HP North Star's Radiance

Praris shook his head slightly: "No, let's toast to our sincere friendship."

Myrtle was so moved that she burst into tears: "Only you don't lie to Myrtle! If you die, Myrtle is willing to share her toilet with you."

“Hmm? Actually, I lied to you.” Praris blinked and said sincerely, “I already have other friends.”

Myrtle was stunned, and began to brew tears that could flood the entire toilet.

Praris looked at her gently and said softly, "But now, it's just the two of us. This is our time, our own world. Merry Christmas Eve, Miss Myrtle!"

Myrtle shrieked, "You, you wicked Prince! I curse you to be happy!"

Last year, Prarese tried to get information out of Myrtle about the secret room, and she promised Myrtle that she would become her friend.

She kept her promise; this was the second time she had come to the washroom to spend Christmas with Myrtle.

Praris reached into his pocket, pulled out a small bottle, and placed it in the corner of Myrtle's toilet.

"What did you put in there?!"

Praris straightened up: "It's Egyptian spices, a Christmas present. I hope you like it."

Myrtle's voice softened: "Oh, you like it, of course, but Myrtle doesn't have anything to give you... a toilet seat..."

"Oh no, thank you for your kindness. Your company is the best gift I could ever receive!"

Chapter 54 Free Will

Praris and Myrtle were fooling around in the bathroom, drinking, singing, waltzing hand in hand, and gossiping about school.

Without a doubt, it was Myrtle who was talking, while Praris mostly just listened.

She had been drinking and was a little tipsy, squinting at Myrtle with hazy eyes.

Myrtle's maiden name was Warren, and both her parents were Muggles.

When she died, no one remembered her as Warren anymore; they all called her the Weeping Myrtle, the Crybaby Myrtle.

Myrtle's voice was shrill: "I couldn't adapt to this place at first. I'm not pretty, I'm short and fat, and I'm not smart. I never imagined I'd be here all this time. Humboldt mocked me, and I knew I wasn't popular! Everyone, everyone thought I should go to Hufflepuff because I'm useless and a coward."

“Praris, you can’t understand this feeling. The girls all shun me, and the boys? I admit I crave love, but the boys look down on me even more, until I die and scare them into a panic.”

Praris's expression was calm, as if Myrtle were talking about something trivial: "Myrtle, in any case, most of life is unhappy. Even so, no one has the right to deprive you of your right to pursue happiness."

Even if you are dead, even if you are a ghost, you still have consciousness and the ability to think, so you have the right to love. You see, you only have your soul left, so from now on, when you love someone, you love with your soul. There is nothing more romantic than this.

Myrtle stared at her blankly for a long while, then covered her face and cried, sobbing, "Why didn't anyone tell me these things while I was alive! Why did I have to hear them only after I'm dead!"

She floated over and poured the red wine into her mouth. Of course, she couldn't drink it; it passed through her body and spilled on the ground like a pool of blood.

On this Christmas Eve, she experienced a friendship she had never known in life, yet once again realized that she was already dead.

Myrtle didn't actually hate death; despite her constant weeping, she was the one among the ghosts who was happiest to die. While alive, Myrtle would never have dared to retaliate against Humbert for mocking her, but after death, her spirit relentlessly pursued Humbert until she could no longer bear it and sought help from the Ministry of Magic.

But death also signifies something else: she has no future. She lives forever in her student days, forever missing out on a future life. She watches her students grow up, experience first love, and fall in love, and she envies them every moment.

Love represents many things. For Myrtle, it represented recognition—someone appreciates you and decides to love you. It also represented a future, as if her stagnant life had started flowing forward again.

Prareas was the first person to think she could pursue love. Even though Myrtle was a ghost when she heard those words, and Prareas was a drunkard when he said them.

Praris did drink some alcohol, but she believed she was still quite sober.

If the students here were alive, she would have said more, such as that Hufflepuff wasn't without its merits, and that Mrs. Sprout taught her children diligence, loyalty, and kindness. She would also have said that you shouldn't believe what others think of you.

