HP North Star's Radiance

Auror Harry's hard-won holiday was over, and he had to return to London.

As for Albus? He will be leaving for a short time and will return soon. Aberforth looked both reluctant and secretly pleased, as if a consensus had already been reached that he was happy to see.

As for Prareus... who can trust a seemingly strong but actually weak Dumbledore to run around freely?

Nurmengard.

“Dumbledore, I’m glad you’re awake,” said the warden. “I thought it was necessary for you to see Grindelwald, given that you recently ended a war. Prevention is better than cure—I understand. But you can rest assured, everything is fine, and no one has taken advantage of the chaos to break in.”

Albus listened to the prison warden's rambling, but didn't actually hear a word he said; he simply nodded calmly.

Praris asked calmly, "Aren't you taking me?"

“I don’t need to take you,” Dumbledore said confidently.

Seeing that her vicious ex-boyfriend could be so at ease, Praris was truly impressed: "OK, I'll wait for you here."

Nurmengard remained unchanged, without even an elevator; one could only ascend floor by floor. He remembered someone telling him that they dared not make any changes, lest problems arise. Dumbledore recalled his reply at the time being something like, "It wouldn't matter if we changed it; Grindelwald isn't coming out."

He swore he was telling the truth, but officials from the International Federation of Wizards thought he was joking, so Nurmengard remained exactly as it was.

“We’re here, Dumbledore,” said the prison warden. “See? I told you there would be no problem.”

Dumbledore made a gentle yet undeniable request: "Give me some time."

The prison warden frowned, but still said matter-of-factly, "You're Dumbledore, there's nothing you can't do... I'll be back in half an hour."

When the prison warden mentioned the word "Dumbledore," the old man sitting listlessly in his cell immediately opened his eyes.

Dumbledore stood outside the cell, while Grindelwald sat inside. The thin layer of bars separated them, yet more than half a century had passed. With the relentless passage of time, they had both changed, becoming strangers to each other.

Upon seeing Dumbledore, Grindelwald's first reaction was shock and rage—no one could expect him to remain calm upon seeing a powerless Dumbledore.

But this intense emotion lasted only a second. Nothing in the world could be more terrifying than this; Grindelwald couldn't think of anyone who could reduce Dumbledore to "mortal" status except Dumbledore himself.

Knowing too much is a tragedy.

Dumbledore said nothing, but Grindelwald knew everything. Grindelwald said nothing, but Dumbledore knew he knew. So much so that Grindelwald couldn't even feign ignorance.

“Even I…” Grindelwald’s voice was hoarse, so low it was almost inaudible, “means nothing to you anymore?”

Dumbledore stood there, his blue eyes wide open, his face calm, his gaze complex. He said nothing, yet everything was said.

Throughout his life, he consciously fought against his desires. Grindelwald was precisely his desires themselves; this man ignited his pursuit of power and his yearning for love.

If Dumbledore couldn't completely reconcile with his own desires and obsessions, he wouldn't have dared to stand before Grindelwald. Rather than saying Grindelwald was avoiding the meeting, it's more accurate to say that both of them were avoiding this encounter.

Grindelwald let out a rather short laugh, as if he had choked. He turned quickly to face the wall, as if unwilling to look at Dumbledore.

How cruel! Dumbledore was kind to the whole world, yet so cruel to himself! He left so gracefully and completely, but left himself behind forever.

Grindelwald once said to Dumbledore, "Who will love you anymore?"

The question bounced back at Grindelwald like a boomerang: "Who will still love me?"

Suddenly, Grindelwald looked up, his eyes widened, and he turned around quickly, only to find that Dumbledore's robes had disappeared around the corner of the stairs.

If Dumbledore didn't love, or even never loved, Grindelwald, he wouldn't have come to Nurmengard at all—yet he did. He even needed to stand before Grindelwald to tell himself whether he had truly let go.

Grindelwald realized that it wasn't a reassuring look. Dumbledore stood there, unsure how to answer Grindelwald. He had loved Grindelwald then, and he still loved him now, but this love was no longer a desire to be wary of, but a monument to be commemorated.

