HP North Star's Radiance

"Enough!" Draco suddenly stood up, his face grim.

Praris sighed. "Do you like to run away from problems? Do you think that's the way to solve them? Like this Quidditch match."

“I’ve said enough! Praris Prince, do you think I’ll keep putting up with you forever? You’re always so arrogant, thinking you’re all-powerful, treating other people’s minds like your own backyard! Yes, I’m jealous of him, are you satisfied now! Isn’t this what you wanted to hear?”

“My father didn’t say anything, but I know he thinks Potter is much better than me, and he also thinks I’m not as good as you and Granger. Okay, Potter is more noticed than me! You’re smarter! And so what? Are you better off than me? Your family relationships aren’t good, are they? At least my father and mother love me. And Granger is even a Mudblood!”

Praris watched him silently as he went mad, lost control, and uttered incoherent words in front of him. He even forgot how to mock Praris, and just kept cursing and swearing.

The one who thought Potter was better than him wasn't her, but him and his father. And the one who cared about Potter wasn't her, but Draco himself.

His father and mother loved him very much, even spoiled him. Because of this, they did not hide many things from him, and their attitudes towards things had a huge influence on Draco.

Spoiling him fostered his inherent weakness and habitual avoidance. When he discovered that Potter was gaining more attention than him, his first reaction was not to become stronger and gain attention through his abilities, but to constantly target Potter.

"That's about it?" Praris said softly. "Have you said everything you wanted to say?"

Draco placed his hands on the table, head down, and remained silent.

"Stop comparing. I don't think you're inferior to Potter. In my eyes, you're all about the same. Only Granger has some brains."

Draco remained silent, but slammed his fist on the table.

Praris said softly, “But your potions are quite good, aren’t they? Among the boys in our house, only Theodore Nott can compare to you. You’re quite knowledgeable about alchemy, and when you told me about those things, I had never heard of many of them before. Do you think Potter could do that? Your magic is also very good; you can release Oolong from its cave after just two sentences from the professor.”

Draco clenched his fist as he pounded the table.

“I used to feel resentful towards you,” Praris said. “At first, the professor only praised your potions, and I wanted to know who deserved the recognition more than me. Later, I stopped caring about it.”

Draco tilted his head to his left chest, his hair falling down to cover his face.

“It’s not because you’ve become worse, but because I’ve realized I shouldn’t compare myself to you. I should compare myself to myself, learn more, do what I’m supposed to do, and become stronger.”

"Draco, is Potter really worth all the headaches you've spent, worth the time you should be using to get stronger? Do you remember how you lost last time? When all you could see was that annoying Potter, you couldn't even see the Golden Snitch right next to you."

Chapter 52 Guardian Spell

In the potions classroom, sunlight streamed through the glass, illuminating the swirling dust particles in the air and casting a long shadow of Draco.

Praris slowly walked to Draco's side, patted him on the shoulder, and said in a gentle but firm tone: "It's not uncommon for us to have a rival in our lives when we're young. But our lives, our value, never depend on our rivals, but on ourselves."

Draco's clenched fist twitched, then gradually opened and relaxed.

Praris rarely saw him so quiet; he always seemed arrogant, awkward, unreasonable, and unforgiving once he was in the right.

He's like that bratty kid who talks loudly and shows off on the bus, thinking he can attract everyone's attention, but in reality, everyone finds him noisy.

The classroom was silent, with only the occasional noise of first-year students taking flight lessons coming from outside the castle.

Draco lay down, and Praris sat beside him. The two remained silent until she had to go to her next class.

She picked up her handbag and was about to leave the classroom when Draco's voice suddenly rang out, somewhat hoarse: "Do you think I'll thank you? Giving me all this nonsense."

Praris raised an eyebrow: "You don't think I'm only saying this because you want to thank me, do you?"

Draco muttered, "Self-righteous and long-winded."

"Have you finished your loser's declaration? I need to go to class."

"Humph!"

Delacord saw Praris off as he jogged out and gradually disappeared down the corridor.

On the day Sirius Black attacked the Gryffindor Tower, after hearing Prares's words, he felt like he had drunk apple-flavored soda, his heart was filled with a sour feeling, and he felt very unhappy.

Crabbe and Goyle were whispering about Sirius, buzzing like mosquitoes.

