HP North Star's Radiance

My parents are both Muggles, they're Mudbloods?

Prarese instinctively felt this wasn't a good word.

She knew that Slytherins had some blood discrimination, but her understanding of it was not deep, limited to the "pure-blood" books she had read before.

Praris chatted briefly before returning to his dorm.

Milison and Daphne weren't there; only Pansy was painting her nails.

“Pansy,” Prarese pondered for a moment, “Malfoy was almost cursed by the Weasleys today.”

"What!" Pansy immediately stopped what she was doing. "What's going on!"

“I just ran into one of our Quidditch players,” Prareus said. “Marcus said Malfoy insulted Granger and Weasley was furious.”

"Is Draco alright?" Pansy asked worriedly.

“Nothing’s wrong. Weasley’s wand broke, and he ended up cursing himself.”

"Haha, that's good."

Prarese laughed and said, "If you ask me, Weasley is quite protective of Granger."

“Maybe Weasley likes her!” Pansy said, starting to paint her nails again. “What do you mean? What did Draco say to Granger that made Weasley so angry?”

"Mud-type".

Pansy changed her nail polish: "It does sound a bit awful, but it's normal~ Daphne always curses those Muggle wizards like that."

“To be honest, the way Daphne said those things didn’t feel insulting to me. She always acts like it’s perfectly normal,” Praris coaxed gently.

Pansy said, "That's how their pure-blood ideology works: Muggle blood is dirty, wizard blood is clean, and Muggle wizards have dirty blood. But honestly, whose blood isn't red?"

Praris didn't expect that Pansy wasn't a pureblood.

Oh right, she's just hopelessly in love. Whether she's pure-blooded or not doesn't matter to her.

“You can’t tell either!” Prares said. “I didn’t see you like this when you were cursing Gryffindor.”

“As long as Draco likes it,” Pansy muttered. “I’m not a pureblood, I’m a pragmatist. Look at my nails, aren’t they pretty? Do you think Draco will like them?”

“It looks good, but I don’t think he’ll notice,” Prarese said sincerely.

“Your honesty breaks my heart,” Pansy said, holding up her hand and looking at it again and again.

Praris laughed: "No more pragmatism now?"

"Beautiful nails make me happy, and they're very practical!" Pansy chuckled.

Prarese suppressed the turmoil within her.

Prior to this, she had not felt much of the power of bloodline theory in Slytherin.

After all, she was the most outstanding young wizard and a student valued by Professor Snape, and she was very adept at navigating the wizarding world.

Perhaps because she rarely revealed anything about the Muggle world, no one ever doubted her identity.

But she knew herself that she was of mixed race.

Unsurprisingly, her mother was a witch and her father was a Muggle. Her witch mother killed her Muggle father and sent her to a Muggle monastery, where she lived for seven or eight years.

If it weren't for that "Mudblood," Praris would have almost forgotten her past.

But so what? Voldemort was already reduced to ashes by baby Potter.

Wizards who still insist on the distinction between pure-blood and mixed-blood are like those old-fashioned monarchists who cling to monarchical theories; they should have been buried long ago.

If Prarese were to see this, even if Voldemort came back to life, he wouldn't be able to cause any trouble.

Grindelwald at least lost to the greatest white wizard of his time, and isn't he imprisoned in Nurmengard now? Voldemort, on the other hand, died at the hands of a mere infant—he's not even as good as Grindelwald!

Thinking about this, Praris felt even more strongly that the theory of bloodline was nothing more than a bond between politicians, a reason to bring them closer together, and a banner to start a war.

Think about it! Potter's mother was also a Muggle witch, and the biggest supporter of bloodline theory died at the hands of a Muggle witch's son!

If bloodline theory were valid, Malfoy should be smarter than her.

Salazar Slytherin's aversion to half-bloods and Mongrels stemmed from a fear of the wizarding secrets being revealed. His aversion to betrayal and the disclosure of secrets lay not in a belief that pure-bloods were more powerful.

Thinking about this, Praris found pure-blood ideology even more ridiculous.

------

In October, a light rain began to fall in the Scottish Highlands, and the Forbidden Forest could be seen in the distance, lush and verdant.

Rainy days are not good for Slytherin, as the cellars are already damp and often require drying charms and lighting the fireplace.

Once it starts to rain, the students coming and going bring in rainwater from outside, making it even more soaking cold.

The Quidditch players returned from outside, their clothes and brooms wet. They shook their heads, splashing rainwater everywhere.

Miss Farley roared in fury: "Are you all hairy dogs?! All of you! Get out! Shake off the water before you come back in!"

