HP North Star's Radiance

"What are you doing?" Praris asked curiously.

She sensed that Draco was brewing something he himself felt he shouldn't say.

Draco's eyes swept over the only path leading to the terrace before he grabbed Praris's upper arm, his eyes gleaming, and whispered, "Praris, you should go!"

Praris paused for a moment: "Go? Where to?"

“Anywhere, get out of England!” Draco seemed a little nervous. “You have no family, no ties… Yes, go find Winnie Brown. The Order of the Phoenix would love to have one less capable enemy and send you away. After all, once you graduate, they'll have one more person to deal with.”

The first mission nearly cost Praris the most precious thing of a potions genius. What will Voldemort ask her to do in the second mission?

Draco couldn't think of anything, nor dared he. His heart was pounding like a mad rabbit. Coincidentally, it was March, so it wasn't surprising that the rabbit was a little crazy.

How he longed to return to Praris the poem they had once read together—"Fly into the clouds, never to return, never!"*

Praris looked up at him in astonishment.

Did Draco even know what he was talking about? He was a Death Eater, his father was a Death Eater, and now he was trying to get Praris to escape his Death Eater fate... without considering whether Praris's departure would affect him.

“I had no choice,” Draco stammered, his face pale. “I have a father and a mother. If I didn’t do it, he would kill me and my whole family. But you’re different… Praris, you have no family… Run away like Burst!”

How awful! Who doesn't have family?!

But that's exactly how Draco saw it.

Praris gently shook her head, pulled Draco's hand off her left arm with her right hand, and slowly pressed it to her cheek.

She said, "Your hands are so cold, they don't look like yours at all."

Draco's hands should be warm, like a cozy hot water bottle.

Upon hearing this, Draco realized how flustered he was, to the point that his hands and feet became slightly cold.

“I’m sorry, Draco,” Praris said calmly. “I can’t leave.”

"Why?" Draco asked, somewhat irritated. "Is there anything worth staying here for? I can't see it!"

“Yes, of course, the people here are worth my staying.” Praris looked deeply into the eyes of his lover and said softly, “Draco, I have something on my mind.”

"If I wanted to leave, I would have left the UK when the Muggle registration policy was introduced, wouldn't I? I didn't choose to leave then, and I won't do it now."

To be honest, Prarese could have avoided getting involved in this mess. But what sets one person apart from another is what they care about.

She cared about Professor Snape, about Winnie and Priscilla, about Draco, about Pansy, Daphne, Millison, Astoria, about everyone in Diagon Alley, and about so many others.

Yes, Prasris, like other Slytherins, values ​​her life, so she always leaves herself an escape route in every choice. Regardless of whether the Order of the Phoenix or the Death Eaters win, she won't necessarily die a horrible death.

But what's the cost?

There is hope as long as we are alive, but people never live just to survive. Survival is the lowest level of the hierarchy of needs; above that are love and belonging, and then the pursuit of values ​​and ideals.

Praris's love enabled her to do things that most people wouldn't even dare to think of, even though she was certain she wouldn't die.

Moreover, Prass isn't unwilling to leave, but rather unable to—to run away carrying Voldemort's life-or-death secret? If she did, she'd probably receive the same treatment as the savior.

Draco lowered his head dejectedly. He had long known that he couldn't change Praris's decision, but he still mustered the courage to say what he dared not say.

Now, he's just getting an answer he already expected.

Praris stepped forward, gently hugged Draco, and stroked his light-colored hair: "Draco, don't be sad... don't cry, I'm afraid of your tears. I've already promised you a part of myself with my feelings, I have no right to die on my own—trust me, I can handle it."

In her eyes, Draco's life shouldn't be hard or sad. This idea is extreme and completely unreasonable.

But if you truly love someone, you can't bear to see them sad, and you feel they deserve all the good things in life. Even the smallest setbacks are, at most, things you bring upon yourself.

Draco was clearly grieving for Pralis, but Pralis insisted it was all Voldemort's fault, and therefore wished even more that Voldemort would go to see God—no, the devil in hell.

Regardless of whether hell and demons actually exist.

People tend to speak in dialects when they are excited, and Praris, when her emotions are running high, reveals the traces left on her by the monastery.

