HP North Star's Radiance

The Death Eaters were not a very united organization to begin with; their job was to fawn over the powerful and bully the weak in order to gain Voldemort's favor.

After leaving the classroom, Draco could still remember Amicus Caro's mocking face: "You're just like your father—in your incompetence."

Incompetent... Yes, incompetent.

Draco wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he couldn't deny it either. He just clenched his fists and silently accepted Amicus's taunts.

Admitting one's mistakes is difficult, but reality has repeatedly crushed him. From the choices his family made to the choices he was forced to make, from his parents' helplessness to his own vulnerability...

The master they followed forced him to do things he didn't want to do and couldn't do, while Dumbledore, his enemy, said, "Draco, you are not a murderer."

Growing up is a cruel thing. Only when you gradually realize that you are not the protagonist of the world do the scenes of the adult world slowly unfold.

Draco gradually spoke less, no longer shouting as arrogantly as before. He spent more time thinking than talking and doing combined, to the point that he could say things like, "You won't get hurt if you don't know anything."

This wasn't something he'd read in a book, nor was he told it by anyone; it was Draco's own experience. He vaguely realized that, in his younger days, he had never truly understood the world.

He knew nothing in the past, which is why he felt happy.

Having witnessed death twice, Draco's childhood had long since ended abruptly. Those days of knowing nothing, blindly believing his parents' teachings, and arguing with his head held high that the future would be as carefree as the past, were gone forever.

He whispered to Praris, "Maybe."

Praris sighed. "You left in such a hurry last semester, I asked Anderson and Thomas to pack up all your valuables—wait for me in the lounge, your toolbox is there too."

Professor Snape appears to be the kind of person who is lenient with his students. But in reality, under his administration, not only were boys forbidden from going to the girls' dormitories, but girls were also forbidden from going to the boys' dormitories.

—He can't do whatever he wants even when he's not at school; there are special magical restrictions in place.

At the end of last semester, Prareas asked two younger boys to help Draco put away his things so that they wouldn't be too messy during the holidays and get taken by mistake, thrown away by ghosts, or simply lost, forcing them to rummage through the House of Requirement's trash.

Sitting on the leather sofa in the hall, Draco stroked the pattern on the small toolbox.

He could almost recall how he secretly scraped together these things from his allowance, the days he sat across from Praris doing "crafts," and... how he used this toolbox to fix the Vanishing Cabinet and put the Death Eaters into Hogwarts.

Draco didn't regret doing it; he knew he would do it again even if he had to do it all over again, and he was relieved that his father had managed to leave Azkaban.

But he… Draco stared intently at the small toolbox, then turned away and said, “Prareth, I don’t need this anymore. Alchemy has many other branches; I’m now interested in the more theoretical study of fundamental elements and the transmutation of matter.”

Draco felt as if he had returned to the beginning, to the days before he picked up his tools.

Back then, Draco read countless alchemical books, becoming engrossed in deciphering the metaphors of the ancient alchemists. He could even speak fluently about Valentine's alchemical theories, which even Praris was unaware of.

Praris looked down at the toolbox that had been pushed in front of him, feeling a tightness in his chest.

really?

Are you really not interested?

Praris didn't believe it. She couldn't believe that the writings on alchemy she had buried at the bottom of her trunk, filled with such research, had been abandoned by their owner. She also couldn't believe that Draco, who had used his creation as a raft to woo her, had lost interest in creating magical artifacts.

“Okay.” Praris blinked and said to the pale and dejected boy in front of him, “Since you don’t like it anymore, just give it to me.”

She said gently, "I'll keep this box for you until you become interested in it again."

Draco, hunched over with his hands on his knees, covered his face and said, "I don't like it anymore!"

“I know,” Prarese said.

"Drop it!" Draco growled.

Praris said, "No."

"What's so good about it!" Draco exclaimed, his smile mocking. "I don't want it anymore, and you still want to pick up trash?"

Praris's gaze was calm, as if nothing could shake her resolve: "It's just a tool, it has no choice of its own. What can it do when someone uses it to do things it doesn't want to do?"

“At least—” Prarees said, “it has created many of my favorite gadgets and brought joy to people I like.”

Draco, now back at Hogwarts, is mostly silent. He keeps his mouth shut, but in his heart he utters countless words, brewing a volcano that will soon change the landscape of his mind.

This process is silent to outsiders; people can only glimpse the new world that exists within his body from some of his unintentional words and actions.

The process of reshaping the new world was destined to be turbulent. Sometimes he was taciturn, sometimes he was elated, sometimes he was panicked, and sometimes he even had ideas that were outrageous to his past self.

Prares's calmness soothed Draco's mood, causing him to become depressed and melancholic again.

Draco leaned against the sofa, head down, his bangs obscuring his eyes.

“Whatever,” Draco said. “They all say you’re much better than me. Anyway… you can’t be wrong.”

Upon hearing this, Praris finally sat up straight and said solemnly, "Draco, don't repeat the same mistakes. Now, apologize for your nonsense—do you think I really won't be angry?"

Draco seemed to remember something, and froze. After a long silence, he whispered, "I was wrong... How are you today?"

“No,” Praris said firmly. “How can doing something you don’t like be good? You know that very well, don’t you?”