But his discovery came too late, always too late.

If their meeting was a mistake, then their parting was a mistake as well. They were forever missing each other through mistakes, while only Dumbledore alone sought a true self through repeated errors.

“I didn’t expect it to be true,” Praris said with a laugh. “I thought it was something those writers made up.”

Dumbledore smiled calmly: "Really."

He can talk about it as if it were someone else's story.

"Do you hate him that much? Wouldn't that be too cruel to Grindelwald?" Praris asked. "The two people who know you best in the world are your lover and your enemy. You are both lovers and enemies, can he accept that?"

If those rumors were true, how could someone as obsessive and proud as Grindelwald accept that he was nothing to Dumbledore?

"Accept what?" Dumbledore asked.

Prarese said, "I am dispensable."

“It’s not that it’s dispensable,” Dumbledore said. “Letting go doesn’t mean it’s unimportant. You know that best, don’t you?”

Praris paused for a moment, then clicked his tongue in amazement: "You're a terrible fellow who's both kind and cruel."

She was talking about Dumbledore, and also about herself.

Dumbledore smiled gently, as if accepting the highest praise: "Aren't you one too?"

“Prareth, your restraint is admirable, but your emphasis on feelings is also touching,” Dumbledore said meaningfully. “Therefore, I must remind you that feelings are not just feelings; they also include the path you are about to embark on together.”

"The partner you choose will influence what scenery you see at every crossroads in your life, and it will also influence where you ultimately go."

Dumbledore had high hopes for Prasris, expecting to see Slytherin's new "leader" guide the Slytherin toward a better future.

Praliss's partner is Draco. This has both advantages and disadvantages. Draco represents the old order, and the complex intertwining of bloodlines, wealth, and power within that order. This dictates that she must maintain a high degree of restraint and rationality in this relationship.

Love is the most powerful magic in the world, but it is also the most dangerous aphrodisiac.

Praris stopped and suddenly asked, "Is that your true feeling, or the feeling you want Grindelwald to see?"

Dumbledore asked, "Is there a difference?"

Only Dumbledore knows what Dumbledore is thinking, so what he shows is the truth.

“So you’re both kind and cruel,” Praris shook his head.

This time, Dumbledore didn't ask the question.

Bonus Chapter: Praris's Wedding

Draco and Prareas are getting married, a fact that is both joyful and unpleasant for the Malfoys.

The most unpleasant thing is that Prarese is of mixed race. Thankfully, apart from that, she is beyond reproach, even excessively so.

“We can declare that she’s a pureblood,” Narcissa said decisively. “Who would be foolish enough to offend Praris now?”

The facts are completely irrelevant; the inevitable result is that people will believe or be forced to believe.

Upon learning that Prarese was getting married, Marcus lent his "cousin" cookies to clean the Malfoy estate, and he himself decided to come and help with the wedding.

“Stey originally wanted to come and help you plan your wedding,” Marcus said, carrying a table in each hand, “but she couldn’t leave.”

The table in his hand floated up, and Winnie appeared behind it: "Big guy, you're a wizard."

Marcus chuckled sheepishly.

Praris waved his hand and said, "It's alright, as long as she can make it to the wedding."

"Do you have enough people for your wedding?" Marcus asked with concern. "Crawb, Gore, Nott, and Zabini will probably all be there, right? I remember they're quite close to Draco."

The fathers of the first three all went to Azkaban for further studies. Zabini was fortunate that both his biological father and stepfather were dead, so he didn't have to suffer such misfortune—that's what Pansy said.

Goyle was alright, but Crabbe's attitude towards Draco in sixth and seventh grade was rather hostile. After the war, Crabbe's attitude did a complete 180-degree turn, and he and Goyle became close again.

Prareas said, "You clearly know..."

Draco grew up quickly, and he said nonchalantly, "My mother always said that sometimes you need to be a little oblivious."

