HP North Star's Radiance

“Hmm.” Praris began cutting some kind of vine-like herb. “As long as your heart is clear, you can overcome any mountain of sadness, can’t you?”

“Ron and Lavender were kissing in the common room,” Hermione said, her voice trembling. “To be honest, it makes me a little uncomfortable—I promised to spend time with Viktor!”

“I already have Viktor in my belly, how can I look at Ron in the bakery window? It would make me seem promiscuous... I’m not that kind of person.”

“And then?” Praris asked. “You don’t seem troubled anymore.”

“Yes,” Hermione said firmly. “You once told me that what you think and what you do are two different things. Feelings can’t be controlled, but actions can be—I’ve already made my choice, haven’t I? I shouldn’t hesitate in my actions.”

“Over the past five years, I may have developed special feelings for Ron, but we have each made our own choices—I wish him well and hope that he and Lavender can be happy.”

What you think and what you do are two different things.

These are some of the insights Prarese gained from reflecting on her actions during her first and second years. This understanding prevents her from feeling guilty about her inner thoughts.

Human emotions are complex. One may hesitate in one's heart, but there is no excuse for actions; once done, they are done.

Prader and Hermione are both intelligent people, and intelligent people are often the most easily trapped by their own thoughts. Fortunately, they found each other as true friends in the vast sea of ​​people.

Finally, Hermione told Praris about Draco's absence from the competition and Harry's speculation.

“Don’t be sad. I don’t think it’s true. Maybe he’s doing something else,” Hermione said hesitantly. “Someone like Draco… I mean, Death Eaters only want adults, right?”

Hermione swallowed the words that were about to come out: "How could someone as cowardly as Draco do such a thing?"

This is even harder than convincing her that the bully at the Muggle elementary school is a murderer!

Praris blinked and said slowly, "Really?"

When she last went to hand in her latest potion-making results, Professor Snape unusually asked her about Draco.

"I think you know what he's doing."

Snape stared intently at her face, as if hoping to glean something from her expression.

But that didn't help.

Unless he personally uses Legilimency on Praris—which might not even be successful.

Simply resisting without considering the possibility of being discovered is enough to confuse most people with the labyrinth of Prarese's thinking.

“I don’t know, sir,” Praris said calmly. “We’ve fallen out, like the Headless Horseman and his heads. Don’t you want to take a look at this?”

Prareas had thought about this question, and it was absurd, but it was the only answer: Voldemort wanted Draco to kill Dumbledore.

They stood on opposite banks of the river. On her side, she was doing everything in her power to save Dumbledore, while on his side, he was plotting and scheming to kill him.

People are always hypocritical.

As outsiders, it's effortless to be clear-headed. Philosophical pronouncements are mass-produced like rumors in the Daily Prophet.

But when it happens to you...

Praris began to have some silly thoughts: "Why don't the underground classrooms have windows?"

She couldn't even stare blankly into the distance, letting her soul wander.

"Pry! We lost!" Millison stormed open the classroom door, fuming. "I have no idea what Ron Weasley was thinking!"

Praris, without changing his expression, snapped the two-way mirror shut, disconnected the communication, and looked at Milison.

Milison barged in like a raging calf, pulled up a chair and sat down, even preparing to put his feet up on the table.

Praris quickly slapped her leg: "My table!"

She's going to do experiments on this!

After a smooth combo, Praris finally remembered what Milison had said.

She said meaningfully, "Isn't that because you took fake medicine?"

Even though she had done similar things, it didn't stop her from mocking Gryffindor. After all, this was the potential school spirit of recent generations of Slytherins.

"Draco is really..." Milison grumbled, "Is it really necessary? He even took leave from training and matches!"

As for?

As for.

Inside the House of Requests, Draco knelt on one knee in front of a dilapidated cabinet.

Beside him were a toolbox and an opened bottle of red wine. Inside the toolbox, besides a pile of magical items and tools, was an ornate box inlaid with jewels.

Draco lowered his head, looking at the jewel box with a mocking expression.

He thought, "What's the use of you being so extravagant, glamorous, and unique? You'll still be cruelly abandoned."

cruel……

Yes, in just over six months, Draco's world suddenly turned upside down, revealing a hideous face that he could not comprehend—or perhaps, this was the true face of the world.

The Dark Lord's resurgence did not bring glory to the family. The Death Eaters looked down on him, a mere child who hadn't even grown up yet, and even his aunt believed that the failure of the Department of Mysteries should be blamed on his father...

How hilarious!

Of course! My father is still in jail, so he can't speak up for me like so many mouths outside—he's just left to everyone's judgment!

A few months ago, he was given a seemingly important but cruel mission as punishment for his father's failure.

Doesn't he know this is cruel?

