HP North Star's Radiance

Marcus and Praris have both figured things out and have a chance of passing their exams.

Exams in the magical world are very strict; for written exams, they even provide quills to prevent cheating—as if cheating were actually useful.

Prarese didn't put in much effort for any of her exams, and almost none of the professors were dissatisfied with her.

“If you had a photographic memory, you could do it too,” Pansy said, a little unhappy.

A rat's tail trailed behind her snuff bottle, and Professor McGonagall frowned, her face full of displeasure.

Milison was quite pleased: "But Play's performance was also fantastic!"

The only thing that really got Pralis focused on was the flight exam. She was extremely nervous, and her mind was preoccupied with Professor Snape's requirements and Marcus's earnest advice.

Fortunately, when it was her turn, she forgot all of that, and her movements were all muscle memory, without any thought.

When she came down, Mrs. Hooch patted her on the shoulder: "You've made great progress."

Upon hearing this, Praris almost flew away. So this is what it feels like to achieve something difficult through hard work!

While Prarese was overjoyed, Harry was having a much harder time.

Ever since returning from the Forbidden Forest, he'd had a persistent headache. He kept telling himself it was because of the exams, but he knew that wasn't the case.

"Or maybe we should hang up the dreamcatcher," Harry thought.

Ron pressed down on the box to stop him: "You said that person only apologized to you because he did something against his conscience. How do you know he won't do it again this time? Instead of dreamcatchers, you should go see Ms. Pomfrey!"

Despite Ron's words, he couldn't stop Harry from hanging the dreamcatcher.

The dreamcatcher with feathers fluttered in the wind, as if it had actually filtered something.

The next day, Harry felt great when he woke up; he was finally not feeling so bad anymore.

He didn't know if it was just psychological or if it actually worked, but the dreamcatcher was left on Harry's bedside table anyway.

The exam is over, the weather is fantastic, and the cobalt blue sky is cloudless.

The Slytherins weren't exactly innocent children; Malfoy hid a bottle of mead under his robes, intending to offer them a drink.

Millison frowned: "It tastes both sweet and spicy."

Heaven knows how the Slytherins managed to bring a bunch of tiny silver cups, each no bigger than a thumb; Malfoy poured a little for each of them.

“We had an amazing party! Guess who wasn’t invited!” Daphne laughed.

Praris tilted his head: "Who?"

"Marcus!" The Slytherins burst into laughter.

Praris suddenly realized that Marcus really couldn't be brought to this kind of event. He would lecture them in a paternalistic tone: "Girls and boys, you're not old enough to drink!"

Crabbe mimicked in a strange voice, "You guys—you're not old enough to drink yet~"

Gore chimed in, "What?! I'm already seventeen!"

Malfoy sat on the tree root, laughing so hard he almost fell over.

However, the wine Malfoy chose was quite good; it wasn't too strong in alcohol or spiciness, but rather had a pronounced honey flavor. The Slytherin girls were very satisfied, while the boys were still wanting more.

In the UK, there are actually no strict age requirements for drinking alcohol; it's just that pubs don't sell alcohol to minors.

But just like not allowing preschool children to ride flying brooms, children still find ways to try, such as secretly riding their older siblings' brooms.

The exams were over, and Slytherin's scores were far ahead. Everything was so wonderful, even Marcus's exam went so smoothly.

But this unexpected smoothness made Praris somewhat uneasy.

"Can't you sleep, Prare?" Milison heard Prares tossing and turning in bed.

Pansy laughed and said, "Our genius is so excited about getting eight Os that he can't sleep."

Prarees retorted, "Can't I be so excited that I can't sleep because Slytherin is going to win the House Cup?"

Daphne suppressed a laugh in the darkness: "That's definitely something to celebrate."

“Neither,” Praris said, looking at the shadows left by the magical creatures swimming in the Black Lake. “Don’t you think things are going too smoothly? Has Slytherin ever had such a smooth year?”

"Isn't it good if things go smoothly? Do you prefer unexpected twists and turns?" Pansy rolled over. "We can't possibly wake up to find someone out at night and get a 150-point deduction, can we?"

Daphne and Millison couldn't help but burst out laughing.

No, Praris thought, perhaps it's because she's going back to the monastery.

Professor Snape asked her a few days ago to go back to the convent for the summer vacation, but Pralis immediately refused: "No, I will not go back to the convent under any circumstances!"

But he left without looking back, giving Praris no chance to persuade him.

His dark silhouette seemed to say, "I don't care what you think, you have to go back to the monastery anyway."

But what if she didn't go back to the convent? In any case, she couldn't wander around London alone. If she were discovered, she would be sent to a welfare institution, which was worse than the convent.

She preferred to go to the Leaky Cauldron, where she stayed before the start of the semester; those were the happiest times of her life outside of Hogwarts.

Thinking about these things, Praris gradually lost consciousness and drifted off to sleep.

The next morning, Praris woke up late, which was unusual for her. She didn't put her hair up, but just casually tied it into a low ponytail with a silk scarf, letting it hang down her left shoulder.

A year hadn't made her cheeks plump at all; she was still very thin, though a little taller, and her face still wore the same melancholy expression as before, as if she were always deep in thought.

As Praris pulled out his chair, ready to sit down, he noticed the lively atmosphere of Gryffindor across from him.

