Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

Since that humiliating defeat, the Gryffindor Quidditch team had lost much of its spirit.

Oliver, in particular, was deeply affected—so much so that he would sometimes sit in a daze all day, as if the Dementors had drained him of every ounce of his passion for victory.

But amidst the gloom, Harry alone remained energized, dedicating himself to rigorous practice and, in his spare time, studying the Patronus Charm under Lupin's guidance.

He already knew that Gryffindor's chances of winning were slim. The only hope was if Slytherin lost to another team. Unfortunately, Harry knew all too well that Mirabel was not the kind of person to lose.

No matter the opponent, Harry couldn't imagine her tasting defeat or falling to her knees.

She would win, undoubtedly, and with that maddening air of confidence intact. She would claim victory overwhelmingly, as though it was inevitable from the start.

And strangely, Harry was okay with that.

If she had utterly crushed them, it was only fitting that she wouldn't lose easily to anyone else.

He wanted her to remain an invincible presence, a supreme victor.

Because only then would there be meaning in surpassing her.

"Hmm, how about this? Uh… in 1396, a griffin injured a witch but was acquitted... Oh, never mind. The witch was its owner and petitioned for its release, so that's why it was let go."

"Nothing promising here either. Honestly, isn't it impossible? Getting a Hippogriff acquitted…"

Christmas had passed, and life at Hogwarts was starting to regain its energy.

In the library, Harry, Hermione, and Edith were gathered, discussing how to save Buckbeak, the Hippogriff who had injured Malfoy, from being sentenced to death. They were poring over past cases, but nothing seemed particularly useful.

"Really, Edith? Are you saying you're okay with innocent Buckbeak being executed?"

"I'm not saying that, but realistically, no matter how much we dig through past cases, we won't get anywhere unless we deal with the Malfoy family's influence."

"Ugh… that's true, but still…"

Listening to Hermione and Edith debate, Harry couldn't help but feel the weight of the challenge before them.

Anyone could see that the execution of the Hippogriff was unjustified.

Granted, letting it off completely scot-free after injuring a student might be too much, but a death sentence was excessive.

Yet, despite the obvious unfairness, the execution was being pushed forward, largely due to the Malfoys' overwhelming influence.

It was hard not to feel that without addressing the root of the problem—the Malfoys' power—any efforts to save Buckbeak would be in vain.

"What I mean is, a straightforward approach probably won't work anymore.

If it were something we could handle, Dumbledore would've resolved it long ago.

Even he could only barely get Hagrid cleared, so…"

"Then what's the alternative? Should we take out all the Ministry officials who come here?"

"Uh, yeah, that's a bit extreme… though I guess Mirabel might actually pull it off…"

As he listened to their conversation, Harry began to think.

It was true—if anyone could find a way out of this mess, it would be Mirabel.

When they had talked at her summer villa, she had boldly claimed she could manipulate even the laws of the wizarding world.

If she said it, Harry believed she could do it.

Though her methods would undoubtedly stray from the conventional, at this moment, Harry couldn't help but envy that kind of power.

"What would Beresford… what would she do?"

"Hmm… Well, she probably wouldn't rely on brute force. She mentioned that the Malfoys' influence outweighed hers.

But, I mean, it's Mirabel. She'd figure something out."

Edith's words carried a sense of absolute trust.

"Mirabel would make it happen."

It was a statement of unwavering belief, with no need for evidence.

Harry couldn't help but think that if Mirabel used her power for good, they wouldn't even need to be having this discussion.

She would've secured Buckbeak's freedom effortlessly, and Sirius Black would've been caught just as easily.

It was maddening to realize the stark difference between them, even in a situation like this.

"The wall… is so high…"

"Huh?"

Hermione reacted to his muttered words, but Harry dismissed it, saying it was nothing.

Even so, he couldn't help but marvel at how formidable a rival he had chosen for himself.

Granted, their rivalry was limited to Quidditch, and losing to her in other areas wasn't as painful. But still, losing stung.

The wall he needed to overcome was impossibly high.