Chapter 28 Reconciliation

Marcus, who was so big, was stunned by Farley's scolding and lowered his head to pull the team members out.

Malfoy was dragged out before he even entered, yelling, "Why aren't you going in!"

Marcus whistled and said, "I've suddenly thought of a new tactic!"

“Shouldn’t we at least change into some clean clothes before we talk?” Malfoy said.

"Clean and fresh, dry and breezy."

Praris raised his wand and said to them, "Make way, you're blocking the way."

Marcus put his arm around Prarese's shoulder happily: "Prarese, you're a really reliable friend."

Praris nudged his arm: "It's so heavy."

Draco stared at Marcus and Praris's retreating figures, his arms crossed over his chest, his lips pursed, and his expression sinister.

Goalkeeper Miles patted him on the shoulder: "Aren't you leaving?"

Draco was the one who was most eager to go in just now, and he's still standing there refusing to leave.

Draco Malfoy snorted, still looking displeased, but quickly went inside.

Recently, Draco joined the Slytherin Quidditch team through a sponsorship deal.

In fact, he pleaded with his mother for a long time, but she still disagreed.

In the end, his father said, "It's just Quidditch. If Draco likes it, let him give it a try."

Did Porter think he was special?

Draco thought dismissively that there was nothing he couldn't do if he wanted it.

Quidditch training is very intense, and it's been raining lately, but Draco hasn't complained of being tired even once.

He felt very excited; the exercise activated his nerves and released those unpleasant and unnecessary emotions.

As he rode on the broom with the wind blowing in his ears, he could hear almost nothing but his own wildly beating heart.

The Slytherin Quidditch team consists mostly of upperclassmen, and the captain is Marcus Flint, a sixth-year student.

Yes, it's Flint, the one who led the team to defeat last year, and also the prefect Flint.

Draco actually looked down on Flint, but he didn't show it.

His father said that although Flint wasn't very smart, he needed Flint now.

Or rather, it is precisely because Flint is not smart enough that Draco is able to slowly learn to take over what he now has.

The Slytherin Quidditch team was mostly boys, and boys' topics of conversation included sports, rivalries, and the girls in the house.

These older male team members generally had a crush on Stella Stewart, or had a flirtatious relationship with her.

“Draco, you haven’t seen her riding a broomstick. If you had, you’d like her too!” Miles licked his lips. “She’s awesome!”

Stella is a former hitter. Hitlers need very strong hand strength, and now, apart from Hollyhead Harbour captain Gwenog Jones, there are no other female hitters.

But Stella Stewart is different; beneath her wizard robes are muscles.

In one match, the Wanderer nearly hit Slytherin's Seeker, but Stella swatted it away. The Wanderer then knocked the Seeker away the very next second.

Her striking appearance made her the most popular girl in Slytherin, and she was also beautiful and had a good personality.

If she hadn't been unwilling, she would definitely have become a class monitor, or even the president of the student council.

Nobody dislikes Stewart, except Marcus Flint.

Marcus is a big, strong man, but his lack of intelligence seems to affect his relationships.

In short, he was the only boy who would give Stewart a cold shoulder.

But now, while Marcus was talking to Snape, the teammates whispered to him, "Does Marcus like that Prince from the second year? Draco, you're a second year, do you even know Prince?"

Draco looked at him as if he'd seen a ghost: "Prince?"

“Prince, the one who’s been studying with Stewart a lot lately,” Miles said in a breathy voice. “You know, Marcus’s grades are terrible, but he passed everything last semester. He said Prince tutored him for a month.”

Derian let out an exaggerated exclamation: "With Marcus's level, he'd barely pass..."

Draco's expression darkened, and he interrupted Derian: "She doesn't like Marcus."

"How did you know?" Several team members looked over.

Draco meant to say, of course, that it was what she herself said last semester!

But he felt he couldn't say that. If they asked why, would he have to reveal the question he had asked back then?

Furthermore, Prince didn't say she disliked Marcus; she just called Draco's brain full of garbage.

Malfoy, head held high, stubbornly declared, "I just know. She's four or five years younger than Flint!"

“It’s nothing,” Derian said. “But Prince is indeed still young. Could it be that Marcus prefers younger children, which is why he’s not interested in Stewart?”

The team members immediately started talking about whether Marcus liked girls younger than himself.

Poor Marcus, unaware that his reputation was already teetering on the brink of collapse.

Malfoy looked a little lost, standing there blankly with a broom in hand.

Has he been driven crazy by that Prince guy?! Why does he care who Prince likes or who likes Prince?!