But none of this mattered to Myrtle, who was already dead.

She washed the glasses before curfew and staggered back home.

Praris stood in front of the common room, thought for a while, and then remembered the new password for the past few days: "Victory".

It was already very late, and she glanced around quickly but couldn't see a single person.

Praris then opened the cabinet, took out the wine glasses from his handbag, and was about to put them back one by one.

A voice drifted out softly: "You went on a date?"

Praris frowned and turned around, seeing Draco Malfoy standing in the shadows, arms crossed and leaning against the wall.

Her thinking was a little slow: "If you really scare me, you'll have to pay for the cup if it breaks."

Draco scoffed and stepped out of the shadows: "Did you think I couldn't afford to pay for just two cups?"

Praris, looking sleepy, squinted at him out of the corner of his eye and said slowly, "Aren't you going to rest? Are you that excited? Because you're going home tomorrow?"

“You’ve been drinking,” Draco said sarcastically, “which has dulled your mind. You know, that’s the only redeeming quality you have.”

Normally, Praris would have noticed that his mood wasn't excited and then sharply mocked him.

Draco sometimes found it absurd; he was always the one mocking and criticizing others, but in front of this person, everything was turned upside down.

Praris slumped onto the sofa, tilting his head back, and said, "Hmm? Yes, I did have a little. Myrtle can't drink, but I had to drink with her. When she was alive, Christmas was actually one of her favorite holidays, because that's when she could go home."

Draco stood before her, his expression softening slightly, but his words remained sharp: "You're not like a Slytherin at all, more like a sympathetic fool."

"You think I'm harmless when I'm drunk?" Praris glared at him.

Draco snorted, changed the subject, and said smugly, "That big oaf from Gryffindor is going to be in big trouble. My dad is very worried about me and has been working on my behalf for almost two months. Now, the Committee on the Handling of Dangerous Creatures has accepted our complaint."

“Congratulations then. What kind of punishment will it receive?” Prare yawned.

Draco said nonchalantly, "Who knows? Maybe they'll be executed. I really don't understand why the school keeps these monsters in the Forbidden Forest!"

Praris nodded and stretched: "Go to sleep early, you have to go home very early tomorrow morning."

Is the Hippogriff's mistake enough to be fatal? Praris doesn't think so.

But the real victim is Draco, and it's the angry family members, like the Malfoys, who are fighting for justice. Even if she doesn't see it that way, no one has the right to forgive on behalf of the victims and their families.

Some people think they're making a mountain out of a molehill, but what if no one had stopped the hippogriff and it had bitten Draco? Nobody can imagine what would have happened.

The next day at noon, Praris arrived at the auditorium.

A table for twelve people was set up in the center of the auditorium, where the principal, the four deans, and the administrator, Filch, were seated.

Of course, there were also students. Two first-graders, and Praris, who had just walked in.

"Merry Christmas." Ms. Sprout, diagonally across from her, winked. "Darling, do you like my gift?"

It was a pillow stuffed with herbs, and it smelled faintly sweet. Ms. Sprout said she hoped it would help Praris sleep well.

“Of course, ma’am.” Praris smiled broadly.

After a while, Potter and his two friends arrived. Hermione looked a little preoccupied, exchanged a glance with Praris for a second, and then blinked.

Dumbledore had the three of them sit down, and then excitedly gave Professor Snape a firecracker.

The professor looked reluctant, but he still pulled the trigger. After a loud bang, a pointed witch's hat was revealed.

Prarese swore she saw the speechlessness in the professor's eyes. Perhaps Professor Dumbledore thought this was desensitization therapy.

But in reality, the professor probably had long forgotten about it, if it weren't for that firecracker.

The professor disdainfully pushed the hat toward Dumbledore, who readily accepted it and put it on his own head, then cheerfully told the students to start their meal.

Prarese turned to Filch and asked, "Isn't Mrs. Lorris eating with us?"