The Year-End Exams Begin

Once again, the time of year had arrived when students screamed in despair over their end-of-term exams.

The Transfiguration test required students to transform a teapot into a tortoise, followed by Charms, which featured the "Cheering Charm." This charm proved to be so effective that many students ended up laughing uncontrollably.

Even Edith seemed to have overdone it, nearly causing Malfoy to laugh himself to death.

The day ended with the History of Magic exam.

Professor Binns' lectures were notoriously difficult to follow, so students who hadn't paid attention—about 90% of them—inevitably stumbled here.

On the second day, the subjects were Care of Magical Creatures, Potions, and Astronomy.

Care of Magical Creatures was simple—too simple, to the point of barely qualifying as a test.

All one had to do to pass was keep their Lettuce-Eating Slug alive until the exam ended.

(Since these slugs thrived best when left alone, anyone could pass.)

This subject undoubtedly inflated the average scores unnecessarily.

The day continued with Potions and Astronomy before drawing to a close.

The third day brought Herbology, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and elective subjects like Muggle Studies.

The electives varied among students; some took Divination. According to Mirabel, however, taking Divination was a waste of time.

The reason? The course's professor, Sybill Trelawney, was more of a fraud than a seer, oblivious to her own true potential.

She did possess the genuine ability to foresee the future and make prophecies, but her ignorance of her own gift rendered her useless in everyday matters.

To Mirabel, Trelawney was the hardest person to evaluate—someone with real talent but utterly incompetent.

In any case, she was hardly fit to teach a legitimate class.

While Dumbledore's decision to keep her on staff was likely motivated by a desire to safeguard her prophetic abilities, it only solidified his reputation as a cunning old fox.

"Ah, it's over! That feeling of relief when exams are done is the best, isn't it?"

"Wouldn't know. I don't share that sentiment."

"Figures... You never have anything to worry about, do you?"

As the exams ended, Edith and Mirabel walked back toward the Slytherin common room.

Exams were always nerve-wracking, but the sense of freedom afterward was undeniably satisfying.

All that remained was to hope the returned grades exceeded expectations, though that uncertainty was always nerve-wracking.

"You'll probably be top of the year again, right?"

"Not necessarily. Granger seemed unusually determined this year."

"Oh? How so?"

"She was attending multiple classes simultaneously. She must have been using a Time-Turner."

A Time-Turner was a highly advanced magical artifact that allowed the user to travel back in time.

Due to its potential dangers, its use required authorization from the Ministry of Magic, making it something no ordinary student could access.

McGonagall must have pulled some strings out of fondness for Hermione, much like how Dumbledore doted on Harry.

As they discussed this, Hermione herself came running toward them, her face pale with worry.

"Edith!"

"Hermione? What's wrong?"

"I-It's Hagrid... He just sent a letter. They lost the appeal..."

Edith gasped at the news, but Mirabel showed no reaction whatsoever.

To her, the fate of one or two Hippogriffs wasn't worth fretting over.

While she found it wasteful to sacrifice such a rare magical creature for Malfoy's petty satisfaction, that was the extent of her concern.

Whether the Hippogriff lived or died simply didn't matter to her.

"What about Harry?"

"He already knows. W-We're planning to visit Hagrid, and... you'll come too, won't you?"

"Of course!"

As Hermione and Edith talked, Mirabel thought coldly about how strange things had turned out.

Last year, as a result of her own manipulations, Ronald Weasley had disappeared, and Edith had seamlessly taken his place in their group.

It was as though she had filled a role left vacant, standing where Ron should have been.

Though Edith had always been unusually mild-mannered for a Slytherin, it now seemed like she was truly in the wrong house.

"Mirabel!"

"I'm not going. Why should I involve myself in the life or death of mere livestock?"

"Of course, you wouldn't..."

Mirabel was undeniably a formidable ally when on your side.

That was precisely why Edith had asked her, but her disinterested response was hardly surprising.

Edith shrugged, dropping her shoulders in resignation. She already knew that her independent, headstrong friend would respond this way.

