HP North Star's Radiance

“As for Potter, I’ll make him pay,” Malfoy said. “I swear.”

Pansy took a handkerchief and stepped forward to help Malfoy wipe the raindrops off his clothes, but he pushed her away.

His face was gloomy, and he walked out without looking back, bumping into Praris at the door and causing him to stumble.

Praris sighed, "Don't overthink it. The rain is too heavy; it's normal not to see."

“But Potter saw it!” Marcus couldn’t help but shout again.

Miles grabbed the captain and said repeatedly, "Never mind, never mind!"

"I don't need your comfort!" Malfoy said, turning and walking away.

Slytherin is in terrible shape right now; they lost this year's Quidditch tournament, and Malfoy is unhappy.

Malfoy was unhappy, so Pansy, Crabbe, and Goyle were unhappy. Pansy was unhappy, so Daphne was unhappy. Both of them in the dorm were unhappy, so Millison was unhappy too.

Milison was unhappy, and Praris became depressed as well.

She had something even more frustrating to do: she had to prepare to face Professor Snape's questioning.

------

Inside the potions office, candlelight cast shadows on various sophisticated instruments.

Snape sat at the lab table, stroking a note with his own handwriting on it, no doubt about it.

Yesterday afternoon, Mrs. Pince approached him and advised him against exposing his students to advanced black magic so early: "I think you have your reasons, but this is not a good idea. Young students may not be able to resist the temptation of black magic."

Clearly, she kept the approval slip.

Writing the approval note was a test for him; he wanted to see her abilities, her ambition, and her courage.

Indeed, they were bold enough to dare to do something under his nose.

But she was too greedy, wanting everything and unable to control herself. Like Hill, she was reckless, acting without considering the consequences, always assuming someone would clean up her messes, so she was fearless!

Snape looked away and glanced at the book "A Midsummer Night's Dream" on the bookshelf.

Yes, he was taking his anger out on her, but so what? He waited, waiting to see how she would try to justify herself.

There was a gentle knock on the office door.

“Come in,” Snape’s voice remained as calm and cold as ever.

“Professor,” Praris said, trying to remain calm, “Farley said you wanted to see me.”

Farley knew this was unusual. Professor Snape could find Prader without going through a second person; he could simply wait in his office and his assistant would be there.

Snape didn't answer her question immediately, but stood up. His black robes swept past Praris like a dark cloud, all the way to the fireplace.

The approval slip was thrown into the flames in her sight and burned to ashes in a few seconds.

“Miss Praris, don’t you have anything to say?” he asked, his back to Praris, his hands clasped behind his back.

Prarese knew that all her lies would be exposed in front of Snape, but she also knew that some things just couldn't be said.

She straightened up, took two steps forward, and said in an unwavering tone, "I assume this was your tacit approval when you put the note in the book. Returning a book doesn't require a note, does it? Only borrowing a book does."

Snape turned to face her, raising an eyebrow slightly: "So it seems this is your old professor's fault? Because he's old and frail and his eyesight is failing, he mistakenly gave you a slip of paper, so you can just go ahead and use it?"

“I’m sorry,” Praris said, bowing her head. “Next time I will ask for your opinion.”

“Next time? You were in there for three hours!” Snape’s voice held a hint of suppressed emotion. “Who do you think you are? Dumbledore?”

"I think I gave you the wrong three books. I also feel that your two Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers haven't taught anything useful. What do you take dark magic for? Those little tricks that make feathers fly?"

“I know that people like you believe that knowledge has no inherent good or evil, only how you use it. You also believe that you can resist temptation through willpower. If you were seventeen, I would think you were quite courageous, but don’t forget that you are still a student, a student who is not yet an adult!”

Praris lowered his head even further, not daring to utter a sound.

Snape turned and walked to the desk, sat down, and looked at her intently. "Next time you need to access the restricted section, come directly to me. Don't let me find out you've used my permission slip without permission a second time."

Praris looked up at him in astonishment and met the professor's dark eyes.

“Of course, it can’t exceed half an hour.” Snape’s lips moved almost imperceptibly. “I will write it on every single approval slip.”

Praris nodded emphatically: "I will."

Having finished scolding and educating, Praris finally walked out of the office.

Apart from that conversation after the end of last semester, she had never felt that time in the office could be so long.

Prarese walked around the corner and pulled Lockhart's fancy signature from his crossbody bag: "A single spark can start a prairie fire."

Chapter 32 Potions Class Chaos

A spark ignited the parchment on the wand, and it slowly burned to ashes.

She no longer needed this unexpected approval slip.

Praris sat on the sofa in the common room, the fireplace crackling but failing to attract her attention in the slightest.

She closed her eyes, and the restricted section of Hogwarts Library came to mind. Every pattern and every word on those books she had once read was still clearly visible.

The deeper parts, which we haven't been to, are shrouded in a gray mist and cannot be explored.

The book "Cursed Black Magic Items" states: "Some black magic items can establish a spiritual connection with their wielders..."

"The spiritual connection created by dark magic items can influence the holder, tempting their mind and affecting their intellect. Due to their immature minds, this effect is more pronounced in adolescent wizards."

"The longer you are in contact with dark magic items, the deeper this mental penetration becomes, and it takes longer to completely get rid of the influence."

