HP North Star's Radiance

“Hiss—isn’t there a better way!” Malfoy exclaimed.

Praris said sincerely, “You have no wounds, only bruises. They will heal completely in no time. I believe Mrs. Pomfrey will heal you.”

Farley completely disregarded their injuries, feeling only humiliation: "The three of you! You can't beat Weasley and Longbottom!"

“Well, Draco is too skinny; he has no advantage in hand-to-hand combat. If they were to fight with magic, Draco would definitely win,” Pansy said, racking her brains to speak up for Malfoy.

Pansy meant to speak well of Draco, but it sounded too much like she was talking about why they lost to Draco.

“Children!” Mrs. Pomfrey entered. “His injury is nothing serious; his companions protected him well. I think you don’t need to disturb his rest here. Go back.”

Gemma led the girls outside, and Pansy muttered as they walked, "Despicable Gryffindors..."

Gemma shook her head and walked in front of Praris: "I think Marcus is right. I should have stood up from the beginning. At least we wouldn't have been the ones who suffered."

Praris patted her on the shoulder: "Farley, I don't think so. You and Marcus are different. Marcus goes up to help beat people up, but you'll only get beaten up. Since you're different, the way things are handled won't be the same. Slytherin needs both the strong and responsible Marcus to lead the charge and the clever and tactful you to stand behind."

Prareas thought that this was why Professor Snape had chosen Farley and Marcus.

In the second half of the semester, the weather gradually warmed up, and the teachers began to get busy.

Ms. Sprout bought some new seeds in the winter and put them in the glass greenhouse to grow. Some seeds survived the cold winter and sprouted and climbed the branches in the warm spring.

“Little Pluton, we need to classify our breeds first, find those that can survive the winter, and breed them before winter. Those that cannot survive the winter should be bred after the snow melts,” Sprout rambled on. “We need to make sure to keep the winter-breeding ones warm, otherwise they will freeze to death.”

“There are so many different herbs,” Praris remarked. “Because they have the potential to survive the winter, they have to endure its cold. If they didn’t have that quality, they would probably only need to enjoy the warmth of spring.”

Ms. Sprout paused, turned to Praris, and smiled gently: "Little Praris, some herbs can survive the winter, so they can live in harsher environments. But not all herbs can live in a glass greenhouse; in the wild, these resilient herbs are the ones that survive the most."

Praris shook his head: "The more you have, the more you give to what you already have; the more you lose, the more you take away what you already possess. But in reality, aren't they just flowers in a glass greenhouse? Those who can endure more will only encounter more and more difficulties waiting for them to overcome, while some people only need to live happily ever after. This world is inherently unfair."

“No, some herbs that can survive the winter will lose their resilience and become as strong as their counterparts if they don’t endure the winter’s trials. Glass greenhouses are rare; most are found in the freezing wilderness,” Ms. Sprout said slowly, as if trying to make herself clear.

Ms. Sprout continued, “Little Pry, we will never glorify suffering. If possible, I wish everyone could be happy. But we should know that some suffering has already happened, and some suffering is unavoidable. If we keep running away and are unwilling to face it, then when we encounter things that are unavoidable, we will lose the strength and courage to fight them.”

Praris blinked: "I think I understand. If there is the power to overcome everything, no matter what you encounter, you can face it and defeat it. No matter what disasters you encounter in the future, you can always stand up again afterward."

Ms. Sprout put down the kettle, opened her arms and hugged her: "Whatever happens, you can tell me if you'd like. I don't mind being your confidante."

“Ms. Sprout, what kind of person do you think I am?” Prarese asked softly.

Ms. Sprout said solemnly, "I am very happy to have you as a student."

Praris paused for a moment, then covered his face with his hands and laughed out loud: "I'm also happy that you're my teacher."

“I thought you would mind that I’m a Slytherin,” Praris said lightly, as if she had no idea how serious she was talking about.

Ms. Sprout shook her head: “No, every student here is a Hogwarts student. And I am the Hogwarts Professor of Herbalism.”

Ah, Hogwarts, what a magical place.

Her two closest teachers were the most egalitarian Mrs. Sprout, who showed no favoritism towards Hufflepuff; and the most unfair Professor Snape, who would always give Slytherin a wide berth, even when he was in the wrong.

Praders enjoyed Professor Snape's unreasonable favoritism because she was a Slytherin. Praders also enjoyed Ms. Sprout's gentle equality, again because she was a Slytherin.

