HP North Star's Radiance

“Tell me about it,” Praris said absentmindedly.

"The match between Gryffindor and Hufflepuff has been cancelled," Draco said.

Prarese said listlessly, "You should tell this news to Marcus and Stella."

Draco leaned closer to her, gave a cold laugh, and said, "Because Granger, that mudblood, has been petrified, you don't have to worry about anyone surpassing you now."

Praris clenched his fists, trying to suppress a suspicious expression: "Oh really? You think I'm as incompetent as you, needing to eliminate my rivals to solidify my position? No, I don't need to at all. Even if she hadn't been petrified, she wouldn't have been a match for me."

Draco was about to say something when a deep voice came from behind them: "Good, my students should have this kind of spirit. But I'm assuming I haven't mistreated any Slytherin students. There are enough sofas in the common room for you; there's no need to stand here blocking the way."

Praris and Draco both turned around and quickly took a few steps back.

It's Professor Snape!

The renewed attacks put the entire school on high alert. The dean announced that students would not be allowed to leave the common room after 6 p.m., students would be required to be escorted to class, and all competitions would be postponed.

After the professor left, the Slytherins still seemed completely unconcerned.

“Is no one afraid?” Praris muttered to himself.

Milison asked, somewhat puzzled, "Why be afraid?"

“There are half-bloods in Slytherin, aren’t there?” Praris said.

Prareas is not referring to herself; there are other half-blood Slytherins besides her, but they are not close to the pure-blood ideology of Draco and Daphne.

Millison nodded: "That's true, but why would a Slytherin heir attack a Slytherin student? I mean, none of the people who got into trouble were Slytherins, were they?"

This further confirms Praris's previous speculation: how could the mysterious man's dark magic items attack Slytherin, which is his talent base!

Knowing that he would be safe as long as he stopped investigating, Praris felt he should relax.

But she simply couldn't do it.

The letter was sent, but no one received it, and Praris no longer needed to go to the terrace of the Astronomical Tower.

If she hadn't seen Granger with his chin held high as he opened the carriage door, if she hadn't been frequently mentioned by professors along with Granger, if she hadn't fought alongside Granger, then of course she could have simply ignored him.

But by some strange twist of fate, she had seen them all.

Why would a Slytherin have such a kind heart?

Why would she feel pain over the life and death of others?

Why--

She thought her heart had hardened during the five or six years she spent in the orphanage, but she still couldn't ignore it all.

Even the professor followed the mysterious man, didn't he? If anyone around her knew she had designs on stopping him, could she still stay here?

Prarese hesitated to make a decision, tormented by a tug-of-war between survival and her remaining morality.

What truly made her lose heart was a "tea party" a few days later.

With travel difficult and competitions suspended lately, the Slytherins had little to do, so they sat in the common room drinking tea and chatting.

Praris has been spacing out a lot lately. To hide her abnormality, she often carries around a random book and stares at it blankly.

"Would you like some butter shortbread?" Millison asked, holding the shortbread to her lips.

Praris took a bite: "It's too sweet."

“A little black tea will do,” Milison said.

There was a large sofa in the middle of the Slytherin common room, but Praris and Millison weren't there; they were at a set of tables and chairs near the trophy rack.

Chapter 38 Determination

"If the competition can't take place, Gryffindor won't win the championship. Isn't that a good thing?"

Praris overheard several Slytherins chatting nearby.

Another Slytherin remarked with a sigh, "Forget about the competition, if this continues, Hogwarts might have to close down."

"That sounds good, then we won't have to take the final exam!"

Praris curled up in the armchair, the book in his hands remaining untouched for a long time.

This sounds incredible, but it is indeed possible. Parents will not allow their children to be put in danger time and time again, and the school board will most likely close Hogwarts for a period of time to reorganize and reorganize until the danger is completely eliminated.

Malfoy scoffed, "Maybe they'll change the headmaster! If Dumbledore doesn't do a good job, I think Professor Snape would be a good replacement."

Zabini shouted, "Changing the principal is fine, suspending the school for a while is also good. If you ask me, we can still go home, unlike some people..."

"What do you expect from Potter? He'll be going back to his Muggle aunt's house and never be able to use magic again!" Malfoy laughed heartily.

Praris stared blankly at the flickering flames in the fireplace, his fingers gripping the pages of the book tightly, his face pale.

Yes, how could she forget?

If it weren't for Professor Snape's guarantee, she would never have spent the summer vacation on the second floor of Diagon Alley. But if things escalated to the point of being shut down, she, an orphan without a guardian, would certainly be sent back to the convent.

Praris felt her stomach churning, and even sitting in front of the fireplace, her hands and feet felt as cold as if they were in the snow. She vaguely heard church bells and the priest's calm, monotone chanting; she seemed to see sunlight streaming through stained glass windows, bright but devoid of warmth; she seemed to feel the chilblains that hadn't recurred for two years, now throbbing painfully in her finger joints again.

