HP North Star's Radiance

Hermione realized she had touched on an inappropriate and sensitive topic, and quickly changed the subject: "The training at DA is going very smoothly, and everyone is making rapid progress, especially Neville."

“Neville isn’t actually stupid,” Praris recalled of Neville’s past punishments. “He can do one thing well, as long as he has enough confidence.”

“That’s what I think too!” Praris truly understood her!

“Harry is progressing quickly too; Cedric has taught him some advanced magic. They often duel, and each wins sometimes,” Hermione whispered. “I wish you could come; I really want to see you and Harry—”

Hermione! Who are you talking to?

Ron’s voice came from Hermione’s side, and Prarese immediately flipped the mirror, tapped it with his wand, and then wrapped it in silk cloth.

Chapter 117 Nightmare

Hermione quickly flipped the bronze mirror over and stuffed it into her pocket.

"Who are you talking to?" Ron asked curiously as he walked in.

Hermione shrugged: "With my pen pal, we have a two-way mirror."

"Aren't you and Krum satisfied with just writing letters anymore?" Ron said accusingly, "You want to meet every day?"

Hermione said unhappily, "I don't think I have only one pen pal, Viktor. This bronze mirror was a gift from Talia."

“Talia?” Ron said. “You said last time that Talia was our friend—”

“Isn’t that right?” Hermione said.

Ron said, "But I've never even seen her—"

“I’ve seen her,” Hermione said. “Dumbledore believed her too. That means she has sufficient grounds to be trusted. Well, have you finished your homework?”

"You know I can't finish writing..."

On the other side of the bronze mirror, Praris called in Myrtle, who was keeping watch, and the two girls caught up.

Before this, Praris had never considered this possibility. Myrtle, this girl's life ended at the age of fourteen.

When Prarese met Myrtle, she was younger than Myrtle; now she is older than Myrtle.

This time, Myrtle didn't cry, which was unusual. She just talked about her relationship with Baron with a blissful expression.

Barron, also a Ravenclaw, is quite absent-minded and still can't find his way around Hogwarts even in his third year. He accidentally wanders into the girls' bathroom and is startled by Myrtle, thus beginning a poignant love story between a human and a ghost.

Well, based on Praris's understanding of Myrtle's mouth, this might just be a one-sided love affair between a human and a ghost, and Baron's own thoughts are not important.

However, perhaps Baron didn't object to this happening. Whether out of curiosity, pity, or something else, Myrtle said that Baron came to see her several times.

“In any case,” Praris said to Myrtle, “I’m happy for you, Myrtle, and I hope you’ll be happy.”

Love is more mysterious than death*, so even death cannot stop love from happening.

“I’m already dead, Praris. Baron and I have no future! So, being happy now is enough!” Myrtle chuckled wistfully. “It’s our tradition for Ravenclaw ghosts to fall in love with their students, and as for the future—at least I feel happy now, don’t I?”

A few days later, Harry returned from the DA gathering and went to bed early.

Everyone has people they know are meaningless, yet they can't help but care about them and things they can't help but do. For Harry, that person is Cho Chang.

Every time she came to the gathering, Cho Chang would greet everyone she met, always saying, "Good evening, Harry, have you eaten?"

Harry was a little flustered by this greeting for the first time, and he stammered, "Eat, I ate."

During the break, Cedric told him, "Harry, it's nothing. That's how Cho's grandmother always greeted people—Good morning, have you eaten? Good afternoon, have you eaten? Good evening, have you eaten?"

Cho Chang's greeting made Harry wonder what he had for dinner so he could answer her when he saw her: "Of course, the lamb stew was delicious, wasn't it?"

Harry knew it was pointless; it was just Cho Chang's polite greeting. Harry also knew that Cho Chang already had someone she liked.

When he forgets these things, he slows his pace as he walks past Qiu Zhang, hoping to hear a "Have you eaten?" When he remembers them, he lowers his head and runs quickly past them.

Christmas is coming soon, and Cho Chang bought some apples, giving one to Cedric, one to Marietta, and one to Harry.

Cho Chang said, "Harry, thank you for teaching us Defense Against the Dark Arts!"

Harry held the apple, bewildered.

Cedric said, "In the land of autumn, apples symbolize peace, and they call the eve of Christmas 'Silent Night,' so apples are eaten on Silent Night."

Qiu Zhang asked in surprise, "You understand?"

The pun on Qiu Zhang's hometown was a bit hard for the British to understand, and she didn't expect Cedric to understand it.

“I didn’t understand, but I remembered it,” Cedric said honestly. “Anyway, it’s a wonderful blessing, right?”

Cedric and Cho Chang exchanged a smile, as if they were happy about a secret known only to the two of them.

Harry placed the apple Cho Chang had given him on his bedside table, and its aroma filled his senses.

Harry thought Cedric's apple must be sour.

Harry thought again, maybe the apple he got was sour.

Harry vaguely thought that perhaps both apples were sweet, and only he was sour.

Harry started dreaming. He dreamed that Cho was kissing Cedric under the mistletoe and they were whispering sweet nothings to each other.

Autumn's maternal grandmother—a woman with Autumn's face and gray hair—claps her hands in blessing them.