That's human nature; Praris is just a vulgar person.

Praris left, but a white figure stood in her place.

“She is indeed a bright child, isn’t she? We don’t even need to find something to teach her; she can figure it out herself. But excessive wisdom can sometimes be cruel,” Dumbledore said, adjusting his glasses.

Sprout watched Praris's retreating figure: "That's what she thinks, isn't it? Sometimes she can't help but complain about her cruel fate, but she still has a kind and strong heart. Will Severus tell her the truth?"

“Pomona, she doesn’t need anyone to tell her, she’ll find out for herself,” Dumbledore blinked his left eye, “it’s just that she doesn’t want to explore any further right now.”

Praris had already run back to the castle, where she cast a cleansing spell on herself at the castle gate to remove the mud and grime from her body.

"Hey, where have you been!" Draco Malfoy leaned against the wall. "I've discovered an interesting secret that you'd never guess."

Praris raised an eyebrow and looked him up and down. The damp mud on his shoes—he'd gone outside? The glass conservatory could be ruled out. The lawn? The Forbidden Forest? The hunting grounds? The Quidditch pitch?

Judging from his silly grin, it must be something secretive but that he's very interested in—either related to Gryffindor, Quidditch, or both.

The lawn is an open area with no secrets.

Related to Quidditch? That's the Quidditch pitch, but he didn't bring a broom. That's related to Gryffindor, something that happened in the Forbidden Forest or the hunting grounds.

Praris was unsure: "What have Potter and the others done this time?"

“You know everything! Talking to you is so boring!” Malfoy sighed, then suddenly perked up. “I saw that half-giant raising a dragon egg; I think it must be a fire-breathing dragon. Potter and the others know too; they protected that half-giant. He’s broken the law! We can get him sentenced. Apparently, he was expelled from Hogwarts before, so now he can be ‘expelled’ again in court!”

“A dragon egg?!” Praris was genuinely shocked. “Do you know the author of that book about protecting magical creatures? He did an experiment with a groundhog, which threatened the lives of his classmates, so he got expelled. Has Hagrid gone mad? He’s raising a dragon at school; does he want to roast us all alive?”

Malfoy laughed heartily: "He gave me a good suggestion. It would be best if he could hatch that fire dragon and find a way to let it burn one of my classmates."

Praris shook his head: "You're crazy too. How long has your injury healed? What if you were the one who got burned? Wait a bit, young fire dragons grow very fast. Once they hatch, given their size, they won't be able to hide for long. And if it really is a fire dragon, it might be able to burn down that cabin without you having to do anything."

“I’ve come to the right person, Prince,” Malfoy clenched his fist. “You’re right. I’m waiting for Potter and his gang to get burned. Then all I have to do is report them, and the problem will be solved.”

Chapter 15 The Fate of the Sparrow

Prarese shook her head inwardly; she had a feeling that Malfoy wouldn't succeed this time either.

Has this guy ever succeeded even once? Praris couldn't help but ponder, starting to doubt her own memory.

Unlike Prarees' skeptical attitude, Malfoy looked smug, as if he could kick Harry Potter out of Hogwarts at any moment.

“Then I can only wish you good luck,” Praris shook his head. “I should go see Professor Snape.”

In fact, Professor Snape was not in his office; he left a note instructing Prarese on what to do.

"Oh, Professor Snape, are you there?"

Praris, who was simmering ginger over a low flame, looked up in confusion.

During the transition from winter to spring, many young wizards are prone to catching colds. By roasting ginger wrapped in herbs over a fire until the surface is charred, then slicing it and using it to make potions, a potion called "Humchi Cold Remedy" can be created.

The downside is that after drinking the potion, your nose will puff out like the Hogwarts Express. After that, your nose will be clear, and your cold will get better faster. The bigger downside is that simmering ginger is a real hassle. Praris has already spent several hours here.

Fortunately, Professor Snape's office contained not only potions, but also some books that he himself read.

What's really interesting is that these books aren't potion textbooks like "A Thousand Magical Herbs and Mushrooms," but rather books that Muggles would read, such as Shakespeare's "Hamlet."

"The life and death of a sparrow are predetermined by fate. If it is destined to happen today, it will not happen tomorrow; if it is not tomorrow, it will happen today."

Prareas saw that Professor Snape had drawn a line here. He didn't seem like someone who believed in fate, Prareas thought, but he seemed to resonate with the statement.