Didn't he know that this was the Dark Lord's punishment for his family?

Can he still be as naive and self-righteous as before?

Pralis understands Draco as well as Draco understands Pralis. This doesn't mean they are omniscient, but rather that they easily understand each other's feelings and emotions.

Children always learn about love and glimpse its form from their parents.

Draco thought, she knows I'm not feeling well, she cares about me so much—it must be love, just like a mother sheds tears for her father's imprisonment.

When Draco learned of Praris's distress, his heart nearly broke. He thought, "Was my father in Azkaban worrying about them just as much? Was he also frantically anxious for them inside?"

Draco had never hidden anything from Praris before. He was transparent, easy to understand, like a spoiled child, a little rascal who did whatever he wanted.

Draco, who has never learned to hide himself, makes all his attempts at concealment so clumsy, like a silly child hiding behind a curtain with his feet sticking out during a game of hide-and-seek.

Draco finally realized that he couldn't continue like this in front of Praris; he couldn't bear to see Praris suffer because of him anymore.

If the father hadn't involved the mother in the Death Eaters' activities, if he hadn't granted her request to the Dark Lord and resolved to complete this cruel mission himself... then he shouldn't have dragged Praris into this mess.

Ultimately, this is a bloody mission that he must complete alone. How could he drag those who love him down with him and make them suffer and shed tears with him?

Cruelty and kindness coexist equally in this world. In the past, he felt the boundless love given to him by his parents and the world's infinite tolerance and kindness towards him.

Now, all the kindness he possessed had been replaced by cruelty. And he was forced to raise the cruel dagger against Dumbledore, against the innocent Katie Bell, and... against himself.

Perhaps only by being more cruel than fate can one overcome cruel fate.

Narcissa no longer stops her son from loving whomever he wants; she just hopes Draco can feel a little better. But Draco has to find a way to push away the girl who once made his heart pound.

Draco raised the cruel dagger of fate and sliced ​​himself in two. One half was the carefree, happy self of the past, enjoying Pralis's love. The other half was the solitary, obsessive self of the present, burdened with a bloody mission.

He now convinces himself that all of this is a glorious, proud, and necessary mission.

Draco thought he could completely separate the two, just as he had easily hidden his thoughts when he learned Occlumency from his aunt during the summer.

But no... no.

How ridiculous! Just like the Gryffindor ghost's head that's about to fall off, his past self and his present self are inextricably linked.

He was ready to commit murder, yet he was both afraid of failing and afraid of succeeding. He pushed Prarese away, relieved that he hadn't implicated her, yet he still secretly watched her out of the corner of his eye during class.

"Love can break into any cage in the world."

Draco remembered that this was a book Prareas had once read. Back then, he sat opposite Prareas carving ancient runes, disapproving of her preference for Muggle books.

Now, Draco thought that his family, inside and outside Azkaban, had never really been separated.

Now, Draco thought that the reason he and his past self were still entangled was probably because of love.

Speaking of which...

Draco slumped to the ground, completely losing his composure, and began guzzling wine down his throat like a cow chewing on a peony.

A thought bubbled up in his mind like a firefly: "Was he drinking wine or blood?"

Draco shook off the thought and continued thinking.

To be honest, he was shocked when he learned that Praris was of mixed race. His heart was filled with mixed feelings, a mixture of doubt, disbelief, and anger at being deceived.

But when he thought about it carefully, everything made sense. Praris had never hidden anything from him, nor had she ever said that she was a pureblood.

In first grade, when Prarese tied him to the sofa, he read to him... the Muggle play "A Midsummer Night's Dream".

Chapter 157 Christmas Dinner

however!

however!

WHO THE HELL CARES!

Whether they are mixed-race, pure-race, or otherwise, they have already embraced each other's hearts, haven't they?!

Even if she really did deceive him, so what?

He liked her, loved her, and would forgive her no matter what—especially since she hadn't lied to him at all!

Isn't Prarese honest enough?

She didn't even want him to continue deceiving himself, and reminded him of the truth.

Draco still couldn't shake off the racial prejudice instilled in him by his upbringing, but his bottom line began to quietly recede.

If it's Praris...

Ridiculous! How can anyone else compare to Praris?

The snow covered the lawn outside Hogwarts with a thick "blanket," and Christmas was approaching silently as you walked on the soft snow.

Praris was as sensitive to the cold as ever, a chronic condition she had developed at the convent.

Chilblains can be cured, but the risk of recurrence in severe cases is very high, and even the use of magic potions cannot prevent it.

Magic wasn't allowed in the hallways, but Praris had to squeeze in time every day to do experiments in the classroom. She had no choice but to wrap herself up like a ball, her mind focused on putting the development of a potion that would completely cure frostbite on her agenda.