HP North Star's Radiance

After a few seconds of adjustment, Little Star finally stopped "vomiting"—the medicine was taking effect.

Unlike the first time, Peter Pettigrew's magic became even more powerful, going beyond its strange smoothness! He could now unleash even greater power with the same spell.

Praris had anticipated this. She said calmly, "Master, this is the power of unity."

“The power of unity.” Voldemort chewed on Praris’s words, a look of surprise in his eyes.

This is truly an unexpected delight!

Voldemort's original goal was merely to repair his soul, but he has inadvertently gained even greater power.

After Peter Pettigrew was kicked out, Praris smiled and explained, "Currently, this potion—which I call Soul-Gathering Potion—can generate a powerful cohesive force within the soul, causing it to converge from the outside in, binding all loose structures together tightly, and allowing the individual to unleash greater power."

On the basis of making people more calm and rational, the soul is solidified like a foundation, and truly condensed together!

Voldemort's eyes were filled with greed and desire. He couldn't wait to find an excuse, so he immediately dismissed Praris and decided to try this legendary potion, which was about to go down in history, himself.

Voldemort hesitated for a moment on this matter: what if he left no one behind and something went wrong? What if he left people behind and his men became disloyal?

Weighing the pros and cons, Voldemort trusted himself more than anyone else. He didn't think any of his men would genuinely want to save him if something happened to him.

Voldemort picked up the second vial that Prareth had prepared, drank it all in one gulp, and soon realized that neither Prareth nor Pettigrew had lied to him.

If this potion were ranked in terms of how unpleasant it tastes, it would undoubtedly be among the worst. And by "worst," I mean, without a doubt, a poison.

The moment the drug took effect, Voldemort found that all the annoying noises, such as distant interference from other Horcruxes, were "filtered out," like a mirror wiping away moisture, gaining a gentle calm.

Although the "noise" had disappeared, the connections between the Horcruxes had become even stronger. Voldemort had come to the conclusion that he could easily make things difficult for Harry Potter by simply pulling on the strings himself!

At the same time, the sense of loss caused by the destruction of the Horcruxes was greatly reduced, and Voldemort could feel himself being repaired with perfect clarity.

Ah—the long-lost power did not come from an external object like the Elder Wand, but from within his own body!

Now that Voldemort possesses both the powerful Elder Wand and a powerful ego, what is Harry Potter compared to him?

Chapter 290 Voldemort's Reward

When Heaven wishes to destroy someone, it first makes them mad.

At the moment he drank the Soul-Gathering Potion, Voldemort's soul collapsed and tightened rapidly inward, forming a powerful gravitational field that forcefully pulled at his two scattered fragments, allowing his soul's integrity to reach its highest possible peak in a short period of time.

When others are calm and clear-headed, they are better able to control their thoughts and actions, and Voldemort was no exception.

But don't forget, his calmest and most clear-headed moments were before he began splitting his soul. Back then, he did things like raising snake monsters to kill his classmates, framing Hagrid, establishing the Volpugis Knights, and killing people and splitting their souls to create Horcruxes.

The Soul-Gathering Potion is like an alternative Mirror of Erised, reflecting the darkest, most hidden corners of a person's soul.

Peter Pettigrew is a bastard traitor, that much is undeniable. But the reason he was expected to become a Gryffindor by the Sorting Hat was because there was still a glimmer of goodness in his heart, which just never fully blossomed.

The clarity brought on by the Soul-Gathering Elixir allowed Death Eater Peter to see his student Peter again, even better, stronger, calmer, clearer-headed, and more charismatic. It enabled him to see beyond the complexities and recognize his true self—something Peter Pettigrew had never been able to do all these years.

The same potion led Voldemort to see Tom Riddle, a calm, rational, ambitious, and driven version of himself.

The initial function of the Soul-Condensing Agent is shielding, eliminating complexity; its ultimate purpose is activation, the latter being the primary function. But how do we define "complexity," and how do we define "activation"?

Not everyone's inner "true self" is inherently good. Voldemort, for example, had no concept of kindness, and no matter how much he tried to awaken it, he would never suddenly become a good person.

Speaking of which... imagine a kind-hearted Voldemort... ugh! How weird!

At this moment, Voldemort has reached the pinnacle of his abilities. After the peak, it's all downhill.

Outside the door, Praris stood on the left, arms crossed, leaning against the wall. Peter Pettigrew stood on the right, arms clasped over his stomach, hunched over.

“P...Prareth,” Peter Pettigrew stammered.

Praris glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and said calmly, "It's Prince."

In short, he subtly created distance between them, not giving Little Pettigrew a chance to get closer.

“Prince,” Little Pettigrew obediently changed his address, “I have a question, I don’t know if I can ask it…”

Praris said coldly, "If you don't know, then don't ask."

If you don't want to take responsibility for potentially asking the wrong question, then don't speak at all. And why should the person being questioned agree and bear the responsibility of forgiving the questioner when they know nothing about it? Even if there is a reason, someone like Little Star isn't on Praris's list of forgiveness.