Prarese closed Hamlet and put it back in its place.

The books a person reads reflect their inner world. But Professor Snape's books are far removed from him. He was the most anti-Muggle head of the House, yet he read the works of Muggle playwrights; he seemed to have no belief in fate, yet he underlined that sentence.

Just as Prareas was staring blankly at the ginger, there was a sudden knock on the office door, and a timid voice rang out: "Professor Snape, are you there?"

Uh, that's a good question. Professor Snape is definitely not here, but should she be?

After hesitating for a moment, Praris stood up and opened the door.

“Professor Quirrell?” Prarese still had some respect for his teacher, thanks to Sprout and Snape. “Professor Snape is out. What brings you here?”

"Isn't he here? Oh, I'm so sorry, if he's not here, I'll have to go now," Quirrell said in a fluster.

Prareas blinked. "You could leave a note for Professor Snape. What do you need him for? Oh, Professor Quirrell!"

Praris watched as Professor Quirrell hurriedly ran off, as if some ferocious Cerberus was chasing him.

Oh, right, Praris's photographic memory and super-fast reading ability did come in handy.

She quickly found information about Cerberus, which is easily captivated by music and can fall asleep to its sound. This magizoologist also believed that Cerberus might be a descendant of Charond, the god of death on the River Sanzu, who slept to the music of Orpheus.

But that didn't matter. Prarese watched Professor Quirrell's hurried departure, silently took a step back, and closed the door. She opened a drawer, pulled out a piece of paper, and wrote down the incident and Professor Quirrell's reaction.

Prarese's intuition told her that Professor Quirrell's reaction was not normal, and she couldn't find the reason for it right away, but she believed that this information would be useful to Professor Snape.

As night fell, Professor Snape returned, and in the warm yellow light of Hogwarts, he looked like a bat with outstretched wings.

He took the note from Praris, glanced at it, and smirked: "Miss, you waste too much energy on unnecessary things. It's a common problem for people like you; you always think you can do everything, so you want to do everything."

Prarese thought it would help him, and so she did it. She didn't expect praise, but at least she didn't expect criticism.

Praris couldn't help but lower his head, his ears burning.

“You are a student, Miss Prass. Perhaps you crave recognition or other honors, which is understandable,” Snape said, his voice sharp as a venomous snake, even when speaking to Slytherin’s finest student. “But I do not wish for you to become a reckless, vain student like Potter or Granger. After all, you should know that from the very beginning, you have been completely different from them.”

Prareas walked alone back to the Slytherin common room, his mind replaying Professor Snape's words.

Indeed, what he said was absolutely right.

More than six months of smooth sailing had clouded her judgment, making her feel complacent and elated.

Is there any student with a photographic memory like her?

Is there any student as knowledgeable as her?

Which student could glean such keen insight into someone's past from the smallest clues as she could?

Yes, none of them.

But similarly, who else is as alone and without family as she is?

Who else is suspected of having a murderer mother like her?

Who else is a half-blood in Slytherin like her?

Yes and no.

Her past was filth and poverty; her present is extraordinary talent. If she were to completely forget her sorrowful past and immerse herself in her glorious present, sooner or later she would be consumed by her own arrogance.

The next day, Prarese returned to Snape's office as if nothing had happened, but this time, she was completely focused on the things in her hands, as if they were rare treasures.

------

Malfoy plopped down next to Praris, turned to face her, and whispered, "Where have you been again?"

Praris glanced at him sideways and said with a hint of sarcasm, "It seems I should report my whereabouts to you so that I can give you advice whenever I want, is that right?"

"It seems you can be quick-witted sometimes, like this," Malfoy said, completely oblivious to her meaning. "I suppose you know something about the Norwegian Spinosaurus, don't you?"

"Looks like I'm pretty much a library in your eyes, the kind with automatic search functionality," Praris rolled her eyes. "Is it because of Potter?"

“I knew this wouldn’t be difficult,” Malfoy snapped his fingers.

Praris glared at him: "They're playing with fire, in a physical sense. This thing can learn to breathe fire in a week, and at three months old, one breath of fire can burn a person to a crisp."

She gestured: "They can grow this big in a week, and they're poisonous. One bite can make your hand swell up like a black pudding."

Black pudding is a type of British blood sausage, and as its name suggests, it is jet black and has a slightly fishy taste.