HP North Star's Radiance

“Do I owe you money?” Praris glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. “Why are you giving me that look?”

Draco never hides his emotions. When he doesn't know her well, he calls her Prince; when he knows her well, he calls her Prarese. When he's in a good mood, he calls her Prarese; when he's in a bad mood, he calls her Prince.

Add to that his grumpy, perpetually unhappy demeanor, and it's as if he's wearing his "I'm not happy, come and comfort me" written all over his face.

He thinks Praris will coax him? Forget about a door, there's no way he'll get a chance!

At that moment, a Malcolm child was sorted into Slytherin, and Prareus and the Slytherins clapped happily.

As the applause subsided, Draco leaned closer to Praris and said in a questioning tone, "I sent you tickets, but you didn't go to the Quidditch World Cup, did you?"

“That’s true,” Praris said sincerely. “But I’m not interested in Quidditch. If you were the one flying on the field, I would consider nagging Winnie and accepting your invitation.”

Prareas was just spouting off. First, Draco's level was not good enough to represent Great Britain. Second, even if Draco were flying on the field, Prareas wouldn't necessarily be there every time.

Her implication was that I wouldn't watch the game, just as Draco wouldn't represent Great Britain.

Draco's understanding was clearly completely different.

Upon hearing Prareas's words, he blinked rapidly and quickly turned his head to look in the direction of the Sorting Hat. If you looked closely at that moment, you could see that his earlobes were slightly red.

"You! You! Look at the hospital assignments!"

Draco's voice sounded flustered, but it was quickly drowned out by the applause from the Slytherins—another freshman had been assigned to Slytherin, named Graham.

After the branch campus is closed, it is customary to have a meal together.

It was raining heavily outside, but the Great Hall was very warm, and the food was delicious. Praris didn't eat much, quickly filling his stomach, and then it was time for Dumbledore's speech.

Filch added more than 400 new bans this year. Daphne scoffed, "Does this old man even remember what he's banned? Or does he just ban something whenever he's unhappy, just to cheer himself up?"

Then, Dumbledore announced that Quidditch would be suspended for the year, probably because the Triwizard Tournament was coming up.

Winnie and Ms. Prie have discussed this topic, and they both agree that it's a competition with no safety guarantees and no entertainment value.

The only purpose of the competition is probably to keep students from different schools competing against each other, in order to maintain a sense of crisis and fighting spirit.

The medieval wizarding world was far less safe than it is today. Wizards frequently encountered unheard-of dark magic creatures and were often persecuted by Muggles. For example, Nick Fury, who nearly lost his head, was beheaded by a Muggle.

Compared to wizards of that era, conflicts in wizarding schools today are mostly minor, rarely involving life or death. Those involving life or death are dealt with swiftly: expulsion or imprisonment.

Just then, the auditorium door was suddenly kicked open, and all the students looked in that direction.

A strange man stood at the entrance of the auditorium, his entire body wrapped in a travel cloak and leaning on a long cane.

The man removed his hood, revealing a face that defied description. Every inch of his skin was scarred, one eye was a small, dark black, while the other was an eerie, bright blue. Each eye seemed to be doing its own thing, completely unrelated to the other.

He walked with a limp, hurrying towards Dumbledore. After whispering to Dumbledore, he sat down silently and began to eat.

Dumbledore happily introduced him to them as the new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, Moody. The students' reaction wasn't very enthusiastic; they were probably intimidated by his appearance.

“I’m sure I’ve heard that somewhere before,” Milison said, frowning.

Daphne slowly poked at the remaining food on her plate: "I bet you don't want to know the answer."

"Why!" Milison said, puzzled. "I'm not asking you, I'm asking Prie. Prie will definitely know."

Praris said tactfully, "Mad-Eye Moody was originally an Auror, known for hunting Death Eaters. He recently got into some trouble, but I guess he was protected by Dumbledore's faction and came to work at Hogwarts."

Milison thought the name sounded familiar, probably because Mrs. Burst almost fell into his hands.

Millison's face changed instantly. Everyone thought she was scared, but after a while, she whispered something unexpected: "He's so incompetent. Why doesn't he just arrest my mother so she can go crazy over her 'companions'?"

In the background of Millison's voice, Dumbledore announces the arrival of the Triwizard Tournament, with the age limit set at seventeen and above.

