HP North Star's Radiance

Hermione quickly finished learning the Dazzling Spell and left in a hurry.

She needed to rush back to teach Harry so he could master the spell and escape Umbridge's persecution.

After seeing Hermione off, Prairie sat alone on the bench in astronomy class, watching the planetarium spin on its own.

Chapter 107 In the Name of the Father

The planetarium continued to spin on its own.

Looking out from the observatory of the Astronomical Tower, the moon was hidden behind the clouds, but a few stars shone brightly.

Praris stood up and walked out of the classroom.

She thought to herself that Mars seemed a little too bright tonight.

The outskirts of the village of Autri Saint Cachipol.

On an autumn night, the treetops are tinged with the reds and oranges of autumn. Withered leaves break free from the branches' grasp, fluttering back into Mother Earth's embrace.

The cool mountain breeze of the night blew on Mr. Diggory's sweat-dampened clothes, and even through his suit jacket, he couldn't help but shiver.

Amos Diggory had never felt so powerless as he did now.

“I think…I think this is just a small misunderstanding.” Mr. Diggory kept wiping the sweat from his brow. “Our Said had absolutely no intention of offending that gentleman in the slightest…”

Ah—ah—ah—

The mournful cries of crows echoed through the woods, like an ominous sign.

Mr. Diggory recalled that in some legends, crows were funeral processions.

His back was completely soaked with sweat, his hands were trembling, and his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of his throat.

In the past few months, he has given no fewer than ten interviews.

He told every reporter without hesitation, "Our Said saw nothing, but Porter is asking him to prove something."

Mr. Diggory disliked Harry Potter and even harbored some resentment towards him.

If Potter hadn't violated the rules by participating in the Triwizard Tournament, the Death Eaters wouldn't have rigged the match. If the Death Eaters hadn't rigged the match, Ced wouldn't have missed out on the servant of Mystic. If Ced hadn't missed out on the servant of Mystic, my wife and I wouldn't have had to live in fear.

That's what he thought, but he didn't want to publicly denigrate Harry Potter. He taught his son to be humble, honest, and kind; he himself hadn't lived up to those values, but Ced had taken them to heart.

Sed said to him, "Dad, it's not Harry's fault."

How could Mr. Diggory not know? But he still couldn't help but complain about Harry Potter.

What else? Is he going to blame the mysterious man? Blame the mysterious man for being resurrected?

The only saving grace is that Said genuinely didn't see it.

Diggory thought that was enough.

We, Said, were just passing by; what business is it of his?

Finally, after so many days of anxiety and fear, what was bound to happen finally came.

He was so naive, so incredibly naive, to actually believe that the Death Eaters would let them go.

He was not a wizard from a Muggle family, but rather an employee of the Department of Magical Creatures Control at the Ministry of Magic, yet the Death Eaters actually came looking for him.

Diggory completely forgot that Bertha Jorkins was also an employee of the Ministry of Magic, and she was still dead.

“Mr. Diggory…” Peter let out a short, sharp laugh. “How unfortunate that your son was unable to greet his master’s return.”

“But it’s alright, our kind master has given little Diggory a chance.” Peter suddenly sobbed, “Oh! Yes, what a kind master!”

“Sed?” Mr. Diggory shook his head violently. “No, no. I mean, my son Sed is too young; he doesn’t understand these things. But I can, I’ll do anything!”

"No, no, no!" Insect Tail took two steps back in terror. "How could a kind master torment a loving father?"

Peter patted Mr. Diggory on the shoulder, looking like he was concerned for him: "Words only count when spoken by the person involved, don't they, Mr. Diggory? As long as your son does well enough—a kind master is willing to give him a chance to join us and accomplish great things together!"

After saying this, Peter Pettigrew pretended to hold his hands and muttered to himself about how tolerant and generous his master was.

As for what exactly a great cause is?

These people offered no explanation whatsoever.

Mr. Diggory's face turned pale instantly. He lost control of his body for a moment, stumbled back several steps, and fell to the ground.

“No! No, no!” Mr. Diggory shook his head in alarm. “No, no.”

If Mr. Diggory doesn't give in to these Death Eaters, he'll never have a chance to leave this grove.

If he gives in to these Death Eaters, he is trading his son's future for his own survival!

His Cedric is healthy, kind, young, promising, and has a bright future ahead of him.

He was not yet eighteen years old, nor had he graduated from Hogwarts, yet he was about to fall into the clutches of the Death Eaters.

Before this, Mr. Diggory had never considered himself a particularly brave man. But he never imagined that making the decision to rebel against the Death Eaters and face death would only take a few seconds.

Mr. Diggory could not, and dared not, think any further. He knew that rebelling against the Death Eaters was tantamount to suicide—a man cannot choose suicide after careful consideration.

After careful consideration, one may find a hundred or a thousand reasons to live a life of ignominy, but deciding to die requires only a moment's courage.

Without hesitation, Mr. Diggory raised his hand, a flash of red and green light appeared, and he quickly brought it down heavily.