Theodore tossed and turned, unable to sleep. Annoyed by their constant chatter, he snapped, "Hogwarts should have a prison to cuff your mouths and lock you both up. Draco, are you really not going to do anything about these two chattering scallops?"

Draco rolled over, turning his back to the Slytherin boys: "Leave me alone. Their mouths are on their faces, do I have a switch here?"

“You should get used to it; he’s gotten angry with Prince again.” Crabbe said, as if it were commonplace. “It’s always like this.”

Draco stared blankly at the patterns on the pillars of the Great Hall, his mind a complete blank. He didn't know what he should think, nor could he understand the strange feelings in his heart.

Draco touched his chest; he knew this wasn't the first time he'd felt this way, and it wasn't unfamiliar to him. He'd had the same feeling last Christmas Eve when he was talking to her in the hallway.

Draco thought, "I'm just correcting a mistake."

She shouldn't have been with that big, buck-toothed idiot Flint! He's graduating seventh grade next year! Was she planning on a long-distance relationship with him? And he was so much older than her! He was practically a troll, using an OWLS program to make her take extra classes every day!

She shouldn't admire Potter either; that unlucky guy, unlucky from birth! He's a coward, scared unconscious by Dementors! He's—he's a Gryffindor!

The next day, Draco decided to meddle in other people's business once more.

"We're on the same side," Draco thought confidently, believing that Professor Snape would agree with him, as the professor had always opposed early romantic relationships.

But he searched for Praris for a long time without finding her; she wasn't in the office, the library, or the common room.

Without hesitation, Bersder replied, "You went to the potions classroom, didn't you? Pray has been quite troubled lately because he's researching a potion."

Greengrass clasped his hands together and began to make a wish: "She can already research potions on her own? That's wonderful! I hope that after Pray graduates, she can become a potions master like Professor Snape. Then I won't have to worry about her being in high demand and short supply."

"I thought the point was the annoyance?" Burst said, dissatisfied.

Greengrass smiled nonchalantly: "We've never seen anything that could bother her for so long."

Draco got the answer and went to the Potions classroom alone, without taking anyone with him.

He was very glad he made that decision later. He never expected his conversation with her to take this turn, just as he never expected to lose control of his emotions.

She could always find a crack in the impenetrable wall, pry it open without warning, peek inside, and then close it with disdain, saying, "So this is all the filth in your heart, yue (first tone)."

How can there be such unreasonable people in the world?

Nevertheless, a voice in Draco's mind was asking, "Is she wrong?"

He gave a bitter laugh. It was precisely because it was so right, damnably right. Those words struck him like a bell, jolting him awake from his feigned sleep.

Praris Prince, you are a truly awful person.

Praliss was unaware that someone was cursing her in her mind; she attended Professor Snape's Defense Against the Dark Arts class. The professor skipped the lesson and went straight to the chapter on "Werewolves."

"That's perfect," Praris thought, "it should have been done a long time ago."

If there is a dangerous creature in the school that could potentially attack students, then the students should learn how to defend themselves against that creature's attacks, rather than hoping that the creature will control itself.

Of course, self-control is also important. But who can guarantee that this dangerous creature will always be able to control itself?

The next day, Saturday, it rained heavily.

The pitch-black sky and the heavy rain pounding against the auditorium windows made it seem as if a thunderbird was flying overhead, summoning lightning and storms, making the rain exceptionally dense and the wind exceptionally strong.

After lunch, the Slytherins were discussing Gryffindor's match against Hufflepuff that day. They were smug, believing that choosing a different opponent was a brilliant tactic, and that even the heavens were on their side!

Praris frowned and said, "With such heavy rain, they're still holding a competition? Do they think there are too many students and they're living too long?"

Milison replied, "That's how Quidditch is. The weather is part of the game, and winning in bad weather is a sign of skill."

“That’s why I hate Quidditch.” Prareus took a vicious bite of his cookie. “It’s a crazy sport.”

She has no classes on the weekend, so she has to catch up on all the debts she owed this week, whether it's unanswered letters, homework, or extracurricular assignments.

Prarese often felt absurd.

Why is it that everyone around her seems to be idle and bored, while she is like Sisyphus, constantly busy all day long, yet upon closer inspection, she doesn't seem to have accomplished anything, and just keeps pushing the stone?

