It wasn't until the applause from his classmates reminded them that it was time to clap that Dumbledore stood up and spoke again.

It's hard to say he didn't do it on purpose.

In short, the worst opening ceremony in recent years ended in a far from satisfactory manner.

Draco had a sour look on his face, as if someone owed him hundreds of Galleons. He glared at him with his squinty eyes and said unhappily, "Freshman, come with me—are you coming or not?"

The first-year students looked bewildered, and it took them a while to realize that the prefect's last sentence wasn't directed at them.

Prarese announced loudly, "First-year students, please follow Prefect Malfoy."

Draco walked in front, and Prareas walked at the very back.

Praris answered the freshmen's questions to her in a measured manner: "Yes, the prefect is Draco Malfoy... My name is Praris Prince... We're almost there, our dorm is underground."

“Greatness,” Draco said arrogantly as he opened the stone door to the common room. “The password is written on the notice board in the common room and is changed every two weeks. I suppose none of you want to be locked out, so use your brains.”

The two people each led the boy and girl to their respective dormitories.

Having completed his mission, Praris sat back down on the sofa in the common room, still wearing his pajamas and wrapped in a shawl.

Actually, this shawl was a gift Pansy gave her when she was in first grade. Back then, their relationship wasn't nearly as good as it is now.

Time is like a March hare, rushing forward madly, turning the relationships between people into something unrecognizable.

Praris raised her wand and lit the scented candle placed in front of her. It was a very ordinary scented candle, the wick was crooked, and too much essential oil was used; when lit, it looked like a small brazier.

“I clearly had one that I did perfectly,” Draco said sullenly.

He emerged from the shadows, the candlelight illuminating his pale eyes.

Praris said to the "little fire pit": "Perfect things are always boring, while imperfections seem special."

"All I see is that it's uglier in a unique way," Draco scoffed.