"I'll Be Back Soon."

"Yeah, but you all are quite eccentric."

Watching Edith and Hermione head off, Mirabel turned toward the Slytherin common room.

She could have chosen to accompany them, but there was no enemy to fight this time, no task requiring her involvement. Unlike the threats posed by Quirrell two years ago or Tom Riddle last year, this situation held no direct confrontation.

Of course, Mirabel had considered eliminating Wormtail.

For someone like her, who controlled every rat in the castle as familiars, tracking Wormtail in his Animagus form was trivial.

Though Wormtail himself remained blissfully unaware, he had been under Mirabel's surveillance the entire time.

Yet, Mirabel refrained from acting. Killing him now would prevent Voldemort's resurrection.

And that was precisely what Mirabel could not allow.

Voldemort had to return. She needed him restored to full strength so she could face him and kill him with her own hands.

This was Mirabel's pride.

It would have been easy to stop Voldemort's return. She could have maneuvered against Dumbledore alone, avoiding any confrontation with the Dark Lord, and still aimed to seize control of the wizarding world.

But would that victory be worth anything? Could she truly claim to have eradicated the old pure-blood supremacists without confronting the embodiment of their ideals?

Would such a triumph carry meaning?

The answer was no.

Such a victory would be hollow.

Even if she dominated the wizarding world through such methods, the fear of "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named" would linger in people's hearts.

His legend would grow, deified as an unassailable figure in memory.

That was unacceptable. She had to resurrect him.

Mirabel Beresford needed to crush him, humiliate him, and annihilate him utterly.

She would seize a victory so absolute that even the most terrified subjects of Voldemort would recognize it. His corpse would serve as a testament, a declaration of her dominance.

Only then would Voldemort's shadow be erased from their hearts, replaced by Mirabel's image as an irrefutable authority.

Voldemort and Dumbledore must be defeated in their prime—by her hand!

Allowing Voldemort to remain in his current fragile, ghostly state was intolerable. Killing a worthless insect carried no meaning.

The one she wanted to destroy was the Dark Lord. There was no satisfaction in obliterating a defenseless wretch.

Thus, she spared Wormtail.

For the sake of Voldemort's resurrection, she let the filthy rat live.

The preparations for her grand confrontation were nearly complete.

She was on the brink of achieving true immortality, becoming an unmatched, transcendent being.

All that remained was the battle itself.

To determine who was truly superior. To decide who deserved to rule the wizarding world.

She would make it clear, obliterate her adversaries, and reign supreme.

This was Mirabel Beresford's vision of ultimate victory and absolute control.

For now, she waited.

Until the time was ripe.

Of course, she wasn't one to sit idly by.

Fortunately, Hogwarts offered no shortage of ways to pass time and gather knowledge.

Mirabel made her way to the eighth floor, stopping before a blank wall. She concentrated and thought, "The place where everything is hidden."

A door appeared, and Mirabel entered.

This was the Room of Requirement, a magical space that adapted to the desires of those who entered it.

What Mirabel sought was the "Room of Hidden Things," where countless others had stashed their contraband and secrets over the years.

The space was cluttered with magical artifacts, forbidden books, and various curiosities that greatly satisfied her curiosity.

"...Huh?"

Her eyes narrowed as she picked up a hair ornament lying on a nearby wooden box.

The object exuded a distinctly sinister aura, its malevolent energy palpable.

It seemed to have a psychic influence, though not strong enough to shake Mirabel's formidable will. To her, it was merely irritating.

The hair ornament had been here for some time, and its presence was a constant distraction.

Every time she visited, it caught her attention and disrupted her focus.

"..."

"This is in the way."

Deciding the tiara was a nuisance, Mirabel finally picked it up for the first time to remove it from the room.

The moment she touched it, she felt a sinister force trying to influence her mind.

Of course, such a force couldn't shake Mirabel. Instead, its desperate resistance led her to a revelation.

Her lips curled into a sly grin, a triumphant glint in her eyes as though she had found a long-lost treasure.

