HP North Star's Radiance

I will miss you, forever and ever.

Harry stood up, put on the top hat he had been holding—the one he used for missions—then took it off again, bowed, and said, "Goodbye, Professor Dumbledore."

Thank you for us—

"No, it was for me—for everything done for me."

He held this pose for several seconds, his messy black hair falling down, casting a small shadow on his face and concealing the tears welling up in his eyes—the adult wizard wouldn't allow his vulnerability to be seen, even if there was no one else in the room who could "see" him.

In the stillness of the night, it seemed to be an extremely faint gasp, as if coming from the distant King's Cross station.

Harry froze, remaining in that position, his heart pounding and his breath almost stopped. He dared not look up, fearing it was merely a hallucination born of his profound grief.

A faint, hoarse voice rang out—a voice that was both unfamiliar and strangely familiar:

"I've been missing you..."

"...It sounds..."

"...It's like a terrible curse, Harry."

With all his might, Harry slowly raised his head and met those bright, blue eyes... A tear slid down his cheek, and the top hat slipped from his hand and fell to the ground.

At the moment he resolved to accept the loss of Dumbledore, at the moment he said his final goodbye, at the moment he was most vulnerable and hopeless—Dumbledore awoke.

Dumbledore was still lying in his sickbed, but his blue eyes were open, gazing at Harry calmly and kindly.

……

Praris sat on a bench outside the ward, waiting.

Her mind raced, and she devised a plan for Harry; now it was up to him to show his skills.

Frankly, this might not be such a bad thing. If things can be resolved smoothly, offering timely assistance and playing a role during Harry's most controversial moment can be considered a worthwhile investment.

Inappropriately, she recalled a question Heidi had asked: "Platinum, tell me, between Grindelwald and Harry Potter, who was Dumbledore's most important person?"

"I don't know Grindelwald," Prarese said frankly, "but Dumbledore admires Harry."

"Huh?" Heidi didn't understand. "Harry is very capable, but he's still young. Dumbledore was definitely more capable than Harry when he was young. Why would he admire Harry?"

"In Harry's eyes, Dumbledore was amazing," Prarese said. "In Dumbledore's eyes, Harry was amazing—they respected each other, or rather, idolized each other."

"And what about you?" Heidi asked. "You saved them both, do they admire you too?"

“I’m different,” Praris said slowly. “There are two kinds of people in the world who can be called great in terms of personality: saints and madmen. There’s only a fine line between them. If you succeed, you’re a saint; if you fail, you’re a madman. Ah, or rather, they’ve always been madmen, and success makes them saints in the eyes of the world.”

"And I am just an impure person. Even when I do noble things—like you said, saving them countless times—it's all for something very real: to live, or to live better."

Heidi suddenly realized, "The person involved really knows how to eat! But... I still don't understand, isn't someone like you also the 'madman' you're talking about? Being frighteningly lucid, you're madman too, aren't you!"

The old diner in Diagon Alley gave a review that surprised even Praris.

“No, Heidi, you’re mistaken,” Prarese said, shaking his head. “These kinds of people live in what they believe, so they can transcend the fears of ordinary people for the sake of that belief.”

"But I don't believe it," she said. "I don't believe that positive beliefs can save the world, nor do I believe that crazy beliefs—or delusions—can rule everything. I only believe in real things, in what must be done and in how it must be carefully planned to achieve one's goals."

"Perhaps this absolute disbelief is also a form of belief! Yes... perhaps this is also a kind of madness. They are madmen of 'belief,' and I am a madman of 'disbelief.' To persist in 'disbelief' in the face of such madmen of 'belief,' perhaps only a madman like myself can explain this?"

Praris glanced back at the ward.

Actually... she took a gamble today and decided to choose to "believe".

Just like in the war against Voldemort, she had done everything she could—giving Dumbledore the choice to "live," so the rest was beyond her control.

If there is anyone in the world who can awaken Dumbledore, this "madman of belief," it is only another "madman of belief"—Harry.

