HP North Star's Radiance

“Sir, winter has passed, and spring is on its way,” she said with a smile. “You may not know this, but the water level of Black Lake has risen, hasn’t it?”

A fleeting image flashed through Snape's mind of his office from years past, the windows overgrown with weeds and submerged by the Black Lake... and the bright yellow daffodils on the desk.

He never seemed to truly succeed in rejecting Praris's choices, just as he could never change Lily's mind.

Praris left with the report.

Since the fate of continuing the experiment cannot be changed, there is no need to write anything in the report that Voldemort would not like to see.

She naturally wrote that although she had just recovered from a serious illness and her mind was not quite right, she was still willing to serve the Dark Lord, even at the cost of her life.

I never imagined that Praris, who had heard so much about Stella's miserable experience of groveling before Umbridge when she first graduated, would now be repeating her tragedy before even graduating himself.

Without warning, Prareus drew his wand with lightning speed, sending a Gryffindor flying like a ball after landing, and then hurtling a distance before stopping.

This dramatic change caused passing wizards and sorcerers to gasp in surprise, covering their mouths and staring wide-eyed in astonishment.

"Damn it," Praris cursed inwardly. "How did Neville and Ginny manage their kids?! How dare they let a fourth-year student provoke me!"

Now, in front of everyone, how could that wicked Slytherin, Praris, possibly let him off easily!

Praris walked slowly over and stopped at his feet. She raised her chin and looked down at the name on his chest: "Louis, a good name."

"How strange." She gave Louis a light, rather unceremonious kick, then pointed to the name on her robe. "What does this say? Tell me, you can't possibly be illiterate, can you?"

Her tone was full of doubt: "I really don't understand, who gave you the courage to think you can challenge me—even by sneak attacking me?"

Louis gasped for breath, clutching his chest as if he'd been hit. He pushed himself back, slowly raising his upper body: "Nobody gave me the courage, I got it myself! Damn Slytherins! Carol's lackeys! Despicable Death Eater trainees!"

In the past, Louis's words wouldn't have angered Praris at all, but the last sentence unexpectedly stung her.

"Ha—you despicable Slytherin?" Praris laughed mockingly, binding him with a flick of her wand. "I suppose you're the 'noble' Gryffindor, aren't you? Noble by sneaking around, huh?"

"Oh dear, the brave Gryffindors charged at me, a cowardly Slytherin, like knights, and terrified me, who had just been discharged from the hospital! It seems I have no choice but to hand you over to... well, Professor Amicus Caro, that's closer!"

Louis looked alarmed upon hearing her words.

Prareese dragged Louise along, just like Professor Snape had dragged Neville a few days earlier, except that she used magic, making it easier for her.

This is the fourth floor; Amicus Caro's office is on the third floor.

Prareus didn't choose to go to the fifth floor and hand the guy over to Professor Snape for one reason: going downstairs was less strenuous than going upstairs, and it was also on the way back to the Slytherin common room.

Secondly, before going to Amicus's office, she would first go to the Charms classroom, located on the fourth floor near the corridor leading to the third floor.

"Ah! Pra-Prince, what's going on!" Professor Flitwick exclaimed in surprise when he saw Pra-Prince dragging someone along. "Isn't that Louis Bedford of Gryffindor?!"

Praris gave Louis a cold glance and said indifferently, "That's right, Professor Flitwick, Mr. Bedford openly attacked me in the corridor and was subdued by me."

Louis glared fiercely at Praris, then turned to Professor Flitwick with a pleading look.

Professor Flitwick coughed awkwardly twice: "Mr. Bedford, this is not good! In that case, I'll send you to—Hagrid's place. He needs help patrolling the Forbidden Forest."

Chapter 270 Second Visit to Malfoy Manor

Praris raised an eyebrow, glanced at Louis, and then at Professor Flitwick: "Professor, according to school rules, students who make mistakes should first be handed over to Professors Carlo."

“Ah!” Professor Flitwick stammered a little. “Yes, that’s right, but Professor Carol is very busy right now. Professor Snape, I mean, Headmaster, that’s how you deal with Miss Weasley when she makes a mistake!”

Praris looked down at Louis, who was bound hand and foot, and seemed to be deep in thought.