"Ah, I see! Voldemort, you fool… No wonder you were in such a pitiful state."

Mirabel had already suspected the reason Voldemort didn't die the night he was defeated by Harry: the Horcruxes.

She had encountered Tom Riddle's diary last year and realized it was one such object.

For a time, she theorized that Voldemort's immortality was solely tied to the diary.

However, despite its destruction, Voldemort had not perished and continued to play a role in the story, as her "knowledge" confirmed.

This had led Mirabel to consider the possibility of other methods beyond Horcruxes.

But no! The truth was clear: Voldemort's immortality stemmed from the Horcruxes!

And, unbelievably, the man had created multiple Horcruxes!

This explained why the Voldemort she encountered during her first year had been such a pitiful, ghostly wretch.

It had puzzled Mirabel—losing one's body shouldn't weaken the soul to such an extent.

Yet the Voldemort she met was a parasite, incapable of functioning without a host, his soul shrunken and feeble.

Now, it made sense: the creation of multiple Horcruxes had fractured and diminished his soul.

"Of course, it weakens him… Splitting your soul into pieces would do that."

The existence of multiple Horcruxes was now a certainty.

But how many? How many had that fool created?

And where were they now?

Unfortunately, her "knowledge" didn't hold those answers.

Yet the clue lay in her hands: this tiara, a Horcrux!

If she could decipher why it had been chosen as a vessel, she could predict the existence and locations of the others.

"I've got you, Voldemort… The secret of your immortality!"

Now Mirabel knew how to kill him.

She could already feel the thrill of her future victory.

The end-of-year feast, as usual, left all the students except Slytherins in disappointment.

Even Dumbledore had been unable to pull off another miraculous Gryffindor victory this time. The House Cup returned to Slytherin.

Harry and his friends had achieved plenty this year—enough to deserve a hundred points or more—but their heroic acts, such as saving the innocent Sirius Black and rescuing a condemned Hippogriff, couldn't be publicly rewarded without incriminating them.

As a result, the Quidditch scores alone decided the Cup, and Slytherin's dominance, bolstered by Mirabel's extraordinary contributions, became unshakable.

Indeed, the other houses' collective defeat could be attributed to Mirabel alone, and her reputation for overwhelming superiority earned her a mix of fear and awe from every corner of Hogwarts.

To make matters worse, the beloved Professor Lupin had resigned, casting a shadow over the already somber mood.

Slytherin, on the other hand, was in a frenzy of celebration.

The Quidditch team basked in glory, surrounded by admirers, while Marcus Flint repeatedly thanked Mirabel profusely.

Even Snape, in rare high spirits, savored the feast and occasionally directed a smug smile at the defeated Gryffindors.

As for Mirabel, the star of the evening, she received the prestigious Magical Excellence Award for her unparalleled talents, though she seemed indifferent, content to savor her meal quietly.

"So, Black remains a fugitive in the end?"

"Yeah. Harry was really upset about it," Edith replied with a regretful tone as she explained the outcome to Mirabel, who was cutting her steak.

From Edith's account, things had gone awry in Ron's absence.

Apparently, Wormtail, cornered, had revealed himself before Harry and even attempted to kill him. Edith admitted she had been knocked unconscious by Wormtail during the encounter.

From what she'd heard, Sirius Black and Remus Lupin arrived just in time to subdue Wormtail.

However, Lupin's transformation into a werewolf disrupted everything, leading events to unfold as Mirabel already knew.

"By the way, Mirabel, do you really believe that Black isn't a murderer? I was pretty shocked."

"…Well, it's not so much that I believe it; it's just that it makes sense when you put it that way."

"Huh?"

"My pet is a rat. I've known from the start that the Weasleys' rat was an Animagus."

"What?! Then why didn't you tell the Weasleys?!"

Mirabel stabbed a piece of meat with her fork, popped it into her mouth, and chewed.

