HP North Star's Radiance

Praris took small bites of his burrito: "Soul magic research—have you ever done this before?"

“The Dark Lord did let me research this. But I only did it for a few days before he wouldn’t let me continue,” Winnie recalled. “I asked him why, and he said I wasn’t suited for this.”

“Very suspicious,” Prarese said.

Winnie shrugged. "No doubt about it. The Dark Lord has been like this ever since I graduated. He's naturally suspicious and fickle."

Winnie picked up a book that Praris was reading and discovered it was Hamlet.

Winnie stroked the book cover and said, "Muggles are so interesting, aren't they—when fate is sealed, what choices should we make? Do you think Potter ever thought about that?"

"Have you thought about it?" Praris swallowed the last bite of her burrito.

Winnie smiled briefly: "I've thought about it, for fourteen or fifteen years. Without the Dark Lord, I might not have become the wizard with the most spells. But without the Dark Lord, would I really be walking on a smooth path? Would I not be tempted by other things?"

Chapter 98 Summer Vacation Date

One undeniable fact is that following Voldemort completely changed Winnie Brown.

From that time on, she stopped obsessing over more and more magical spells, and stopped striving for greater power. Instead, she found peace with her own abilities.

But she was absolutely not grateful to Voldemort, not at all.

Suffering should not be thanked, and those days that tormented her conscience were not worth her gratitude.

The only people she should be grateful to are Dumbledore, who helped her get through it, and herself, who was determined to get through it.

“That’s all in the past,” Prarese said.

“That’s all in the past,” Winnie repeated Priece’s words.

It's not just young people who feel lost; even people in their seventies and eighties will have things they can't get over.

But that's life. No matter how hard you feel, you eventually have to get through it. No matter how confused you are, you still have to move forward step by step.

The streets of London.

"This is ridiculous! Why are we living in a place where Muggles live—ugh!"

Praris scooped up a little ice cream with a small spoon and put it into Draco's mouth: "It tastes like blueberry jam. That Muggle said it's Greek ice cream."

Draco frowned and swallowed: "Muggle food..."

“I’ve eaten at all the restaurants in Diagon Alley, let’s try something new,” Praris said curiously. “What did you just say—what happened to Potter again?”

Draco gave a dismissive smile: "He used a wand in a Muggle-populated area, and the Ministry of Magic is going to expel him... If you ask me, you should leave London and go out and see the world. You didn't like to move around much when you were in school."

“Didn’t he use it before?” Praris automatically ignored Draco’s last sentence, “He inflated his aunt’s breasts.”

Draco said coldly, "First offenses and repeat offenses are different. Before, that idiot Fudge made a big deal out of it. But now... it's not so easy to talk about. My dad is waiting to see the outcome of Potter's trial!"

"Trial?" Praris blinked. "A trial? I thought this was a trivial matter that didn't warrant a trial."

Minor offenses like a student using magic without permission fall under the jurisdiction of the Office for the Prohibition of Abuse of Magic. The normal procedure is for the student to meet with the director in person at the office, perhaps with an assistant to record the conversation.

The Ministry of Magic's legal interpretation is very flexible. Under lenient circumstances, unless someone actually dies, it doesn't necessarily warrant a trial for Wizengamor.

After all, everyone is very busy.

"Whether it's necessary or not—" Draco sneered, "It's not just about what the law says, it's also about what Fudge and Wizengamo think."

Praris remembered. It was the same when the Ministry of Magic tried the hippogriffs. Before the results were even out, the executioners were already in place.

No wonder the Slytherins are so ambitious.

From the Ministry of Magic's perspective, in the face of power, the law is like a little girl who can be dressed up however one pleases.

Draco drawled, “My father said I’ll be chosen as a prefect before school starts. Did Professor Snape tell you who he’s planning to choose as the prefect?”

Draco believed this was a foregone conclusion.

Regardless of gender, Prasris Prince is the best and strongest in Slytherin.

If she doesn't deserve to be a prefect, then no one does.

The thought of hearing from others that Malfoy and Prince were the Slytherin prefects and chairs after school started made Draco's lips curl into a smile.

“No.” Praris chuckled. “It’s summer vacation now, where am I supposed to see the professor? Besides, can you imagine him writing to me and revealing who the prefect is?”

Draco tried to imagine it... but couldn't.

It wasn't easy to get Praris, who didn't like going out, to come out, so Draco decided to change the subject.