Of course, none of them were seventeen yet, so this kind of game had nothing to do with them. Therefore, nobody around here cared about the three-way battle; they only cared about Milison's disrespectful remarks.

Pansy exclaimed with delight, "You're amazing!"

Praris hugged her to make her feel better: "Oh, Millie, you've really had a hard time!"

Having a mother isn't necessarily good, and not having a mother isn't necessarily bad either. A mother being outside isn't necessarily a good thing, and a mother being inside isn't necessarily a bad thing.

Prarese imagined that if she were Mrs. Burstd's daughter, Mrs. Burstd would probably be close to realizing her grand ambitions by now.

But if that were the case, Prasris's mental and emotional health might not be as good as it is now, and her moral standards would probably plummet. Who knows, if Voldemort were to appear, she might just slip into becoming a Death Eater.

However, this is just speculation; a hypothetical stance can never lead to a real outcome. Reality is far more complex, and the factors that influence a person's life are far more numerous than a handful.

Even a robust girl as thick-skinned as Millison becomes vulnerable and sensitive when it comes to matters involving Mrs. Burstdle. Mrs. Burstdle is quite capable, after all.

The next morning, the new school year began, and the first morning consisted of only one herb class with Ravenclaw.

Before her herbalism class, Prader carried her pile of homework toward Professor Snape's office.

"Come in."

Snape's deep voice came from behind the door; this was the first real meeting between Praris and him since they recognized each other.

Chapter 69 Duel

The place was almost exactly the same as when Praris last came here. A few candles were lit in the dimly lit room, the fireplace burned for a long time, and the medicine bottles on the wooden shelf cast all sorts of shadows in the candlelight.

Praris placed the items he was carrying in the usual work area, then expertly rolled up his sleeves, put on his dragon-skin gloves, and said, "Bone Spirit, White Essence—for the Triwizard Tournament, Professor?"

“It’s obvious,” Snape said in a deep voice. “Did Winnie Brown attend the gathering?”

“No.” Prareas didn’t hide anything, and even asked Professor Snape, “And you?”

“Don’t think you have to know everything in the world. It’s better for you to be a little oblivious to some things,” Snape said coldly. “Stay away from Moody. He won’t show any mercy to Death Eaters and Slytherins.”

“But I’m a student,” Praris said in surprise.

Snape sneered, “Miss, don’t you want to guess why he’s called ‘Mad’Eye’? Dumbledore always gets the school into trouble; you should be used to it by now.”

“Alright, alright.” Praris nodded. “That’s just undeniable.”

After saying goodbye to Professor Snape, Prarese went to the Herbalist classroom, where the main lesson was on how to collect the pus from the baboon tuber.

This plant is somewhat unsightly to those who see it; it looks like a slug crawling out of the mud, covered with many bulging pustules filled with undiluted pus.

The students' main task was to wear dragon-skin gloves, squeeze out the pus, and collect it in bottles.

It's a disgusting yet incredibly stress-relieving job. Prarese did it back in her freshman year, so she did it very efficiently, one person doing it better than several.

“You look like one of the old nurses at St. Mungo’s.” Daphne said to Babo Tuber, her expression twisted. “When I was a kid, I went to the hospital, and the nurses at St. Mungo’s had this kind of attitude. I was like a fish on a chopping board in their hands.”

Praris raised an eyebrow at her: "I'll take this as a compliment on my bravery."

After Herbalism class came Magical Creatures Conservation class, which Praris had dropped last year to free up a class time.

Before Professor Snape assigned her any new tasks, Prairie ran to an empty classroom to practice the spells Winnie had taught her.

Winnie is a spellcasting expert who is no less skilled than Professor Flitwick, although she seems more like a heretic than a traditional spellcasting scholar like Flitwick.

She has extensive knowledge of spells and a wealth of practical experience—let's not worry about where her experience came from for now, she just has a lot.

However, she has one undeniable flaw.

Professor Flitwick was more patient in his teaching, guiding students step by step. Winnie, on the other hand, was the complete opposite; she practically laid out the core of the knowledge and presented it to you, skipping almost all the steps that required thinking.

The main focus is on speed, ruthlessness, and stability.

A teacher like her is suitable for mastering magic in a short time, but absolutely not for students' long-term development. She will cause students to lose their ability to think independently, making them only able to rely on her ability to unravel complexities.