"Damn it," Pansy said, taking a vicious bite of her apple.

Praris spread the napkin on his lap and asked softly, "What's all this commotion about?"

Pansy was startled, not expecting Praris to ask her that question.

She looked around and, finding neither Milison nor Marcus present, became even more furious. She had only asked herself because no one else was asking!

"God knows, didn't they say we couldn't go to the right-hand corridor on the fourth floor when school started? Who knew the Philosopher's Stone was there! Now they're saying Potter protected the Philosopher's Stone?! He's not even as capable as you," Pansy said through gritted teeth.

For a moment, Praris wasn't sure if Pansy was praising her. However, she had a sudden realization. Ah, it was coming, Praris knew things wouldn't be that simple.

Speaking of which, I didn't expect that Potter to be so capable. Was it Granger who found information about Cerberus?

Naive Praris could never have imagined that it was the person who kept the three-headed dog who leaked the secret like a sieve.

In the common room, Malfoy was already throwing a tantrum, trying to steal the spotlight from Harry Potter.

"What do you think?" Malfoy suddenly turned around and asked her.

Praris was sitting by the window watching the giant octopus swimming around when he heard this and turned around: "What are you looking at? Potter?"

"if not?"

With her eyes half-closed, she asked, "What kind of person do you think Dumbledore is?"

Praris recalled the conversation he had with the portrait of Talia, and despite it being springtime, he felt an intense chill in his heart.

"What good things do you expect me to say?" Malfoy put his feet up on the table.

Chapter 19 Dignity Made of Paper

Prarese swore she didn't expect anything good to come out of Malfoy's dog mouth.

Dumbledore could easily detect even her slightest movement, and she couldn't believe how well Harry Potter's reckless "saving the Philosopher's Stone" operation could be concealed.

Everything at Hogwarts is under Dumbledore's control, and Harry Potter's little adventures are probably no exception.

“Prareth,” Gemma Farley patted her on the shoulder. “Professor Snape is looking for you.”

Praris... Praris doesn't want to go!

Snape was determined to send Prasris back to the convent, and for her to go there now would be like walking into a trap.

“Praris?” Farley looked at her in confusion. “What’s wrong?”

"It's okay, I'll go now."

Praris shook his head more this morning than he has this semester.

Standing in front of Snape's potions office, Prareus looked at the wooden door and for the first time felt a strong urge not to go in.

But this wasn't something she could avoid by simply not wanting to go in. Before Praris could even reach for the door, it opened by itself, startling her.

“Miss Prarese, is the bolt broken, preventing you from coming in? I suppose it's not that you don't want to see your professor?” Snape said coldly.

Snape flicked his cloak, turned and walked back to his desk, with Prareus following him into the room.

I don't know if other people overthink when they're nervous, but Praris does.

She never understood one thing: Professor Snape never called her by her last name. At first, he called Pralis "you," but later he called her "Miss Pralis."

However, when facing other people, although Snape would address them as "you," he never referred to them as "Miss Pansy" or "Miss Daphne," only as "Miss Parkinson" and "Miss Greengrass."

Millison thought she was overthinking it: "Perhaps the professor just doesn't like calling her Miss Prince? It sounds so much like 'Miss Prince,' doesn't it? I mean, Prince has connotations of prince or duke, doesn't it?"

"Miss Praris."

"What you wish for comes true," Professor Snape called her again.

Snape said in a deep voice, "You'll be good and go back to the monastery during the summer vacation, and won't cause me any trouble, right?"

Even during the day, with two candles lit, the potion office was dimly lit, with some special herbs emitting a faint blue-green glow.

For the first time, Praris felt incredibly brave as she told the most authoritative teacher in the entire school, "No, I will not go back."

She spoke with a lisp, her teeth chattering with nervousness.

“If you’re not out of your mind, you should remember you’re not even seventeen yet. If I understand correctly, you’re planning to run around and get spotted by the police and thrown into an orphanage, right?”

Snape spoke very quickly, like a hissing viper.

Prarese mustered her courage and, speaking hastily but clearly, said what she had prepared: "I can go to the Leaky Cauldron, just like before school started. I was doing just fine there, Tom took care of me, and I didn't cause you any trouble for the past two weeks, did I? Tom can testify that I didn't leave Diagon Alley at all, I hardly even went downstairs!"

Snape gave her a cold look: "Looks like I've been too lenient with you, making you think these things can be copied?"

“No!” Praris looked at him pleadingly, trying to evoke a little sympathy from him.

“Professor, I don’t know what I was like before I was five years old. But after I turned five, I had only one wish, which was to leave the Maria Monastery. When I washed clothes with my hands in cold water on winter nights, when I was punished by not being able to eat and could only lie in bed with my stomach bound.”

Prarese knew that no matter how reasonable her arrangement was, she wouldn't be able to convince Professor Snape that she didn't have to go back.

So she could only peel away the self-esteem she had barely managed to maintain over the past few months, exposing her humble and weak self in order to beg for a little sympathy.

“Professor, I often tell myself that the priest is right, that we shouldn’t eat too much, that hunger can keep us alert. But I know that’s just self-hypnosis. I really want to eat, I really want to eat, I hope I won’t go hungry. But I just can’t eat! It’s not that I don’t want to eat, but if I eat even a little more, I’ll throw it all up. Professor, I really don’t want to go back, I beg you.”