Knowing that Draco was aware of the situation, Praderes never brought it up again. She wouldn't overstep her bounds and make decisions for Draco just because she was capable.

As for Nott and Zabini, both despised blood traitors and Muggle bloods. The former was quite outspoken, preferring to ignore them. The latter, because of Pansy, verbally agreed to a possible trip together, but then made up an excuse not to go.

This time, Nott had no choice but to come. But Zabini gave the same excuse that he might come, so he probably won't end up coming.

“Crabbe and Gore will be hosting together, and Nott is a guest that day,” Praris said tactfully. “Zabini…we’ll see.”

"Well... we don't have enough men." Marcus scratched his head. "Should I call a few of my buddies to help out?"

“Come on in, everyone, but we have help with the reception.” Praris shook her head. “Jacob, Pansy’s boyfriend, is already here. Barron will be here tonight to help—you don’t know him, he’s a few years younger than us in Ravenclaw and is now a therapist in the school infirmary. Evans arrived early this morning with Meryl. There are also Draco’s relatives, and some cousins ​​I don’t recognize…”

Some of the Gryffindors wanted to help out at her wedding, but the thought of Draco as the groom made them afraid of venting their anger, so they obediently remained as guests.

Narcissa's relatives are almost all gone, or practically gone, but Lucius still has them! Although Praris has hardly ever seen them, they are said to be very happy to come, and Draco is responsible for greeting them.

As for the girls? Praris has no shortage of witch friends, and right now, Mama Prie is leading the girls in decorating the manor.

Narcissa was reluctant to interact with Prim, but due to some less-than-pleasant experiences, she could chat with Winnie for a while.

Now, as she was writing the guest list, Winnie said with a grin, "Narcissa, Smith and the others are coming too, add them in."

"Which Smith?" Narcissa covered her ears and glanced downstairs in annoyance. "Don't just throw anyone onto our list!"

“Charlotte and Elizabeth,” Winnie said lightly. “You know, I’m teaching Charms at Evamony now—Elizabeth is the new headmistress of Evamony.”

After completely shedding her Death Eater identity, Winnie was eagerly recommended by Charlotte to become a professor at her sister's school, taking over Elizabeth's classes.

Narcissa smoothly abandoned what she had said just a minute ago and arranged for the Smith sisters to sit in seats closer to the front.

In the afternoon, Prarese tried on several dresses surrounded by a crowd.

God knows, these clothes and jewelry all have a history, which ancestor they belonged to, which fairy made them, which alchemist made them, which important relative wore them at a wedding... Praris was like a doll, putting them on and taking them off, taking them off and putting them on again.

Draco could only mumble "it looks good," which infuriated Pansy: "You're being so perfunctory, Draco!"

"I'm so wronged!" Draco protested, "What doesn't Praris look good in?"

Pansy shoved him out: "Get out of here, you stupid wizard who only knows how to sweet-talk and can't give any constructive advice!"

The witches inside burst into laughter.

The final dress was altered; it was a pure white, handmade lace gown with a long train and multiple layers of tulle, adorned with hundreds of pearls and crystals—understated yet luxurious. At first glance, the crystals weren't even noticeable, but they became clearly visible and shimmered as the wearer moved.

But in the wizard's eyes, this was a white dress that "looked good even though it was very simple"—Draco got criticized again when he said this.

Jacob, who had been trained by Pansy to be a bit smarter, said cautiously, "It wasn't easy; you can tell a lot of effort was put into it."

Pansy clapped her hands and nodded in satisfaction.

Draco's bewildered expression, as if to say "Why are you different?", successfully made the witches laugh again.

That night, the relatives and friends who came to help stayed at Malfoy Manor. Fortunately, the manor was large enough to accommodate even more people.

"Honey, you need to get some rest," Priscilla's mother reminded her. "You'll be very tired tomorrow!"

Praris nodded obediently, turned off the lights and went to bed early, but it was destined that he would not fall asleep so easily that night.

The first to knock was Pansy, who clung to the bedroom door and said, "Play, I'm so nervous."