Pettigrew hesitated, glancing at her again and again, before finally unable to hold back any longer and asking, "Have you...have you drunk your potion?"

Praris glanced at him and said in a strange tone, "If I heard you correctly—you're asking a chef if he's ever eaten his own cooking?"

“No, no, no, I mean…” Little Pettigrew swallowed and pointed to the door behind him, “the one I just drank.”

Praris calmly replied, "No, and it's not necessary."

"Don't you...don't you even have the slightest thought about it?" Little Star clutched his tattered robe, almost tearing it apart. "This is something the Dark Lord also wants."

Does Little Pettigrew really consider Praris an ordinary colleague? He actually talks to her about this kind of thing!

Praris guessed that Little Pettigrew had probably suffered too much discrimination, and that someone as relatively normal as himself was enough to give him unnecessary illusions. But this guy's discrimination was also karma—who would respect someone who betrayed their friend?

If Voldemort ordered Prasris to betray Milison, Prasris might agree out of a will to survive and out of gratitude for Professor Snape's guarantee, but he would also go to great lengths to inform Milison and find ways to give her a chance to live.

After all, under this setup, if she died, Voldemort wouldn't let Milison go. But as long as she lived, he wouldn't allow Milison to be killed.

However, Pettigrew did not. As far as Prarese knew, Pettigrew's friends were unaware that he had betrayed them to Voldemort until the night Professor Snape was in danger.

“A person’s desires determine what kind of person he will become and what choices he will make.” Praris looked up at the intricately carved ceiling of the corridor and said softly, “I have no interest in drinking it because what I want is something that potions can provide, and not just something that potions can provide.”

This statement can be interpreted in countless ways by a thousand different people.

Prass had timed it perfectly; Voldemort was currently in the experimental period for the drug. But regardless of whether there were eavesdroppers, she habitually made thorough preparations to ensure that her words would have different effects on Peter Pettigrew and Voldemort.

Peter Pettigrew, pale-faced, slowly lowered his head. Did it sting? Yes. His current predicament was all driven by his own desires. He desperately wanted to live, and he craved power. He got what he wanted, and ultimately, he succumbed to fear and the power beneath him.

But now... now he has a way to gain power, doesn't he?

Little Pettigrew worships the powerful, and another powerful person now stands beside him—the little witch before him, as young and beautiful as Lily and Sylvia were back then.

The silver hand Voldemort had given him was still firmly fixed to his arm, so Pettigrew naturally dared not harbor the slightest disloyalty towards Voldemort. But he also clearly saw Voldemort's desire—even Voldemort needed this girl, and needed her potions to make himself stronger!

Sirius Black wanted nothing more than to tear him to pieces, so much so that now, every time he goes on a mission, Sirius remembers to wear a mask and cover himself up completely. But even so, Sirius, like a long-nosed dog, still caught the scent of cowardice on him and chased after him to kill him.

What if he could get a small bottle of Soul-Gathering Potion? Little Pettigrew couldn't help but let his imagination run wild, but the witch's serious profile beside him made Little Pettigrew feel as if he had been doused with a bucket of cold water.

"If your master gives it to you, then you're in luck. If your master doesn't give it to you, then you'd better just watch!"

Praris noticed Peter Pettigrew's changing mood, but she lowered her eyelids without showing any emotion.

Timing it perfectly, Praris lowered her arms and slowly straightened up. Pettigrew didn't know why she suddenly made this movement, but his intuition pulled him out of his thoughts.

Sure enough, about ten seconds later, the door behind him opened automatically, and Voldemort's voice came from inside—"Come in."

Praris walked in with his head down but back straight, his face calm, and bowed: "Master."

“Good, very good.” Voldemort was still as particular about rituals as ever. He said softly, “You have given me a big surprise on this special holiday—Easter.”

Voldemort had always been proud of his resurrection, believing it to be the result of his foresight, a near-victory over Death. He never considered that if he hadn't researched Horcruxes and indiscriminately killed innocents, he could have avoided dying so young—which is considered young for a wizard.

It's like a murderer leaving himself a plane ticket to escape the country before committing the crime, celebrating his successful escape, without ever considering that as long as he doesn't kill again, he won't be hunted down. For the rest of his life, he will have to live cautiously because of his criminal record.

“Congratulations, Master!” Praris raised his head, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “This is an important step for us on this… great journey. I believe it is all thanks to your guiding advice on the path and direction of my research. It is because of your instructions and encouragement that I was able to begin my research and achieve this milestone!”

That was such a beautiful remark, and Voldemort clearly knew that everything she said was true. It successfully made his previous self-deceiving lies seem real, and it touched people's hearts deeply.

"Alright, alright, I've always been a fair person when it comes to rewards and punishments." Hearing this good news, Voldemort's tone softened considerably. "Plares, let me hear what reward you want?"

Praris seemed to pause for a moment before speaking: "Master, what you promised me... is already exciting enough, how could I possibly ask for more?"

As soon as she finished speaking, a barely perceptible glint flashed in Voldemort's eyes. He was a man of great memory, almost forgetting the impossible promise he had made to the witch, yet Praris still remembered it.