"I won't cry!" Draco wiped his face haphazardly and hurriedly looked up. "How could I not believe you... I mean, you'd better keep your word."

Praris smiled slightly and said, "I always keep my word."

What a naive thing to say! If she goes back on her word, she'll die, right? If she dies, Draco won't be able to hold her accountable. So, whether she keeps her word or not makes no difference.

But Prarese didn't remind Draco of this; she admired Draco's desperate attempt to hide his embarrassment after being told the truth.

To be honest, Alecto really gave Prareas a lot of trouble, forcing Prareas to spend about ten minutes calming Draco down.

But Alector's urging wasn't necessarily her own idea, because... the next day, Praris felt the burning pain of the Dark Mark for the first time, slightly less painful than the branding, but still persistent.

“It is the Dark Lord who is summoning you,” Snape said coldly. “But he did not summon me.”

Voldemort's meaning was clear: Snape was not allowed to accompany him to this meeting.

"Now?" Praris exclaimed in surprise. "But it's still daytime!"

Snape nodded with a grim expression.

Both of them realized at the same time that Voldemort was "taming" Prasris—posing a difficult question to test Prasris's loyalty and pushing her limits.

If the summoning is limited to the night, Praris will form a periodic psychological barrier, skillfully erecting mental defenses at night and getting long periods of rest and relaxation during the day.

But this unexpected summons took place during the day, leaving Prasris little time to prepare and face Voldemort in her most authentic form, allowing Voldemort to gain a deeper understanding of her during Legilimency.

After all, Prass's thinking was different from others; her thoughts were far too complex. Although Voldemort hadn't discovered anything wrong with her, there was too little of her personal feelings involved, which Voldemort found insufficient.

After this incident, Praris not only had to prepare for Voldemort's summons at night, but also had to worry about the Dark Mark suddenly burning during the day.

From then on, she could never relax, living in constant anxiety that she might be summoned at any time.

Snape warned, “Miss, I can’t help you. You must calm down as soon as possible, leave the Hogwarts area, Apparate to Malfoy Manor, and face the Dark Lord alone.”

He said he couldn't help Praris, but his next sentence was to break down the whole process, reducing Praris's psychological pressure by breaking down the tasks, and reminding her that she still had time on the road to adjust her state.

Praris nodded calmly: "I understand."

Just now, she had scanned the books on the bookshelf behind Professor Snape, mentally flipping through them and using this stream of knowledge to wash away all the distracting thoughts in her mind.

After saying this, Praris immediately took his leave, turned around and went downstairs, out of the castle, across the lawn, and over the school gate... Ah, he didn't get through.

Groups of Death Eaters and Dementors guarded the school gates. She was spotted by the Death Eaters as soon as she approached the gates—a testament to how closely these people monitored the situation inside the school!

The Death Eater, cloaked in black, glared menacingly at Praris inside the door and shouted, "Hey girl! Didn't your headmaster tell you not to come near here?!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the other Death Eaters burst into laughter, though it was unclear what was so funny.

"Is that so?" Praris smirked, "I've never heard of such a thing. I only remember Mr. Snape instructing me not to delay a moment when summoned by the Dark Lord, didn't he?"

After saying that, she decisively removed her cufflinks, rolled up her sleeves, and arrogantly and mockingly revealed the Dark Lord's mark underneath: "Get out of the way! I guess you don't want to know what the consequences will be for delaying the Dark Lord's business."

Who would have thought? A young, beautiful witch appeared at Hogwarts, clean-cut, just a bit aloof, looking no different from the other students... Turns out she was a new colleague on a mission!

This is so boring!

Praris swaggered through the warthog gate, put on his hood, and Apparated away right in front of them.

During the day, Malfoy Manor doesn't look so dark and terrifying, but it has a gloomy, overcast feel, like the ashen faces of the dead.

Praliss didn't waste a moment, skillfully passing the Dementors and moving forward with a speed that was well-received by Snape, her cloak billowing in the air as she walked.

Mrs. Burstdle was about to greet Snape when she realized something was off about him—wait, who is this?

Prarese ignored Mrs. Burstdle and strode past her to the door of the drawing room they had just met. She stopped, hesitated for a moment, and then reached out and turned the bronze doorknob.

“Master.” Praris bowed slightly to Voldemort. “I’m late.”