This must be why Mrs. Pince sought out her parents and why Professor Snape criticized her so harshly.

Praris continued flipping through the pages, only to find that the book was instructing users on how to create dark magic items capable of influencing the minds of others.

No wonder this book was placed in the restricted section.

Beyond these "tutorials," Prarese continued her search for clues.

"Clearly, most evil dark magic items can only affect a person's mind. But some more powerful dark magic items can even control a person's mind and then manipulate their behavior in reality."

“We can identify manipulated individuals through the following characteristics: large gaps in memory, behavior that is inconsistent with their personality, and a progressively weakening body.”

"The first two need no further explanation, but the last characteristic needs to be emphasized. Magic involving death is the most evil magic, and black magic items related to soul magic have strong activity and personal consciousness."

"According to the Gamp Transformation Law, we know that the transfer of magical power is fair and cannot be created out of thin air. The power of black magic items related to soul magic is limited at the time of their creation and is constantly being lost during their existence."

"Therefore, some of these magical items will subtly absorb the power of their holders in order to maintain their own long-term existence."

Praris leaned back on the sofa, tilted her head back, and blinked. Her expression turned serious, and her brows furrowed.

The truth about Ginny Weasley is becoming clearer, like the clouds parting to reveal the moon.

The little girl obtained a dark magic notebook related to souls. The notebook tempted her, and perhaps even controlled her, causing her to commit evil deeds. At the same time, the notebook was also draining her life force and threatening her safety.

As for the heir... Praris recalled what he had seen and heard on the eve of Halloween.

The notebook was created by either an heir or one of the people who witnessed the locked-room incident.

However, Praris quickly ruled out the latter, arguing that if witnessing the secret chamber was enough to open it, then the secret chamber was not considered the exclusive property of the heir.

The matter stalled again. What actions did the notebook manipulate Ginny to take? What kind of creature attacked Mrs. Lorris? What was the connection between this and the washroom and the puddle of water in front of the washroom door?

And... should she intervene in the notebook's persecution of Ginny Weasley?

Are you kidding me! She's a Slytherin!

Prairie, Prairie, have you forgotten how Weasley spoke so arrogantly to you? Have you forgotten how he beat up your companions? Have you forgotten how the Gryffindors gave Professor Snape nicknames?

She deliberately ignored the fact that the latter two involved Malfoy's own provocation and Professor Snape's bias.

"Play, aren't you going to eat?" Millison waved his hand in front of her. "You're not planning to skip dinner again, are you?"

"When did I...?"

Praris blurted out the words, then abruptly slammed on the brakes and swallowed them back.

"Oh, you're not trying to say when you haven't eaten, are you? You generously gave Malfoy your buttered bread on Saturday morning, and then couldn't find Miss Prince at noon on Saturday?"

Millison poked her stomach: "Are you made of iron?"

Thankfully, Praris didn't have ticklish spots, otherwise she would have curled up in a ball.

Praris was led by Millison to the dining table, where dinner consisted of stewed lamb leg and Scotch eggs.

Making Scotch eggs is very simple. First, wrap a soft-boiled egg in minced meat, then sprinkle breadcrumbs on the outside of the minced meat, and finally deep-fry it to achieve a crispy outside and tender inside effect.

The sullen Malfoy stood in stark contrast to the voracious appetite of Praris.

His gaze was fixed on the void, and he kept stabbing the lamb leg with his fork.

Prareas would bet he mistook that poor leg of lamb for Potter's head.

Pansy frantically tried to signal Praris with her eyes, but Praris lowered her head and refused her signals.

Pansy coughed twice, and Praris looked up and said, "Would you like some apple juice?"

"I won't drink it!" Pansy said through gritted teeth.

Prarese turned the hand holding the apple juice toward Malfoy: "Then you drink it."

Still lost in thought, Malfoy instinctively took the apple juice and took a sip, nearly spitting it out, coughing wildly: "Cough, cough, you..."

"Sour? That's right, sour," Praris said calmly. "Remember this, this is how you feel right now. Keep this sour feeling in mind, and remind yourself not to get distracted like you did in the next match, not even knowing what you're eating."

"What do you know—"

“Ah, yes, I don’t understand.” Praris’s smile was as sharp as it could be. “Of course I don’t understand what it feels like to lose to someone, because I’ve never lost.”

“I’m not like some people who can’t even eat after losing a game and stay here like a vengeful ghost,” Praris raised an eyebrow. “If you really care that much—then cheer up. Do you think complaining will make things better? Absolutely not. But pull yourself together and move forward; you still have a chance.”

After saying that, Praris ignored him and turned to Milison, asking, "I want to eat half a butter custard. Would you like the other half?"

Millison said blankly, "Oh, of course."

At the other end of the table, the older Slytherins wore complex expressions.

Miles remarked, "How terrifying! No wonder you're the professor's assistant, Marcus. You must have it tough."

Marcus thought Miles was referring to his time as Prarese's student last year, and nodded emphatically: "It was certainly not easy, but she was mostly very friendly and gentle."

Marcus tries to maintain the non-existent gentleness of his conjugate teacher.

As mentioned before, Slytherin classes are concentrated on Wednesdays, with only Herbalism in the afternoon on Mondays.