Mr. Diggory collapsed helplessly onto the thin layer of withered leaves, returning to the earth's embrace like these light, drifting leaves.

Peter stumbled back a few steps, muttering to himself, "This isn't my fault...this isn't my fault. Master gave you and your father a chance. Yes, it's your fault for being ungrateful and failing Master's expectations! It was so wrong, so utterly wrong..."

After saying that, the Death Eaters waved their wands and left the grove.

Mr. Diggory was left behind, lying crookedly on the ground.

When the wind blows, the bright red leaves scatter and flutter in the forest, just like a funeral that nature gives to this great father.

Hogwarts Castle.

Regarding the Blinding Spell, Hermione provided feedback on Harry's use of it.

According to her, "Harry seemed to have suddenly acquired the talent of a theatrical actor, acting like a tormented little wretch in front of Umbridge."

According to her, "But Harry strongly disagreed with that, saying it's called practice makes perfect."

“If you’ve ever met my aunt and uncle,” Hermione relayed Harry’s words, “then you’ll know how easy it is to express the humiliation of suppressing anger.”

Prarese tucked the letter inside the Daily Prophet, using the act of reading the newspaper as a cover.

“Being interested in this stuff—isn’t that a waste of your time?” Draco tossed himself into the long chair opposite him. “Can you find one or two truths in ten sentences?”

Praris replied without looking up, "That's even more interesting. Don't you think this is a kind of word detective game?"

Draco grunted and emptied some odds and ends from his leather shoulder bag: strange metal parts, sandpaper of various sizes and grits, files, and carving knives.

Pansy, who was passing by, nudged Daphne: "Look, family time."

"Huh?" Daphne exclaimed in surprise, "Where did this parent-child relationship come from?"

“When I was little, this was how it was in my family,” Pan Xi said in a teasing tone. “My dad would read the newspaper while I played with my toys alone across the street.”

Praliss was unaware that Pansy was "talking" about her and Draco again, but she was quite happy to see Draco fiddling with these gadgets across from her.

Draco always acts without talking in these situations, transforming from a beagle that starts fires everywhere into a Border Collie in a second—intelligent, able to entertain itself, and with a strong sense of self-management.

She actually called Draco a beagle?

As he thought about it, Praris couldn't help but laugh out loud.

Draco looked at him incredulously: "You can laugh out loud while reading the Daily Prophet?"

"Don't you find clumsy lies rather comical?" Praris said lightly, casually folding the newspaper.

Draco's eyes widened as if he had realized something: "So, you said that on purpose back then?"

"When did you mean?" Praris asked, confused.

Draco's surprise deepened: "And it wasn't just once?!"

"Draco, when did your reading comprehension become so good?" Praris shook his head and said with a sigh, "As the old saying goes, 'The disciple who teaches the disciple will ruin the master.'"

Draco looked angry and turned his head away in annoyance, as if he didn't want to talk to her.

Praris said helplessly, "Draco, I was wrong."

"Is that all?" Draco said sourly. "You and Burst have a falling out, and it takes you weeks to get over it!"

“What else can I do? I’ve never apologized to a boy before.” Praris tugged at Draco’s sleeve and said with a smile, “Professor Draco, if you don’t teach me, I really don’t know how to get your forgiveness.”

Draco broke down after only two or three minutes: "Are you serious? Who asks an angry person to teach you how to apologize? My dad would never say that to my mom."

"Hmm?" Praris rested her chin on her hands. "How should I put it?"

“Of course it’s ‘Cissy—’,” Draco answered instinctively, then quickly stopped, “Praris Prince!”

Praris couldn't help but laugh, and whispered in his ear, "Dodged a Muggle's plane, huh? That's impressive!"

Draco's face flushed red: "Y-you-you—"

"Draco, has anyone ever told you that you look adorable when you're angry?" Praris said cheerfully. "Let's go, it's about time for our Transfiguration class!"

After saying that, Prarese strode out of the common room, leaving Draco alone there, at a loss.

One of the most awkward things in the world is going on a date with a childhood friend. If you want to find something even more awkward, it's that this friend has a photographic memory.

Even though Draco had grown into a handsome and dashing prefect, Pralis would never forget his boastful past. Even if she had to reproduce it word for word, it wouldn't be a difficult task for her.

"What man likes being called cute!" Draco muttered to himself reluctantly. "Can't you say something nicer?"

He casually swept all the parts on the table into his bag.

He suddenly stopped what he was doing halfway through tidying up.

Draco had once discussed her boyfriend Jacob with his childhood friend Pansy.

Pansy remarked at the time, "Pry said that when a woman finds a man attractive, it's the beginning of her downfall. I think I've already been cast into the deepest abyss."

Draco stood there blankly for a while, and then a slight smile crept onto his lips.

Praliss was completely unaware of Draco's complex inner thoughts; she had already moved from the dungeon to the first floor.

“Sed, your father certainly wouldn’t want you to be like this.” A soft female voice rang out from the corner. “He loves you so much, he would want you to be alright.”

It was almost time for Slytherin's Transfiguration class, and Praris hurried forward, her thoughts racing.