Voldemort sat directly in front of the fireplace, with Sylvia, who was tightly wrapped in a cloak, beside him.

In front of the two people was a small white round table with the Nine of Swords on it—representing extreme anxiety, suspicion or distrust, overthinking, and invisible pressure, among other things.

Voldemort stared intently at Prince and uttered, "Prince... you're too late."

“But I have always been tolerant.” Voldemort placed his hand on Sword Nine and said softly, “Tell me—what has held you back?”

Contrary to the “tolerance” in his words, Voldemort scrutinized her gaze.

“Master, I think…” Praris said hesitantly, “those things don’t count as delays, it’s just that I’m not yet skilled enough at answering your summons.”

Through her eyes, Voldemort saw—

Prader first met with Snape and learned that she had to go alone. Then, as she was going down the stairs, a young boy stopped her. The boy said that Madam Pomfrey wanted her to remember to go for her follow-up appointment. Prader agreed, but said she had urgent business to attend to that day and would go later.

The young boy thought Prares was avoiding medical help and pressed her for details. Prares said she had a real emergency and would go to the school infirmary that evening, at which point the boy let her go... Once outside the castle, at the cast-iron gate, she was stopped again by the Death Eaters guarding it, and this time her attitude was worse, and she seemed a bit anxious.

Satisfied that Prince was telling the truth, Voldemort feigned concern and said, "Prince, you seem quite nervous? I just said I would be lenient with you, didn't I—what about your research?"

"Research..." Voldemort's topic changed too quickly, and Praris seemed a little caught off guard, but she quickly adjusted her thoughts. "Master, I have consulted some materials and have initially formed the theoretical foundation for the research on Soul Potions."

After saying this, she took out a large roll of parchment from her crossbody bag and respectfully presented it to Voldemort.

Praris didn't forget to make amends: "Master, I am ashamed - the time spent researching the information was relatively short, and the report I am submitting to you so far is not yet complete."

Was she truly ashamed? Voldemort discovered that she wasn't ashamed at all; it was just empty talk. Deep down, she felt the pressure of time, and the fact that her report wasn't perfect triggered the witch's obsessive-compulsive tendencies, leaving her feeling extremely uncomfortable.

Chapter 277 The Art of Expectation Management

Voldemort saw through the young witch's little scheme, but didn't expose her directly.

Yes, the Death Eaters feared him and didn't believe his words of mercy and grace—a situation Voldemort was happy to see. But in reality, he genuinely believed he possessed such qualities.

There are two kinds of bad people in the world: those who don't think of themselves as bad at all, and those who openly admit they're not good people. Their moral bottom lines aren't necessarily superior or inferior; the only difference is their honesty with themselves.

Voldemort was different from both of them. He despised everything Riddle had given him, including his body, but he was extremely narcissistic about his own soul, to the point of self-deception. He did not deny that he was not a good person, but he believed that every aspect of himself and every part of his soul was absolutely perfect.

Therefore, he felt he had been tolerant enough.

Think about it! Every day, he faced so many two-faced followers, yet he didn't kill them outright. Instead, he offered limited guidance and punishment—could there be a more merciful leader than him?

Voldemort considered all Death Eaters who disagreed with this to be far too greedy and in need of a good talking-to.

At the moment, Praris Prince’s ideas were exactly what a rigorous scholar should think, but she felt that Voldemort’s demands were too high and the time given was too tight—which was not allowed.

Voldemort sized up Praris and hissed, "I've noticed you seem rather dissatisfied... Has my request for your report now displeased you, Praris?"

Like some kind of cold-blooded animal, Voldemort's cold red eyes darted around, his gaze sweeping over Praris as if searching for a suitable place to "bite," causing Praris to shiver almost imperceptibly.

“No!” Praris struggled to remain calm. “Master, I am dissatisfied with myself—dissatisfied with the completeness of the report. Your request indicates that you believed in my ability, but I failed. This reveals my inadequacy!”

Voldemort seemed very interested in her words, and repeated them with great interest: "Insufficient ability?"

“Praris, you are not entirely honest, but your words are comforting enough. That makes me forgive your minor fault.”

At this point, Voldemort deliberately paused, specifically to admire Praris's slight sigh of relief.