HP North Star's Radiance

Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled as he laughed heartily: "About half of it is! The other half... let's talk about it in detail!"

At the end, he even winked playfully.

After hearing Dumbledore's entire plan, Prader was stunned. She murmured to herself, "I'm quite surprised by your expectations of me."

“This is what your genius has taught me, and only you can do these things,” Dumbledore said. “I think you can tell me there are no problems?”

Praris scratched her head and howled expressionlessly. After a long while, she looked up, gritted her teeth, and said, "A week, at least a week."

“That’s enough,” Dumbledore said contentedly.

The hardest thing in the world is not doing something, but doing nothing.

At first, Prader was very nervous. The clock in the common room swung its pendulum back and forth, like the heart pounding in Prader's chest. She wanted to turn on the two-way mirror and ask Professor Snape about the situation outside, but reason wouldn't allow her to do so.

Before long, a distant, faint noise began to come from upstairs. It wasn't close; it was at least from a high floor.

—The battle has begun.

Prarese's heart, which had been pounding, calmed down, but she soon began to feel anxious. Two of the most important people in her life were risking their lives up there, and she could do nothing about it.

She inexplicably recalled what Myrtle had said not long ago.

"Don't scold me—can I say? Actually, I was quite happy that day."

"Whether it's you, Harry, or Draco."

"I'd be happy to share my toilet with any of you if any of you died... but not Professor Snape."

"Why?" Praris asked.

Myrtle said, "I want the pretty one!"

"Besides you, I've only ever extended this kind of invitation to Cedric!"

"Don't be sad, it's okay if Draco doesn't wake up."

"I've experienced it for you; the romance between a ghost and a human isn't bad at all."

How she longed to leave this place!

Going anywhere, whether to kill or be killed, is better than this self-torturing wait. Time stretches longer than the horizon as he waits, Plaris places himself on the grill, turning him over and over, roasting him until he's scalding hot.

No one can maintain a high spirit forever. After an unknown amount of time, her spirits were worn down to almost nothing, leaving only a silent weariness—a silence as still as a stagnant pool.

Unaware of dawn or dusk underground, Praris pulled out her pocket watch and realized it was nearly midnight. She dragged her weary body back to bed, determined to fall asleep and hope to wake up to find out the final outcome.

However, she still couldn't sleep, so she opened her pocket watch and lit up the numbers one by one.

This is when she accepts Draco's invitation to the ball; this is when she learns that Winnie and Ms. Priscilla are safe and sound; this is when Pansy tells her that it doesn't have to be Draco; this is when she spends Christmas in Grimmauld Place...

The emotions in the mood watch, though real, are almost like the illusion of the Resurrection Stone.

The feeling of happiness is inextricably linked to the happy events themselves. However, people cannot travel back in time, so the emotions left behind become distorted, like poorly made imitations, tasting like artificially sweet industrial saccharin.

Praris found that she could no longer lie flat.

She curled up, curling herself into a ball, the waters of the entire Black Lake churning inside her chest, yet she uttered not a word of it.

Knock knock knock—

"Huh?" Milison stretched groggily. "Who is it?"

The knocking woke the girls up, and Pansy, who had the worst temper, angrily punched her pillow.

Praris got out of bed, walked to the door, and found a young Slytherin standing outside.

The girl in her pajamas said to Prince, "Prince, I'm getting up to use the bathroom..."

“Get to the point,” Prarese said.

"McG, uh, the vice principal wants to see you." The younger girl was startled by her expression, and even hiccuped in fright.

Praris nodded stiffly, grabbed the cloak from the coat rack by the door, hastily draped it over his shoulders, and hurried toward the door.

The younger girls thought, "The way Prince's cloak flutters is just like their headmaster..."

When Prarese came out, Professor McGonagall was standing at the door of the Slytherin common room.

Professor McGonagall slowly raised her head, her face as pale as a ghost, her body swaying slightly. She opened her mouth as if to ask something, but swallowed it all back down.

At this point, Prarese calmed down. She said in a composed tone, "Professor McGonagall, what can I do for you?"

“I…” Professor McGonagall said, trembling, “we need you, Praris.”

As they walked from the underground to the school infirmary, Professor McGonagall told Prarese that Bill Weasley had been bitten by a werewolf—the only saving grace was that it wasn't a full moon.

“Mrs. Pomfrey used every magic she knew,” Professor McGonagall said, trying to remain calm, “but none of them could cure Bill.”

The logic is clear. The only potion masters in the world who truly understand werewolves, besides Damocles, are Praris, who developed the inexpensive wolfsbane potion.

Professor McGonagall didn't mention what happened that night, and Prareas didn't ask, but the relationship between the two of them had quietly changed.

Professor McGonagall knew that Prarese had not participated in tonight's operation, and that Snape's actions had nothing to do with Prarese.

But she also knew perfectly well the relationship between Prader and Snape. Even someone as fair as her couldn't remain completely equal and calm in front of Prader at this moment, in this place.

The moment Professor McGonagall led Prarese into the school infirmary, all the talking ceased.

The members of the Order of the Phoenix had complex expressions on their faces.

They knew Pralis was a Slytherin, Snape's close apprentice. They also knew the girl was Priscilla Chandler's daughter. Sirius Black was among them, and he knew a little more—she was actually the child of a Gryffindor classmate.

