HP North Star's Radiance

Looking up, I realized there are never any good choices in this world; every path is full of thorns.

Praris didn't sit down. She stood by the table, gave him a deep look, and then pulled open the car door behind her.

Two seconds later, the saleswoman walked up to their door. She said with a beaming smile, "Honey, would you like to buy something?"

“Cake and pie, please,” Prarese said. “Thank you.”

Praris handed the change to the shopkeeper, then closed the carriage door and turned to place it all next to Draco.

Draco slowly raised his head, his light-colored eyes following her hand. He heard Praris say, "Have something to eat."

Praris added, "You've lost weight."

Physical labor is just as physically demanding as mental labor, but psychological burdens are even more mentally taxing. Over the past year, Draco has simultaneously borne all three of these difficulties.

Besides his mother, only Praris cared about the suffering he had endured. The psychological defenses Draco had built up over several days crumbled easily in an instant. He wasn't hungry, but he picked up the pumpkin pie and slowly began to chew.

Prareus used magic to divide the cauldron cake into eight pieces and placed one of them in front of Draco.

Draco looked at the cake and suddenly said, "Karedi Bubbaje is dead."

Praris stopped what he was doing, blinked, and said softly, "You saw it."

“I saw it,” Draco repeated her words, mechanically munching on the pumpkin pie.

Professor Bubbaje is the teacher of Muggle Studies, and Prarese once took her class.

But as a wizard who had lived in the Muggle world, Prarese knew far more about Muggles than Bubbaggie. So she dropped the class.

Bubbaje was very interested in Praris's knowledge and maintained correspondence with her for a long time. She later wrote a paper on the magical modification of Muggle technological items and wanted to include Praris's name in it, but Praris refused.

Now, Draco says that Professor Bubbaggie is dead.

She died quietly.

Every year at this time, robins migrate south and return the following year. But few people know that some robins never return.

Draco had never met Bubbaji, but he had seen Bubbaji's name on Praris's parchment.

Fifteen-year-old Draco scoffed, "What's so interesting about studying Muggles?"

"The Hogwarts Express came from Muggles," fifteen-year-old Praris said clearly. "I heard Stella say that the Ministry of Magic has an elevator, which was also a Muggle invention."

"Are you taking a class on protecting magical creatures? There are so many magical creatures in this world, and we spend time studying them. While protecting them, we also use them for our own purposes."

"Just like with fantastical creatures, there are so many Muggles in this world, why don't we study them, utilize them, and find ways to profit from them?"

Draco scoffed at this, but finding no rebuttal to Praris, he could only continue tinkering with his gadgets.

As he worked, he inadvertently remembered that his violin was also made by Muggles.

Why would there be Muggle items in their storage room? Did their ancestors, like Bubbaje and Prarese, study Muggles? Or perhaps they collaborated with Muggles?

Actually, not to mention his ancestors, he had already used his acquired knowledge to repair a magical artifact converted from a Muggle item. It was just that he only realized this at this moment.

This behavior, which went against the family's values, made him somewhat uncomfortable. But since there were no negative consequences afterward, the matter was left unresolved.

After this incident, Draco remembered the name Bubbaji, the professor of Muggle Studies, a class he had never taken.

At the Dark Lord's meeting, Draco saw Professor Bubbaji for the first time, but it was also the last time.

At the moment when Bubbaje was tortured and died tragically, the violin that was not with Draco played "The Murder" urgently in his heart, making his heart pound.

Draco couldn't explain what that feeling was like; he simply and quickly concealed his emotions, pretending that he was simply shocked by the death of someone in front of him.

This is the consequence of opposing the Dark Lord.

Regardless of bloodline, anyone who stands in the Dark Lord's way, whether it's the mighty Dumbledore or the weak Professor Bubbaji, will die.

Pralis is doing something dangerous; she secretly supports Dumbledore and opposes Voldemort. Under these circumstances, she could potentially implicate Draco and even affect his parents.

Draco's rational thought was this: he had been planning for a long time to distance himself from her and let her know he was a bastard. But the moment Praris opened her mouth, he crumbled, even his survival instincts subsided.

“You—” Draco’s eyes flickered, and he said in a very low voice, “Dumbledore is dead, Harry Potter has no chance of winning, and the Dark Lord will not let anyone who opposes him go unpunished!”

His voice trembled as he said, "Praris, please stay away from them, okay?"

“Oh no, Draco.” Prareas reached out his left hand and gently cupped Draco’s lower left chin. “If I say this, will you leave me?”

The back of the carriage was so quiet that only the sound of the train wheels hitting the rails could be heard.

Draco fell silent. His reason and emotion were locked in a battle, with emotion beating his reason badly, yet reason still managed to utter one last, defiant cry: "Are you looking for death?!"

Praris lowered his hand, and Draco's head instinctively moved forward, but he quickly realized what a stupid thing he was doing and awkwardly pulled his neck back.

Seeing this, Praris smiled slightly.

She said gently, "It's okay, I understand you. If you want to break up—"

"I disagree!" Draco blurted out.

With a snap, Draco's rationality was knocked out by his emotions.

Praliss was a little surprised. She had originally intended to warn Draco not to let her see him being intimate with other girls while he was still alive.

But Draco's subconscious reaction surprised her, even faster than Praris's extraordinary analytical abilities, leaving her feeling astonished.