Today, as usual, I'll first look at her letters. The first one is from Miss Winnie, but it mostly relays Miss Prie's words, reminding Prarese not to be too lax at school and not to study so hard that he forgets to eat.

Oh, she now has two "mothers," one Ms. Sprout at school and one Ms. Prie in Diagon Alley.

Like every child, Praris vowed to study hard, eat well, and get along well with his classmates.

The second letter was from Hermione, who wanted to know if there were any books on taming raccoons, or analyses of raccoon behavior.

Hermione's letter read: I know I shouldn't expect anything from a kitten. Being mischievous is in his nature, and wanting to eat mice is also in his nature. He's just a kitten, what can he understand? But I really can't help it. He keeps staring at Ron's mouse, Scabbers, wanting to eat it. He even sneaks into the boys' dormitory at night!

Hermione wrote a lot; this is only a part of it.

Praris wrote in her letter: I'm sorry, I don't understand cat language either. Nina is a good little darling, she doesn't eat mice, and loves corn and sweet potatoes; she's a simple and unassuming kitten. I remember the library had a book called "How to Get Along with Your Amazing Pet." But I must warn you, that book isn't very useful; it actually says that kittens like Nina are typical silly cats!

Who would have thought? Nina wouldn't eat a single fish, and she was picky about her cat food, but she loved munching on corn. Milison initially thought she liked sweets, but it turned out she only liked corn and sweet potatoes.

Praris poked Nina and said, "Are you a pig? Little piglet!"

Praris recalled that the book listed a method for testing a cat's intelligence. Millison tried it and concluded that Nina wasn't very bright, resulting in impotent rage.

Praris picked up his pen and continued: "Don't you think this rat has lived too long, rather than enjoying the Crookshanks? I've never heard of a rat living that long, unless it's some kind of magical creature. And magical creatures are rarely harmless. Even the Bowtruckle will reach out and attack the eyes of Muggles when they threaten their trees."

Then, she wrote some things about exchanging learning experiences as a conclusion—about werewolves, after all, Hermione and she both had to write two papers on this topic!

"Worth celebrating!"

The people who went to watch the Quidditch match have returned, and they look very excited.

Pansy went too, and although she was wearing a raincoat, her lower body was still soaked. She had to go back to her dorm to change her clothes before coming over.

Pansy pulled a towel over her head: "The rain is so heavy, I can't see the Golden Snitch or the contestants at all. I don't know if I'm watching the rain or the game!"

"As the game was about to end, the Dementors appeared on the field, and Potter fell from the sky. Just like Draco said, that coward was terrified of the Dementors."

"In the blink of an eye, Diggory snatched the Golden Snitch and won. I'm so glad Draco wasn't in this match; his arm isn't healed yet. I can't even imagine what would have happened if he'd fallen from the sky!"

Praris was a little skeptical of the last two sentences: Draco's arm had long since healed!

However, it must be said that the injured party was not Slytherin, which is indeed something to celebrate for the extremely united Slytherin.

As for Dementors, they feed on people's most positive emotions and induce their worst memories. Prareas didn't think this was because Potter was worried; perhaps it was because his terrible memories were so vivid that he couldn't resist the Dementors.

What would I see if I encountered a Dementor?

Praris couldn't help but think about this question. She no longer hated everything that had happened at the monastery. At this point, what was the worst thing that could have happened to her?

When she snapped out of that thought, she was already standing in front of Professor Snape's office, carrying her low-grade version of Wolfsbane Potion.

"Low-end version" means that it is significantly inferior to the original version overall.

Damocles' wolfsbane potion can keep werewolves sanity during a full moon, preventing them from harming others.

Praris's two lower-end versions each achieved half of the goal. The first one could keep the werewolf sane, but the effect only lasted for an hour; the second one could last all night, but it not only eliminated saneness but also consciousness.

The second type will still turn into a werewolf, but the werewolf will be in a coma and will not be able to escape once discovered by others.

Some might wonder, shouldn't ordinary people run away when facing werewolves? No, werewolves also need to run. An ordinary person's first reaction upon discovering a werewolf isn't necessarily to run; they might preemptively strike to avoid being harmed. Therefore, for a werewolf who is unconscious, it is actually the werewolf themselves who is more likely to be in mortal danger.

Under the dim office lights, Snape listened to her two experimental ideas and procedures, pointed out all the mistakes she made in the process, and criticized and suggested improvements without any mercy.