The juices blended with the sweet and savory sauce, creating a perfect harmony. She followed it with a bite of rice, which complemented the flavor beautifully. Excess sauce dripped onto the rice, enhancing its taste, and she enjoyed the mix in a cycle that reminded her of barbecue meals.

Indeed, white rice paired with meat was unparalleled. Moments like these made her feel oddly nostalgic for her past life in Japan, but delicious food was delicious food—there was no arguing that.

"The only one to blame is that idiot. A rat living for over 12 years? Impossible. Even my own Pyotr died of old age just four days ago."

"Pyotr… You mean that big black rat you had?"

"Yes. When I returned to my dorm after the exams, I found him dead near my bed.

Fortunately, before he passed, he left me dozens of offspring, so I won't lack for pets."

Pyotr, the rat Mirabel had bought before entering Hogwarts and who had helped her dominate the school's rat population, was, in the end, still just a rat. His abrupt death had surprised her a little.

However, his loyalty in leaving behind successors spared her the trouble of finding a new pet, which was a small consolation.

"But the real problem is where Wormtail is now.

He's definitely not in the castle anymore… What do you think, Mirabel?"

"Hmm… Who knows? The whereabouts of sewer rats aren't my concern."

Mirabel's indifferent tone carried as she stabbed a potato with her fork.

Of course, she knew Wormtail had gone back to Voldemort, but there was no need to share that with Edith.

Right now, Edith was in the "Ron role," according to the "original story."

Giving her too much knowledge—especially about pivotal matters—could lead to unforeseen consequences.

"I see… Hey, Mirabel?"

"What is it?"

"That 'offensive Patronus' spell… Could you teach it to me next year?

I've been thinking about it a lot since what happened."

"I've already taught you the basics of Patronus magic. You're not ready for that level yet."

"…Yeah, I know. But still…"

Mirabel narrowed her eyes at Edith's hesitant words.

Edith had asked to learn the Patronus Charm at the beginning of their third year.

Mirabel had taught her the fundamentals of the spell, but now there was a different sense of urgency in Edith's request.

"Are you still bothered about being knocked out?"

"Yeah… In the end, I couldn't do anything. Harry and Hermione solved everything themselves, and that really stung…"

Mirabel sipped her tea, swallowing slowly before glancing at Edith.

So, she was frustrated with her own lack of power.

After last year's ordeal with the Basilisk and this year's confrontation with Wormtail, it was no surprise she felt a strong desire to become stronger.

"It's difficult."

"I know."

"Very well, then…"

Mirabel pulled a piece of paper from her pocket, tossed it onto the table before Edith, and snapped her fingers.

Words began to write themselves on the once-blank sheet, revealing the address: Magnolia Crescent.

Next, a small hand mirror materialized in a puff of smoke, landing gently on the table.

"These are the coordinates to a villa I use. If you're serious about learning, come there during the summer break.

As for communication, don't use owls. Use this mirror."

"What is it?"

"A two-way mirror. It's far more reliable than owl post."

Two-way mirrors worked in pairs, enabling instant communication when one person spoke into one mirror.

Unlike letters delivered by owls, they were faster and far more convenient.

Mirabel valued them highly, one reason she didn't bother keeping an owl.

"Are you sure? This must be expensive."

"It's fine. Keep it."

Though convenient, two-way mirrors were rare and heavily regulated by the Ministry of Magic due to their potential misuse.

These mirrors had a dark history, often used by dark wizards to evade the Ministry's surveillance.

As a result, only a select few trusted individuals or privileged wizards were allowed to own them.

Naturally, their price reflected their rarity and exclusivity.

"If you need me, speak into the mirror."

"Got it."

Edith carefully tucked the mirror into her pocket, looking as if she was wondering how much it would cost to replace if she broke it.

Her demeanor was typical of an ordinary, sensible student.

As Mirabel watched her, she couldn't help but reflect: her days of living as a "normal student" were nearing their end.

If events followed the path of her "knowledge," next year would mark a turning point.

The peaceful days at Hogwarts would be over, and a turbulent era involving the entire wizarding world would begin.

One year until Voldemort's return.

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