Winnie revealed her arrogance for the first time: "You're right, most of the people I taught before were idiots, so my teaching was completely 'foolproof.' People came and could learn, and they could apply what they learned. As for thinking? That's overestimating their almond-sized brains."

But for Praris, everything was different. Praris's thinking ability was beyond that of ordinary people; Winnie only needed to point out the key points, and Praris could immediately understand them.

This is why Winnie was so surprised and delighted after her first communication with Praris about the new spell. Winnie discovered that she had met someone who could resonate with her brainwaves, which gave her a tremendous sense of accomplishment in teaching.

In this situation, Winnie quickly followed in Snape's footsteps, becoming the second teacher dedicated to stuffing all her knowledge into Prader's mind.

Winnie taught all sorts of spells, big and small, good and bad, orthodox and unorthodox, wherever she could think of them, and whatever she thought would be useful.

“You’re just having fun teaching,” Praris couldn’t help but complain. “It’s completely unsystematic.”

"Hmm." Winnie gave a guilty smile. "Anyway, you'll categorize them in your head yourself, right?"

With the start of school approaching, Winnie didn't even consider whether Prareth had time to digest the material. She firmly believed that Prareth could memorize it, and the rest could be practiced slowly after school started.

The teacher committed a terrible crime; what can the students do but suffer in silence?

Praris practiced until lunchtime before reluctantly leaving the classroom and heading towards the auditorium.

Draco drawled, "Prareth, it's enviable that you gave up the Magical Creatures Protection class. That leaves one of us with a good appetite."

Pansy said in a shrill voice, "After we crush the barbo tubers, we have to feed the 'Bombyx' snails with frog livers. Merlin, who knows what a 'Bombyx' snail is! It smells like rotten fish and shrimp, the males have spines, and the females have suckers!"

She said irritably, "I have no idea which sewer he fished out of! It's awful, awful! I haven't had a single good day since the end of last semester!"

The Slytherins around him murmured in agreement, seemingly regretting their choice of this course.

“I’ve never heard of the blast-tailed snail before.” Praris rolled her eyes. “A new species? Are the gamekeepers conducting animal hybridization experiments?”

“I will sincerely pray to Merlin that he fails soon.” Pansy pushed away the seafood soup at noon with disgust. “As long as this course involves raising whelks, I will never touch seafood.”

The afternoon classes were much "cleaner." They had a drowsy history of magic class in the afternoon, followed by Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration class.

The transformation magic for first graders is still life to still life, for second graders it's animals to still life, and for third graders it's still life to animals.

In fourth grade, Professor McGonagall began teaching about animal-to-animal transformation, or interspecies conversion. The class structure was rigorous and meticulous, progressing step by step, so that the knowledge was unconsciously absorbed into students' minds.

In order to introduce the major challenge of animals transforming into animals, Professor McGonagall chose to use the "hedgehog turning into a pincushion" as an example of "animals turning into still objects."

"Before animals can become animals, we need to understand their characteristics. Like hedgehogs and pincushions, can anyone tell me what they have in common? Yes, Miss Avery is right, the structure of a hedgehog's quills and the needles on a pincushion is very similar. We can think of a hedgehog's quills as needles and its body as a pincushion."

“Simply learning how to transform animals into animals is quite a leap for students. But what if, in the early stages of learning, we break down the transformation of animals into animals into inanimate objects, and then into animals from inanimate objects? This brings us back to the content we learned in the second and third grades.”

"Therefore, grasping the commonalities between the two types of animals and using still life as a bridge to transform animals is the essence of understanding the transformation of animals."

Only by taking Professor McGonagall's class can one understand what a classroom rich in logical aesthetics should look like.

As the Slytherins walked out of the classroom to the sound of the dismissal bell, Millison muttered to herself, "She has a point. If only my brain and hands could work together."

Praris gently took Millison's hand and said with a smile, "Then you should talk to it quickly—Millie's hand, are you there? Did you hear what your master said?"

“Oh, it really spoke! Millie, it said its talent lies in hand-to-hand combat and boxing.”

Pansy and Daphne burst into laughter, playfully pushing and shoving each other.

Millison angrily withdrew his hand and said, "You traitorous hand!"

"Weasley! Hey! Weasley!"

As they reached the foyer, Draco's smug voice suddenly rang out.