Through the gaps in his wispy hair, Draco looked up and saw Pralis looking at him. He couldn't quite describe what that gaze was like; he just felt as if he were being sucked into those dark eyes and drowned in them.

"Aren't you going to comfort me?" Praris's voice seemed to have a magical quality. She said, "I hugged you when you were sad. So, you still owe me a hug, aren't you going to pay it back?"

Draco excels at obedience—obeying his father's teachings, following his mother's requests, and... obeying Prares's orders.

In the Slytherin girls' dormitory.

Prarese put down her bag and small glass bottle, then took Draco's luggage and went out.

Pansy then squatted down to look at the silver arrow frog in the bottle.

The next second, she opened her eyes wide in surprise—the silver arrow frog's leg had twitched slightly!

"Huh?" Pansy smiled with surprise. "It's not dead! Pray, it's not dead!"

Pansy reached behind her without turning her head and waved up and down.

"Who isn't dead?" Daphne said impatiently. "Plares just went out!"

Pansy then slapped her forehead in annoyance.

Honestly! I remember it one second and forget it the next!

When Praris returned, Pansy quickly told her that the Silver Arrow Frog was still alive. Strangely, Praris didn't show any surprise or delight.

“I know.” Praris recalled that this was the second time he had said this today. “I controlled the strength and the duration of the spell. It won’t die, it just needs to drink some potion to recover.”

Pansy, holding the bottle, said excitedly, "Do you want to keep it? Is it okay to keep it? Nina and Millison went to South America, and we don't have any pets in our dorm!"

Nina...

Prarese recalled the letter she received after the start of the school year.

The kitten was having some trouble adjusting to the South American climate, but fortunately, Professor Castrobuscher was an expert in macaques research, which helped Nina regain her liveliness.

“Of course,” Praris said with a smile. “You name her.”

Pansy was stunned; she hadn't expected to be assigned a task. She was utterly terrible at naming things, and after racking her brains for a long time, she couldn't come up with any good ideas. So, in a moment of desperation, she named the silver arrow frog Frog.

Praris specially prepared medicine for Frog and even asked the house-elves in the kitchen for a long, thin silver spoon to scoop tea leaves.

Frog, who had suffered, was not close to her and was even somewhat afraid of Praris. She tried to give the silver arrow frog medicine several times, but it vomited it up each time.

Who is Praris? Whether a forced relationship is sweet or not, she got what she wanted. Even if a poisonous tentacle tried to prick her, she'd get slapped; how much more so would a weak and harmless Silver Arrow Frog?

She simply poured the medicine out of Frog's mouth, grabbed its face, pinched its cheek, and shoved the medicine down its throat, feeding it all that way.

Daphne clicked her tongue in amazement: "A cruel woman."

“Thank you for the compliment.” Praris accepted it gladly.

The medicine worked very well; Frog was able to open his eyes shortly after taking it for the first time.

On this day, Praris also received a reply from Stella.

Astoria ran up to Praris like the wind, almost losing control and slid backward.

She stepped back to Praris's side and said in a low, excited voice, "Duffy said you were looking for me!"

Prarese nodded, pulled a letter from the middle of her textbook, and handed it to Astoria.

"Dear Play,

Regarding the Mudblood Grace Jones you asked about, who owes you 500 Galleons, I regret to inform you that I cannot help you collect the debt.

Jones was one of those involved in the previous large-scale prison break triggered by fugitive Potter. The Department of Magical Law Enforcement says the search party has not yet apprehended Jones.

I will continue to follow news about Jones.

Stella Stewart

Astoria breathed a long sigh of relief: "Now, no news is good news."

“Relax,” Prarese said. “Worrying won’t solve anything, but becoming stronger will give you a better chance when you encounter problems in the future.”

“I understand!” Astoria said, as if seeking praise. “I have seen my guardian spirit, Praris.”

"That's a mute swan."

Mute swan?

There are many mute swans along the Thames, graceful in appearance, territorial, and loyal. Mute swans are known as "silent swans," but they will emit a low hissing sound when excited or threatened.

Astoria summoned her guardian spirit. She tilted her head back, glancing between the mute swan and Praris.

“Well done.” Praris nodded in satisfaction.

Astoria gave her first faint smile since learning of Jones's accident.

Meanwhile, the DAs also made ample preparations during this period.

They met at the Hog's Head, formed a team, and then began training again at the Room of Requirement, plotting to steal the sword of Gryffindor.

Ginny privately told Neville and Luna what Prarese had said, but they still unanimously decided to take action.

“I heard the password—” Luna said slowly. “I met Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick on the eighth floor. They were discussing raising the issue of the Defense Against the Dark Arts class with the Headmaster.”

Ginny asked eagerly, "So what's the password?"

“Dumbledore,” Luna said.

"What?" Everyone present was stunned for a moment.

Luna thought they hadn't heard her clearly, so she had to repeat herself: "The password is Dumbledore."

Ginny and Neville's expressions both turned ugly.

Ginny retorted irritably, "Snape murdered Dumbledore! How dare he use Dumbledore as a password? Does he consider it something to be proud of?!"

Neville was so angry that his round face turned red, and he clenched his fists and said, "We must steal the Gryffindor sword and not let it stay in Snape's hands!"