Her tone made it sound as if Mrs. Lorice were a teacher or a student.

Filch, who was holding Mrs. Lorris, paused for a moment. Although his expression remained gloomy, he answered her question: "No, Miss Prince, Mrs. Lorris has already had lunch. She just wants to join me for lunch."

“I would like to bring Nina along,” Praris said with a sigh, “but she got up too early today and was busy helping Millison pack for home. Now she’s sleepy again and can’t get up.”

If Milison was Nina's biological mother, then Prarese was more like a godmother. When Milison was unable to care for Nina, she would entrust her to Prarese's care.

A first-year student looked at Praris with a look of awe, as if he had seen some kind of monster.

Filch's tone was unusually gentle: "So, has Nina eaten?"

Praris slapped his forehead and said, "I almost forgot, I need to bring her some corn."

Just as she was wrapping the corn in bread paper, the auditorium doors opened again. Professor Trelawney, now dressed in a green gown covered in metallic sequins, glided in through the doorway like a whirlwind.

She looked like a dragonfly flying in the sunlight.

Dumbledore immediately stood up to welcome her, changed her chair, and was surprised that she suddenly wanted to join the luncheon.

Yes, yes, Praris remembered her saying that she didn't want to go downstairs, saying it would pollute her third eye.

Trelawney kept saying it was fate, because she saw herself coming down to eat in the crystal ball.

Then she looked around and suddenly screamed at the chair: "No, this can't be! When thirteen people are eating together, the first person to stand up will be the first to die!"

Everyone looked at each other, and Professor McGonagall, who had never believed in her prophecies, said impatiently, "We're not afraid of taking risks, Sybil. Sit down, or the turkey will get cold."

Trelawney hesitated to sit down, but when she finally did, she had an expression that suggested she was sitting there waiting for her fate, ready to bravely face her execution.

“Professor Trelawney,” Prarese poked her head out and said, “what if one of the thirteen people didn’t eat? Would the prophecy of death still come true?”

Trelawney looked at her, puzzled. "Oh, it's you, cruel girl Prince. I don't understand what you mean."

“This is your prophecy, so I respect your achievement. But your prophecy is based on the premise that thirteen people would eat together, isn’t it? I just chatted with Mr. Filch for a while and am now preparing lunch for Nina. Of the thirteen people present, one person did not eat, and that is me.”

After saying that, Praris stood up, holding Nina's corn. "Alright, now I'm standing. There aren't thirteen people eating here, and I'm alive and well, so you can eat in peace. Right?"

The moment she stood up, Snape's face darkened instantly, Trelawney looked panicked, and Dumbledore wore an amused smile.

"This...this..."

Trelawney looked surprised, as if she had been caught up in Prares's logic and couldn't quite wrap her head around it.

“My dear Miss Prince, is that right?” Professor McGonagall looked at her kindly. “It’s just a prophecy, not fate. You can sit down and continue eating.”

Praris nodded politely to the teachers. "It's alright, Professor McGonagall. I think our little cat Nina might be awake; she hasn't had lunch yet."

After saying that, she shook the corn in her hand.

Prareas did as she had instructed, returning to the Slytherin common room, grabbing Nina by the back of the neck as she scratched at the leather sofa, and pulling her off.

"Bad cat, bad cat, using the leather sofa as a scratching post!"

Praris nudged Nina, who was happily munching on corn, but the kitten was already engrossed in the sweet corn and paid no attention to the servant returning from the hunt.

She smiled helplessly, took out the snacks and candies the girls had brought her from the cabinet, and spent the Christmas lunch with Nina over tea.

Regarding Trelawney's prophecies, Prarese absolutely rejects prophetic determinism. Perhaps, as Trelawney herself said, she rejects the arrival of the mysterious, shutting them out.

Fate is not absolute. Just like stargazing, the stars are constantly changing, and some even more distant stars are invisible to astrologers—those are hidden possibilities. People's choices are like these changing stars, constantly altering their fate and influencing the final outcome.