She had to do something, without the other Slytherins finding out. It wasn't for Granger's sake, but for her own good—to keep Hogwarts from closing and her from being kicked back to the convent.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Harry and Ron had a great adventure last night; they were almost eaten by Aragog, the giant spider that Hagrid used to keep as a pet.

Abu, they are Aragog's children.

Or perhaps they are grandchildren.

That's not important! What's important is that they figured out Hagrid wasn't the heir to the Chamber of Secrets.

Besides this, there was another problem they couldn't solve: a letter sent to Hermione.

The letter arrived on the day Hermione was petrified. It was on parchment paper, without any markings or badges, and not even a signature.

The letter contained the following:

Granger:

Stop investigating, and don't let anyone know you're close to the answer. Whatever you want to know, go to the Astronomical Tower, and I'll tell you everything.

“I think this was written by the Heir!” Ron said. “Because Hermione discovered the truth, he wanted to get rid of Hermione so that we couldn’t investigate further.”

Harry disagreed: "Hermione isn't our brain, but that doesn't mean we can't do anything without her. Okay, Hermione is our brain. Well, that's not what I meant. I mean, Hermione is very smart, but we'll continue our investigation without her."

“Most importantly, how can we read Hermione’s letters without permission!” Harry said.

Ron waved his hand: "Is this something we want to break up?"

At mealtime, Hermione's owl circled above Gryffindor's head, unable to find its owner.

Ron wanted to help Hermione accept the letter, preferably by slipping it inside a book she hadn't finished reading.

“Once she’s better, you’ll see her right away,” Ron said.

Ron accidentally dropped the letter into his drink, and half of the letter tasted like carrot juice.

“We have to dry it,” Harry said desperately. “Hermione will kill us.”

Ron came up with a crazy idea: to dry it in the fireplace.

The fireplace set the envelope on fire, and in the ensuing chaos, the letter fell out.

That evening, they waited near the terrace, but no one came.

“I think so too. Everyone knows Hermione was petrified, so how could he possibly come to keep the appointment?”

Ron was completely speaking after the fact; he was the one who had been shouting that he was going to catch this guy.

This morning, as soon as Harry got out of bed, he saw a letter on his bedside table.

"Who would send you a letter at this time?"

Ron and Harry exchanged a glance, and after carefully checking that there was no dark magic on the envelope, they prepared to open it.

In fact, it doesn't seem to be entirely certain, but that's not important.

Harry opened the envelope; inside was half a familiar piece of parchment!

“I bet it matches Hermione’s half,” Ron said.

Porter:

I know you took the letter I gave to Granger, didn't you?"

"Has he been watching us the whole time?!" Ron exclaimed in surprise.

The letter read: "I cannot reveal my identity, but I hope you will believe what I am about to say."

Ron said, "Hide your head and show your tail!"

Harry whispered, "Let's finish watching first."

"Rupert Hagrid is not the owner of the secret room; you have been deceived by the notebook."

“We already knew that,” Ron said. “Well, half a day is early, isn’t it?”

"The master of the Chamber of Secrets, the heir of Slytherin, is Tom from the notebook. You need to find the notebook as soon as possible! Don't think I'm exaggerating, you need to find the notebook immediately! According to Granger's deduction, the person who stole the notebook is still in Gryffindor. Please find the person around you who has recently been in extremely poor mental condition and has a pale face. Solving the notebook problem will solve the petrification incident."

Harry exclaimed in surprise, "How is that possible? I mean, it was Tom who solved the Chamber of Secrets problem! He even got a special award, didn't he?"

“Oh, the kind of person he’s talking about, we won’t find in Gryffindor, but we’ll have plenty in Slytherin,” Ron said sarcastically. “Pale-faced, isn’t that Malfoy?”

"Due to special circumstances, I cannot provide you with any substantial assistance. If you really cannot determine who this person is, the last resort is to try to ask Myrtle; she is the victim from fifty years ago. Don't tell me you can't enter the women's restroom; as far as I know, you've been in there more than once."

“Hermione told him everything!” Ron said indignantly. “He probably even knows what Hermione ate for breakfast.”

Harry read to the end of the envelope and saw a signature: "spoon".

"spoon?"

Harry and Ron looked at each other, wondering what the name meant.

In short, this spoon wizard, whose identity is unclear (whether he was a gentleman or a lady), offered some help that Harry and his companion considered useless.

“It’s not useless, at least we know we can ask Myrtle,” Harry said.

Next, just as they were about to sneak into the girls' lavatory, they were caught by Professor McGonagall. Harry made an excuse that he wanted to go find Hermione and found clues about the "basilisk" and the "pipe" in her palm.

"Pipe! I know! The basilisk is in the pipe. Spoon said to look for Myrtle, so Myrtle probably knows where the entrance to the secret chamber is. Maybe it's in her bathroom!"