Anyway, just like Prader always kept a backup plan in mind during the war, she also kept a backup plan when defending Harry. In her world, there are no truly hopeless situations.

Time ticked by, and finally the ward door opened. It was like Pandora's box; until the very last moment, you could never be sure if there was still a glimmer of hope hidden inside.

“Praris.” Harry’s voice trembled slightly.

Had her plan failed? No matter, Praris had already devised a backup plan.

Harry said softly, "You...come in...come in first."

“Okay,” Praris said, “Here it comes.”

She stepped into the ward, closed the door behind her back, met Dumbledore's playful winking blue eyes, and then cast a spell on the door.

"It seems your journey is over," Praris said calmly. "Congratulations on getting home. Go get a check-up."

Dumbledore woke up, but the reporters were unaware of it. Prarese took advantage of the time difference to examine Dumbledore, and the next morning, he swiftly gathered all the senior healers who had just started work, including Alexander Shafik.

Medical records, medication registration, cutting-edge research reviews and regulatory files... everything was prepared and given to the senior therapists for signature and confirmation all at once.

“Any other questions—” Praris asked in a declarative tone, “Therapist Shafik.”

Alexander said nothing and signed several documents, including a consent form.

It wasn't until Dumbledore was discharged from the hospital and Prareus submitted data to the newly established Advanced Potions Research Oversight Committee that everyone learned Dumbledore had awakened. The Daily Prophet could only function as an observer's daily report this time.

Both Praris and Harry took leave—Harry had never taken leave since he started working, and no one could refuse him even once.

"You finally decided to wake up?" Praris teased. "Even extraordinary abilities can't compare to boundless affection!"

How could Dumbledore not understand these things?

He himself has written fanfiction about the four giants!

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” Dumbledore said with a smile, his blue eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “Even better than I expected. It’s a pity—I promised Harry I would accompany him on his final journey.”

“He has severe GRAS,” Prarese said, turning to Harry as he came out of the kitchen carrying some snacks. “He looks much better now.”

Dumbledore said, "It's up to Harry to figure that out himself."

Prareas inwardly scoffed at Dumbledore.

That's what he said! But he woke up for Harry.

"Don't you regret it?" Praris asked. "My abilities are limited, and you are now just an ordinary old wizard with little power. You must live as an ordinary person."

Dumbledore, the "ordinary man," smiled. "No, I have to thank you, Prarese. I clearly felt that those days of weakness were the most peaceful days of my life. You gave me the opportunity to isolate myself from all the noise and be with myself. I have now lost something that seems important—power—but I have gained something else that is more important than power."

Dumbledore 3 (Side Story)

Where the treasure is, there the heart is.

This is the epitaph that Dumbledore personally carved for his sister Ariana.

Some people regard Albus Dumbledore as a god, but he knows that he is a human being, and humans make mistakes and regrets.

In his youth, Dumbledore climbed the stairs of power without ever experiencing the feeling of being powerless, until he crawled out of his own coffin and had to accept that power was uncontrollably leaving his body.

Unlike others, Dumbledore did not panic. There are no free lunches in this world; this was the price that had to be paid for ultimate victory. He simply observed his own body quietly, determining how his power limits were receding.

His power no longer allowed him to squander it recklessly. He could no longer easily solve problems with silent, wandless magic and had to calculate the consumption of magic power like other ordinary wizards.

He secretly followed Harry's actions, but could no longer offer advice or help Harry at will. He could only watch helplessly as Harry and his friends fell down and stubbornly got back up, witnessing Harry's growth and extraordinary courage.

Yes, Dumbledore initially saw it as a price to pay. But gradually, he realized he was wrong. It was not a price to pay, but a gift from fate to Albus.

As the extraordinary power receded from Albus's body like a tide, he gradually began to face the world like an ordinary person, experiencing the helplessness and resilience of ordinary people when facing difficulties, and even being protected by children.

In early November, Albus rescued several Muggle-born wizards, unleashing the spells that bound them and freeing them all.