Professor Flitwick and Louis swallowed hard, completely forgetting that Praris's use of magic in the corridor was also against school rules.

She hesitated for a moment, then waved her wand and tossed Louise next to Professor Flitwick, saying softly, "Well, since Professor Snape is doing it this way."

Both of them breathed a sigh of relief. Professor Flitwick was relieved that his student had been spared torment by the Carol siblings, and Louis was relieved to have escaped a terrible ordeal.

But then Praris crouched down again, still looking down at him with disdain: "Mr. Bedford—"

Louis had no idea what she was up to. The most frightening things are often not the tangible, but the unknown. He couldn't help but let his imagination run wild. Was she going to take one last revenge on him before she left? But Professor Flitwick was still here!

When he attacked Praris, he was driven by a surge of passion, intending to take advantage of her illness and avenge Neville. But as his courage waned, what was revealed was the tension and unease stemming from his own inadequacy.

Only those who have truly faced Praris Prince can understand Louis's sense of powerlessness.

He couldn't figure out how she could discover him so quickly—did she have eyes in the back of her head? Her movements were incredibly fast, and her magic was extremely powerful. Louis felt that he would never be able to do what she did even after graduation.

Prarese said sarcastically, "Attack a classmate, Mr. Bedford, ten points deducted from Gryffindor—Professor Flitwick, you don't mind, do you?"

Prarese openly deducted all the points in front of Professor Flitwick, and then pretended to ask Professor Flitwick for his opinion.

Professor Flitwick, completely unaware of this, simply nodded unconsciously. Only after nodding did he remember that he was the Ravenclaw Headmaster with the authority to deduct points, while Prarese was merely a prefect.

“Good luck, sir,” Praris said, standing up with a condescending and disdainful air. “But you can’t stuff luck into your skull and use it as a brain, can you? I sincerely wish you the best of luck next time!”

After saying that, she turned and left decisively, putting away her wand as she did so, while the bindings on Louis disappeared at the same time.

“Professor Flitwick, Prince was horrible…” Louis pressed his hand against the sore wound on his shoulder, “She threw me like a ball!”

Professor Flitwick was also impressed by Praris. He was surprised to find that she was like this outside of class.

He couldn't help but think to himself, "Is it because whoever raised him looks like him? This child looks more like Snape than Sylvia!"

"You shouldn't have attacked him!" Professor Flitwick sternly criticized Louis. "No matter what, you shouldn't have done that. It's not the right thing to do!"

Louis would admit his mistakes to Professor Flitwick, but he would never bow down to that Death Eater's lackey. His voice was barely a whisper: "Professor Flitwick, I know I was wrong..."

Meanwhile, Praris had already gone downstairs and returned to the Slytherin common room.

As soon as Praris entered, he saw Draco hunched over, hands on his knees, head down, reading a book. The candlelight in the common room cast a shadow on him.

After the Malfoy family's decline, perhaps knowing he had lost his support, Draco no longer cared about being on the front lines or showing off. Except in front of Praris, Pansy, Zabini, and Nott, he was much more silent than others.

Reaching this point, Praris felt as if she had returned home, and a flood of vulnerable emotions overwhelmed her. She finally remembered the terrible mess she had made of herself.

One step, two steps... she slowly walked towards Draco.

Draco noticed the sofa beside him sag, but didn't react. Of all the Slytherins, only one person would be this close to him.

"You're back?" Draco said slowly. "Look—'The Crown of Nature,' a gem of our English alchemy school. I spent most of my allowance on it; it's a rare, beautifully illustrated manuscript..."

Draco's words came to an abrupt halt as he felt Praris's head rest on his shoulder.

Praris was different from the other girls; she had a faint, mixed scent of various potions. Draco couldn't identify it, but he found it quite pleasant.

When Slughorn asked his students to identify what kind of potion was in the cauldron, Draco smelled that aroma.

Draco closed "The Crown of Nature" and casually placed it on the round table beside him. He raised his right shoulder and wrapped his arm around Praris's shoulder, naturally putting his arm around her.

“Didn’t I just say? Stay in the school infirmary for a few more days!” Prareas could feel a slight tremor in his body as he spoke. “Now look at you, like a sick peacock—have you ever seen a peacock?”

"Actually, we have a few peacocks on our family estate. It's nothing special. The only thing worth mentioning is that my father specifically chose white ones. I thought that suited our family's taste..."