“Aren’t you afraid?” Praris asked.

Draco remained silent.

He was afraid, but he didn't want to admit it.

He was afraid, but he didn't want to leave Praris.

If Prader were alone, she would surely have agreed to Draco's request. But she had Winnie, Priscilla, Professor Snape…

“I can’t agree to your request. Do you still want to be with me?” Praris’s deep eyes were fixed on Draco. “Don’t be impulsive. This isn’t something you can decide lightly. And don’t worry, I won’t resent you because of your choice.”

Draco held his head, sighing in pain and distress.

Pralis couldn't bear to see him suffer, but she had to do it. This was the path she had chosen, not Draco's, and Draco didn't need to suffer unnecessary sorrow because of her choice.

If Draco has to be sad, she hopes it's now, rather than someday he has to endure more pain.

Draco pleaded with Prareas, "Prareas, you're so smart... tell me, is the path you've chosen guaranteed to succeed?"

“I don’t know,” Praris said with extreme calm. “Draco, I don’t know. Some paths are chosen not because they will definitely succeed, but because they have to be taken.”

If it were her a few years ago, Prarese would proudly say: "Because I chose this path, it is bound to succeed."

But these were Pralis's words to Draco, and she had to take full responsibility. She couldn't accept that Draco might sacrifice his life because of her arrogance.

Even the most timid person will become braver for the one they love. Even the most confident person will become cautious for the one they love.

Prareus dared to break into Malfoy Manor at night and kill Voldemort's Horcruxes and beloved pets in his stronghold, yet he dared not utter a single word of affirmation to Draco.

After what seemed like an eternity, Draco finally spoke, "Praris, I don't know either."

It seems that Draco has been like this ever since Voldemort's resurrection. He is contradictory, gray, absolutely not righteous, nor entirely evil. He is an ambiguous, gloomy sky.

“Well, I don’t know then,” Praris said calmly. “Draco, many times I don’t have a definite answer either. I just keep doing what I think I should do.”

Place Grimmauld, number 12.

Upon being discovered by Yaxley, Harry and Hermione's first reaction was to drag Ron's attendant to number 12 Grimmauld Place.

But Yaxley grabbed Hermione's hand, and Hermione couldn't shake him off, so the four of them appeared together at the old house.

Sirius Black was the Keeper of the Secrets of the Old House, and Axley was kept out of the range of the Loyalty Charm without the Keeper's permission.

“This is troublesome.” Winnie came downstairs and said seriously, “Those Death Eaters are watching us near Number Eleven and Number Thirteen.”

Moody angrily questioned Harry and the others: "What were you doing at the Ministry of Magic? Why didn't you tell us about this!"

Harry said without hesitation, "This is a task that Dumbledore gave me before he died, and I cannot tell anyone else."

“If anything happens to you at the Ministry of Magic!” Moody roared, “all our previous efforts will have been wasted!”

Harry said, "But we're back—"

“Except for Ron’s arm!” Moody interrupted Harry. “You should be glad you kept an arm instead of your life!”

Kingsley felt he should ease the tension: "Luckily, Stewart didn't realize you had a problem right away."

Moody's Magic Eye darted around, and he limped back and forth before saying decisively, "Stuart is a smart woman; there's no way she didn't notice that Harry and the others were up to something!"

“So she went to find Umbridge, but didn’t find her,” Kingsley said with a grin. “Relax, Mad-Eye, she’s always fawning over Umbridge, and Harry always claims it was Umbridge’s order—why would she disobey?”

Moody remained suspicious but couldn't pinpoint the problem. The most important thing now wasn't what Stewart was up to, but rather strengthening the house's security, so they put that aside for the time being.

Harry looked at Hermione, as if he wanted to say something.

Hermione shook her head at him, and Harry shut his mouth again.

Harry remembered that in his early years, the witch would always sit with Praris during Quidditch matches, chatting and laughing, and the two seemed to have a good relationship.

Stuart looked much the same as he did in school, except he seemed much more serious; Harry almost didn't recognize him.

That night, the three of them gathered together, thinking about how to destroy the locket.

“I used the basilisk’s fangs to destroy the diary!” Harry slapped his thigh. “Right, the basilisk’s venom! Praris had some left after healing Bill!”

Ron exclaimed, "Wow! What a great idea, if you can find her!"

The three of them fell silent.

The last news from Praris was the letter she sent pointing out the location of the locket. They simply didn't have a way to contact Praris proactively.

Harry said regretfully, "We should have asked her for some snake venom when she came here."

Harry's idea wasn't wrong, but Praris wouldn't give it to him. Because by then, she herself had no snake venom left.

To kill Nagini, Praris used up the last of his snake venom and ruined a magic dagger.

“If school starts, Prader will definitely go to school.” Harry could only continue racking his brains. “Snape is the headmistress now, so she—”

Hermione couldn't help but remind her, "So where are we going to look for her? King's Cross Station?"

What's the difference between this and sending someone to their death?

"Can the basilisk's venom destroy a Horcrux?" Ron suddenly looked up. "Ginny said you killed the basilisk with the Gryffindor sword!"

Chapter 216 The Start of Seventh Grade

"A sword!" Harry's eyes widened. "The Gryffindor sword must have basilisk venom on it!"