At that time, he was practicing how to control his current magical power and deal with attacks efficiently. So he volunteered to stay behind to cover the rear so that the others could run.

After a few rounds, Dumbledore finished his practice and prepared to eliminate the group of search party all at once. Unexpectedly, he heard hurried footsteps behind him: "Thunderous Explosion!"

A spell blasted the search party apart, and then someone grabbed Dumbledore and ran off quickly.

"Meryl!" Mr. Tonks cried out, his body running ahead while his soul chased after him. "How can you run so fast? I can't keep up with you!"

"Saving people requires speed, otherwise what are you saving!" Meryl was quick in both action and speech. "Thank you for saving us. What's your name?"

"You just saved me, I should be thanking you," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Brian Walder."

"You don't need to thank me. I don't save just anyone," Meryl said bluntly. "But you saved me, I found the wand, and I still have some strength. Wouldn't it be ungrateful to just run away? Mr. Wald, since we can't beat you, let's not be stubborn and just run—only by staying alive can we have a chance."

Mr. Tonks chimed in, "Meryl has a good heart; she cares about you."

Meryl pursed her lips, seemingly disliking Mr. Tonks's statement, but accepted it nonetheless.

Albus watched Meryl with a smile. How magical and wonderful it was that an ordinary student who hadn't graduated rushed out to protect Dumbledore and teach him a lesson for running away when he couldn't win.

At the end of his life, Dumbledore descended the Ladder of Power, gradually becoming the original Albus. In the process of losing his power, he slowly saw many sights he had never seen before and felt emotions he had never felt before.

Aberforth seemed to have mixed feelings about Albus's changes.

At first, he didn't notice the problem with Albus, at most thinking it was just some injury. It wasn't until later, when the problem with Albus could no longer be concealed, that he was surprised and angry to discover that his brother was no longer the genius with extraordinary power, but a "person" who would age and become powerless just like himself.

Albus had no idea what strange things Abufo was thinking. He was surprised to find his brother, whom he hated so much, had come to him. Somewhat stiffly, he asked, "Hey, is there any cure for your condition?"

He stared intently at Aberforth, smiled, and shook his head: "Aberforth, I can't have everything."

Just like how he couldn't be with Ariana and build a great career at the same time.

This is a price to pay, a punishment for him, but also the best gift for him in his twilight years.

The accusations and indiscriminate attacks that Aberforth was accustomed to suddenly fell flat, revealing a sense of bewilderment and helplessness, like an Auror who had been chasing an enemy for decades being suddenly forced to retire.

Aberforth resented his genius brother who neglected his family for his career, and the radiant Albus Dumbledore. But Albus was no longer the omnipotent and ruthless Albus. He willingly stepped down from his pedestal and accepted his loss with equanimity.

Aberforth's anger and hatred cannot be persuaded or erased by any sweet talk, but what if it is a cruel reality?

He sat before Ariana's portrait, unconsciously wiping the dirty glass in his hand, muttering to himself, "He...he looks terrible, Anna."

"Is this what I wanted?"

"I feel so strange... I'm not happy at all."

A deep, profound weariness suddenly washed over Aberforth. He had hated Albus his entire life, resorting to all sorts of accusations, insults, punches, and kicks, only to find himself suddenly realizing he had stumbled into thin air and didn't know who to hate.

Ariana in the portrait couldn't answer Aberforth; she simply smiled gently and silently. In this eternal silence, Aberforth could only hear the voice of his own heart.

On Christmas Eve, when the weakened Dumbledore collapsed in the Hog's Head, Aberforth had already given his answer with his actions. He rushed upstairs to get the first-aid kit as soon as Prareth shouted, not daring to linger for a moment.

Praris was treating Aberforth, who could only stand by, grumbling and making sarcastic remarks, when suddenly he met Aberforth's calm and gentle eyes...

He discovered it.

He realized he had already forgiven him.

That damn sick chicken's brain is spinning fast right now!