"I've seen it," Prass thought, "and I'll see it again." She never imagined that her first trip to Malfoy Manor would be to steal Voldemort's backup plan, while her second trip would become Voldemort's backup plan.

“I can’t imagine,” Praris said softly.

Draco said proudly, "Imagination won't help; you have to see it with your own eyes, understand?"

"Are you going to broaden my horizons?" Praris said slowly. "I'm a very ignorant fellow."

"Me!" Draco uttered only one word before swallowing the rest. "Not now. Later—there will be other opportunities!"

“You’re too thin,” Praris complained. “It’s uncomfortable.”

Draco wasn't going to back down either: "Don't you think you should say that back to yourself?"

“I don’t think so,” Praris said arrogantly. “I’m unreasonable!”

Draco had never seen such a self-righteous person, who, looking sickly, had just come out of the ward and was already righteously criticizing others for being thin.

“Listen, get some rest!” Draco grabbed Praris’s arm and found that his hand could easily encircle Praris’s arm. He muttered, “You should get yourself a few bottles of that health potion.”

Praris turned his head and buried his face in Draco's chest, muttering, "There are side effects. Why would I take health-enhancing drugs if I'm not sick or injured!"

"No illness or injury?" Draco scoffed. "I think your messy amnesia has gotten worse!"

Praris laughed silently, his shoulders shrugging.

Her trembling made Draco involuntarily smile as well.

In the end, Praris was unable to say what he wanted to say.

In recent years, Draco had experienced far too little happiness, as rare as rain in the desert. So, whenever they had the chance to get together, Praris would try to tease him, cheer him up, and pull him out of his silence.

Silence... Praris didn't like the way Draco was thinking in silence; at those times, he was too close to himself and too far from the world.

In misfortune, at least he could be Draco's source of joy. However, fate loves to play tricks, always giving happiness to those who don't need it and misfortune to those who have too much misfortune.

Prarese's quill brush swept across the parchment as she revised her original report, creating a version Voldemort would like to read.

Perhaps it was because she couldn't bear to part with him, or perhaps it was because she lacked the courage, but she ultimately couldn't tell Draco that she was about to become like him.

That night, Wiltshire was clear with large, gray-white clouds drifting across the deep blue sky, and the wind rustling through the roadside trees.

Despite the fine weather, Malfoy Manor was completely dark and gloomy, as if all bright things would be swallowed up.

Wearing a cloak, Prass followed closely behind Professor Snape, just as he had brought her into the magical world. Only now, she was grown up and taller, and no longer needed to look up at Professor Snape.

In March, the weather in England was beginning to warm up, but Praris felt a chill creep in. She subconsciously rubbed her hair-covered forearms and frowned as she looked around.

Snape stopped and turned to look at her, saying in a low voice, "Do you remember what I said?"

“Stay calm, and don’t be surprised by anything you see,” Praris said calmly. “Sir, I can do it.”

"That would be best," Snape said, as if issuing a warning.

In the darkness, they first walked through a narrow alley, then turned right onto a driveway, and continued until they reached the end of the road, where they saw the familiar wrought-iron gates of Malfoy Manor.

The source of the cold has been found.

A large swarm of Dementors roamed outside Malfoy Manor, like streaks of greyish-white ghosts—yes, the Dementors had joined Voldemort's side. Praris had seen them patrolling and hunting Night Wanderers for the Death Eaters back in Hogsmeade.

Praris had assumed Voldemort was afraid of death, but he never expected him to be so afraid that he would summon the Dementors to be his guards!

It seemed that her and Dumbledore's two intrusions had seriously exposed the security problems at Malfoy Manor. Voldemort, unable to tolerate the sieve-like, leaky guards, summoned the Dementors.

The Death Eaters must feel a sense of familiarity, right?

Coming here is like going back to Azkaban, where they spent more than ten years—it's like being in prison, even worse than being in prison!

Praris thought that Voldemort might have used Dementors as guards partly because her modified euphoria potion could have some effect.

Praris quickly calmed himself by drowning out these dangerous thoughts with a jumble of analysis and thought.

Once she stepped through that iron gate, her trial began. Her mind was no longer free; she had to remain constantly vigilant, even when she was all alone.