—I've already given you a rosy picture, how dare you actually intend to take it?

Voldemort held the vial, gently wiping away a speck of dirt from the glass with his thumb, and said slowly but authoritatively, "That's too far off... As a great contributor, how can I let your reward arrive so late? Tell me something else."

To Peter Pettigrew's great surprise, Praris shook his head and refused Voldemort's offer: "No, Master."

Her gaze was unwavering, revealing an extraordinary fervor burning beneath her calm exterior, as eerie as a flame burning beneath ice.

“My success is not my success.” Prarese ignored Voldemort’s subtle emotional shift after her rejection and said calmly, “As I said before, without you, I would never have thought of this research goal, nor would I have embarked on such an extraordinary path. Rather than calling it my success, it is more accurate to say that it is proof of your unique strategic vision.”

Voldemort's emotions underwent an extremely subtle change, imperceptible to ordinary people, but Prasris could; she sensed Voldemort's pleasure.

Emotional escalation is like riding a roller coaster. What intensifies fear isn't the relentless threat—that leads to diminishing returns to normalcy—but rather the few seconds of pause at the top of the hill, which brings the emotion back to its starting point before pulling it up again, creating a huge drop.

Praris paused deliberately to allow Voldemort's glee to subside slightly before speaking again: "You are the one who devised the strategy, and I am merely an insignificant executor of your great will. Throughout history, there have been many capable people, but few who know how to do things."

Her eyes were filled with fervent loyalty: "Being fortunate enough to follow you already sets me apart from ordinary potion scholars, how could I possibly ask for more?"

The same polite refusal, "How could you possibly ask for more?", took on a completely different meaning in the ears of the two people present.

For Voldemort, failing to kill Harry multiple times demonstrated his defeat; he even had to admit in a meeting that it was his own carelessness, just to emphasize that Harry Potter was not invincible and to salvage some morale. But with Prader, Voldemort transformed into a wise and far-sighted leader.

Anyone standing here, after hearing these words, would have to agree that everything should be attributed to Voldemort. After all, even such an unprecedentedly innovative talent believed that her innovation was actually Voldemort's innovation.

As Draco said in fifth grade, Voldemort didn't care how many NEWT certificates he had; he cared more about the loyalty of his subordinates and how they served him.

Bellatrix achieved a core position earlier than the genius Snape. Snape only truly became Voldemort's most valued Death Eater after betraying Dumbledore as a spy.

All of this proves one point: talent is important, but loyalty is even more crucial, and a loyal genius surpasses both. Furthermore, things easily obtained are not cherished; loyalty gained through conquest is far more valuable than loyalty earned from the outset. This proves that what made Praris loyal was not fear, not money or power, but Voldemort's personal charisma.

Think about it: a genius who doesn't crave material things, doesn't pursue power, and isn't particularly afraid of Voldemort; her only desire is to reach the pinnacle of potion research. Now, she says she admires you; you are her guiding light on this path!

Compared to the shallow loyalty of other Death Eaters, this bond of pure ideals and beliefs is undoubtedly more solid and valuable.

“I have been waiting…all this time. Now, Praris, I am delighted to see your growth.” Voldemort hissed. “You have come to fully understand all of this, unlike your other muddle-headed companions, and have glimpsed a true path to the end of a great ideal…This is your fortune, and your wisdom.”

“You do not seek rewards, yet I will grant you everything you deserve. Most people spend their entire lives pursuing power, only to see its shadow. Now, I give you the opportunity to touch real power—from this day forward, Praris, you are directly responsible to me.”

Chapter 291 A Beautiful Dream

If it were an ordinary Death Eater, upon hearing Voldemort's words, they would most likely think of the maximum benefit they could gain. They might desire power, status, money, fame, strength, or tools for self-protection, and so on.

But Praris was different from ordinary Death Eaters; he made a different choice and refused to accept any of Voldemort's rewards.

Because he does not contend, no one in the world can contend with him. Bassanio, tempted by gold and silver boxes, chose the seemingly worthless lead box, thus gaining a treasure far more precious than gold and silver—Portia's appreciation.

Among the devotees who frequented the monastery, one lady once taught her daughter during a charity event: "My dear, if a hungry beggar asks you for money, you should give him bread. If he asks you for bread, you can give him money."

There's a lot more to it than meets the eye. Simply put, it's a screening mechanism that uses reverse thinking and unconventional methods to identify those who truly need help.

Prasris's lack of assertiveness and her deliberate refusal gave Voldemort the illusion that he was selecting her, subconsciously increasing his "valuation" of her. She relinquished tangible, actively sought-after benefits in exchange for the more valuable, intangible, passively bestowed trust and extraordinary status from Voldemort. This was something impossible to obtain by directly demanding rewards.

The ultimate goal of this strategy is not simply to refuse, but to accept at the right time after the goal has been achieved—the initial refusal makes this acceptance all the more significant.

Praris's eyes held a mixture of surprise and reverence as he solemnly bowed his head to accept Voldemort's reward: "Yes! I will not disappoint my master's expectations!"