Is this considered a date? Can this even be considered a date?

Draco thought with frustration that the date wasn't quite what he had imagined.

His initial plan was to invite them out and then go to some concerts or to Shakespeare's Theatre to see a Muggle play. In first grade, Prareas had told him the story of Demetrius, a Muggle. Although it was a Muggle story, Draco was reluctantly forced to listen.

—Actually, the main problem was that I couldn't move at the time, so I couldn't ignore it even if I wanted to.

Strategist Pansy says that when dating, you should find things that interest your partner.

Draco was willing to sacrifice some of his time to accompany her to Muggle plays, even though he looked down on them. But as it turned out, Pras's thoughts were like clouds in the sky, ever-changing and unpredictable, something Draco could never grasp.

"I want the camellia flavor," Praris ordered confidently.

Draco sat on a small stool on a London street, boiling wax while searching through a pile of small bottles for camellia essential oil.

This is outrageous! They're actually trying to make Muggle scented candles on the streets of London...

Draco felt he was sick, and quite sick.

Did Praris use an aphrodisiac on him?

Didn't he hate Muggles and Muggle stuff the most?

Why did I plan to see a Muggle play for her?

Why would I be here making Muggle scented candles for her?

If Dad knew what he was doing, he would definitely be angry.

“That’s really nice.” Praris held up the scented candle cup to the sunlight. “I’m going to put it on my bedside table.”

Well, actually...

As Draco looked at Praris's smile, he gradually lost the ability to hear the voices of the Muggles around him.

He could only hear himself saying:

It's not like we have to tell Mom and Dad everything, right?

He has grown up.

Prarese said she couldn't understand what she was thinking. For the first time, she felt that her brain was no longer a familiar friend, but had become strange and incomprehensible.

Why do I always find myself making things difficult for someone when I like them?

Yes, Prareas admits he has a bit of a crush on Draco.

She understood Draco's plan very easily; it was full of compromises and concessions made for her—he must have done a lot of mental preparation for it.

Praris, like an unreasonable child, barged into Draco's psychological defenses and shattered them all.

“Experience making scented candles…” Praris stopped in front of the booth.

Draco raised an eyebrow and said dismissively, "What's so great about Muggle stuff? I have plenty of magical scented candles at home, what kind do you want—?"

"Did you make those candles?" Praris asked seriously.

Draco lowered his head slightly and hesitated before saying to her, "Uh, no, but I can..."

“We can do it together,” Praris said, pointing to the stall.

I don't know what word offended Draco, but he blinked rapidly a few times, turned his face to the side other than Praris's, and chuckled briefly: "It's just a candle! It's no big deal, do it if you want!"

That's what they said, but in the end, it was Draco who took the action.

Maybe it's because he said he could?

Prarese sat down next to Draco, holding his suit jacket.

The stall owner asked Praris with a smile, "Your boyfriend is really good with his hands."

Draco didn't even need the stall owner to teach him; after watching for a few minutes, he was able to do it himself.

“Huh?” Praris paused for a moment. “Yes, he’s very skilled with his hands.”

Within seconds, Draco's ears turned the same color as the sunset.

Praris chatted with the stall owner for a few minutes, then turned around and noticed that the guy's every move had suddenly become very affected. Even the simplest actions were exaggerated to make them more pleasing to the eye.

"Pfft." Praris couldn't help but laugh, resting his chin on his hand as he watched Draco put on his performance art.

Like a peacock spreading its tail feathers, Praris thought to himself in a trance.

As the sun was about to set, they arrived at a lawn in London that was said to be a popular spot for couples to meet.

The grass was full of couples watching the sunset, and Draco and Prareus sat among them.

"Is there any fundamental difference between this and watching the sunset elsewhere?" Praris asked.

Draco was silent for a moment: "No, I don't think so."

"Then why are we here?" Praris asked again.

Prareas thought that Draco hadn't even complained that everyone here was a Muggle.

Draco was silent for a moment, then said, "I don't know either."

“Idiot,” Praris said.

The idiot secretly moved closer to Praris, pressing his head against hers.

The fool thought that if he smelled love potion, it would smell like herbs and magic potions.

……

12 Grimmauld Place.

Winnie hurried up the stairs and ran into Harry and his two friends coming down.

“Hermione, have you seen Dumbledore?” Winnie asked.

Harry thought that this witch in such a hurry looked completely different from the other wizards, and there was something about her that made her seem out of place.