In the blink of an eye, Cedric disappeared, and Cho Chang became Hermione.

Hermione recounted what she had told Harry during the day:

"Harry, this apple is just for gratitude, not love."

Harry said unhappily:

"Didn't I tell you already? I know!"

Hermione was gone, and Harry felt as if he'd been put into a Dursleys' washing machine and spun around in it. When he finally crawled out, he was transformed into a soft, smooth creature...

He glided forward, surrounded by purple and blue, with a red humanoid object on the ground—he inexplicably knew that it was a person.

The man woke up, and "he" had no choice but to bite the man several times. His body was cold, but the liquid flowing into his abdominal cavity was warm, even scalding.

Harry's forehead was throbbing with pain, but he heard a familiar voice in his dream.

bang bang bang-

bang bang bang-

Crackling sounds!

The pain in Harry's forehead vanished for a fleeting moment the instant something fell.

“Harry!” Ron stood at Harry’s bedside. “What’s wrong?”

Ron held the dreamcatcher in his hand, which had completely fallen apart.

"Your father was bitten by a snake!" Harry said, pale-faced. "I saw it—and my dreamcatcher broke too."

This night was destined to be chaotic. After Harry arrived at Number 12 Grimmauld Place using Dumbledore's Portkey, they waited a long time before receiving news that Arthur Weasley was still alive.

He told Sirius that he felt like there was a snake inside his body, but Sirius didn't believe him and told him to go to sleep.

He lay curled up in bed, with the broken dreamcatcher on the bedside table.

He dared not fall asleep. He knew that this time, the dreamcatcher would not make his headache disappear, not even for a moment.

Christmas is approaching, and schools are decorating with Christmas trees, mistletoe, and other items.

Prarese climbed the stairs floor by floor until she saw a curly-haired boy. The boy was carrying a thick book.

Praris glanced at it—"Magical Traumatology and Nursing".

"Do you want to be a therapist?" Prareas asked.

The curly-haired boy lowered his head shyly: "Are you Miss Prince, whom Miss Warren mentioned?"

Miss Warren?

This might be the only person at Hogwarts who would call Myrtle that.

“Yes, Barron, may I call you that?” Praris said. “If you need, I can recommend you to Madam Pomfrey. Hogwarts’ courses always keep her busy, and I don’t think she would refuse an ambitious assistant.”

Barron almost buried his head in his chest, and he whispered, “Thank you, thank you. Oh, by the way! Miss Warren and I thought about it for a long time—there’s a magnificent crown on the Ravenclaw portrait, with the motto of our house’s founder engraved on it. We thought that best represents Ravenclaw.”

"Of course, you don't need to thank me for this. Every Ravenclaw student knows this. If it's not just Miss Warren and me, it would be other Ravenclaw students as well."

Praris shook his head: "But I'm not Ravenclaw. How would I know about this if it weren't for you guys?"

The Christmas holidays have begun, and Draco has been hesitating for a long time about whether or not to go home.

He wanted to stay and spend Christmas with Praris, but he also wanted to go home and celebrate the holiday with his parents—mainly because he couldn't explain why he wasn't going home for Christmas.

"Does this mean we'll never see each other again?" Prarese put down her quill and said to Draco.

Draco's eyes widened: "What did you say?!"

Praris laughed and said, "You'll be back after Christmas, won't you?"

Draco looked at Praris with a mournful expression, accusing her of not caring at all whether he stayed with her or not.

But he still went home cowardly and gave Praris the Christmas present ahead of time.

Prarese has no academic worries; she doesn't even need to spend time preparing for OWLS—she could get most of the certifications by taking the NEWT exam now.

In truth, even Mrs. Pince might not know the contents of all the books in the Hogwarts library as well as she does. After all, she can search, flip through, summarize, and read aloud in her mind.

Her potion-making skills were recognized by both the market and experts, her spellcasting skills were recognized by Winnie, and she was also talented in divination, which relied purely on innate abilities. As for polymorphism, she simply hadn't had time to try it out on Animagus.

Magical history and Muggle studies can be solved with memorization. Herbalism has been somewhat neglected in the last two years, but her practical skills are on par with most people. Astronomy—needless to say.

Her only weakness is the course on protecting magical creatures, which she has only attended once... I don't know if she can pass the exam by relying solely on theory and improvisation.

In this situation, she would only ever say things like "I'm going to take the OWLS exam this year," creating a tense atmosphere in Slytherin.

In reality, she didn't take any actual steps to prepare for the exam; she was only focused on figuring out how to deal with Voldemort.

On Christmas Eve, Praris, as usual, strolled into the girls' restroom carrying a bottle of liquor.

"Don't try to bribe me with wine! I won't get any!" Myrtle said nervously. "Are you sure you want to do this? I shouldn't have said anything in front of you! She hates Slytherins!"

“She doesn’t hate Slytherins,” Prarees said. “She just hates the Bloody Barrow.”

“You’re right,” Mrs. Grey floated over and said calmly. “I don’t hate Slytherins.”

Ms. Grey didn't want to bring up her past, but Slytherin—Slytherin always had a silver tongue.