Ms. Priscilla was the first to speak: "Praris, come and see Bill!"

Chapter 190 Farewell

Praris remained expressionless and nodded calmly: "If I can walk over there."

The crowd continued to stare at Praris, but still made way for him, revealing Bill Weasley's deeply lined face on the hospital bed.

Ms. Pomfrey's face was filled with helpless self-reproach: "This child was bitten by an untransformed werewolf, and the wound is cursed, unable to heal completely..."

She is a skilled healer, but not a potion master; she cannot conjure potions that never existed.

After the treatment proved ineffective, Madame Pomfrey's first instinct was to seek help from Severus, only to be shocked to learn of his betrayal.

Tonks' voice came from behind Lupin: "How about Praris? She improved the wolfsbane potion; she must know a lot about werewolves!"

“Prarees didn’t show up tonight?” Harry asked in surprise. “Didn’t Snape ask her for help?”

Winnie stood up abruptly, angrily saying, "Potter, what do you mean? Why did Snape drag Praders into this!"

“Who doesn’t know she’s Snape’s protégé!” Ron stared intently at Bill’s face, demanding repeatedly, “Who doesn’t know her intelligence? Who doesn’t know her abilities? Who doesn’t know her affair with Malfoy!”

“So, according to you, I still have the Death Eater mark on my hand!” Winnie said sarcastically. “Why don’t you just turn me into an enemy too!”

The school clinic fell silent again.

Not long ago, Winnie had wounded two Death Eaters in a melee and saved Neville.

Seeing that everyone had finally stopped arguing, Mrs. Pomfrey said, "Let the child come here; I think she might be able to do it."

“I understand.” Praris, seemingly unaware of the previous argument, asked casually, “How could there be werewolves in the school?”

"How dare you say that!" Ron shouted suddenly, his eyes wide with anger. "It was Malfoy who let Graybury in! I don't believe you know nothing about it!"

“Ron!” Mr. Weasley quickly grabbed his other son.

Bill is Ron's older brother, and Ron is well aware of Praris's talent. Now, Bill lies in bed, and the culprit behind all this is closely connected to Praris—how can Ron remain rational?

Ironically, the only person who can help Bill now is Snape's apprentice, Malfoy's girlfriend.

Prarese glanced at Ron, then looked at Bill lying on the bed, and turned to Mrs. Pomfrey, saying, "Mrs. Pomfrey, there are two options."

She looked at the ointment in Mrs. Pomfrey's hand: "The first method is to continue applying the ointment until I develop a completely effective treatment. However, this will take some time, and I cannot guarantee success."

This method sounds extremely extreme.

It's either complete success or utter failure.

Fleur and Mrs. Weasley were still embracing—their relationship seemed to have completely improved. Her face was streaked with tears as she eagerly asked Prarese, "What about the second one?"

“I have a potion with regenerative properties, but it needs some minor adjustments…” Praris’s next words sent a chill down everyone’s spine. “Cut off all the flesh that has been tainted by the curse and let a new face grow back.”

The plan sounded too bloody, and the Weasleys looked at each other and huddled together, whispering among themselves.

Prarese took off the gloves he was using to examine the wound and walked toward Winnie and Ms. Prie in the corner.

Ms. Priscilla asked in a low voice, her head bowed, "He ran off with that boy without telling you beforehand?"

Hearing Ms. Prie's words, Winnie was stunned for a moment and asked in a low voice, "Why tell Prie? Prie is just his student!"

Prarese looked at Ms. Prie and said, "He said that Dumbledore asked him to look after me."

Ms. Prie shook her head and hugged Praris. She said, “I believe you’re not lying to me, but I don’t believe he would do this—this is a mess! How could this happen…”

Winnie was completely confused and tugged at Praris's sleeve: "What's going on?"

Prareas said calmly, "Professor Snape is Sylvia's cousin, but he doesn't like Sylvia and Ryan."

She paused for a second, then added, "It's always been like this."

Winnie paused, then seemed to suddenly remember something. Her eyes widened, and she murmured to herself, "I remember now! Oh!"

This memory is so distant; recalling it is as blurry as frosted glass.

Around the time they first enrolled, Sylvia seemed to have specifically gone to see a dark-haired upperclassman, but they got into an argument before they could even exchange a few words.

Now that I think about it, could that really have been Severus Snape?

“It would be best if he hated you!” Winnie said urgently. “He killed Dumbledore and ran away with Malfoy’s son. Pry, don’t speak up for him, or you’ll be in trouble!”

Boom!

Hearing Winnie's words, Prader's heart, which had been pounding in her chest, finally settled. Blood returned to her limbs, bringing her back from the brink of death. But it also made her see Professor McGonagall in a new light.

When Professor McGonagall arrived, her suppressed pain and the calm she tried to project to Prader made Prader almost believe that either Professor Snape or Draco was dead.

It turned out that there was no such thing. She simply couldn't bear to transfer her heartache for those two people onto Praris, whom she saw as innocent.

At this moment, almost everyone in the school clinic had bruises on their bodies. Various subtle sounds came one after another, like the vibration of some insect's wings, drifting into Praris's ears.

Some say he thought he knew Snape.

Praris saw that it was Professor Flitwick. He glanced at her with a complicated expression, then quickly looked away after their eyes met.