Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

"Trick or Treat!"

The cheerful voices of the students echoed in the Great Hall, and Dumbledore chuckled warmly.

With a flick of his wand, pumpkin pies, pumpkin scones, chiffon cakes, and cookies appeared on the tables.

It was October 31st—Halloween.

After last year's interruption due to the troll, the students' excitement was even higher this year, making the celebration livelier than ever.

"Hey, Mirabel, did you hear that Malfoy became the Seeker for the Quidditch team?"

"Yeah. Apparently, he bribed his way in by giving Nimbus 2001s to all his teammates."

Edith commented as she bit into a scone, to which Mirabel replied indifferently.

How Malfoy managed to join the team didn't matter to her.

After all, if that's the only way he could secure a spot, no amount of fancy broomsticks would make a difference.

In her opinion, Malfoy could never beat Harry Potter, not with methods like those.

"This gives Slytherin a big advantage. What do you think about this year's Quidditch Cup, Mirabel?"

"If they had made Malfoy a Beater instead of a Seeker, they might have had a chance at winning. He's not suited to being a Seeker."

"So, in other words..."

"Unless something unusual happens, Gryffindor will win. Just like last year."

Last year, Harry Potter, despite being a first-year, displayed extraordinary talent and nearly led his team to victory.

But before the final match, he fell unconscious, and the Quidditch Cup ultimately went to Slytherin.

Most agreed that Gryffindor would have won if not for that incident, and Mirabel was among them.

"You know, maybe you should join the team, Mirabel. With you, they'd definitely win."

"Practicing would be a waste of time. I'd rather use that time for magical research."

"You're already strong enough. What more could you achieve with research? Planning world domination?"

"And if I said yes?"

"...Please don't joke like that. It doesn't sound like a joke coming from you..."

Truth be told, she wasn't joking at all, but she doubted anyone would believe her sincerity.

Edith forced a strained smile and took a bite of a pumpkin cookie.

Mirabel said nothing more, cutting a slice of chiffon cake and placing it on her plate.

As she savored the soft cake, her thoughts turned serious. It's time to act.

Initially, she had planned to deal with the Basilisk as soon as she arrived at the school.

She knew it was in the Chamber of Secrets, and by sending mice to scout the area, she thought she could pinpoint its location and Apparate there directly.

But things weren't so simple.

Whenever she sent mice to explore the Chamber, they failed and returned with nothing but excuses.

Even though she knew it was underground and had instructed them to search there, they couldn't find it.

It seemed that entering the Chamber through any means other than the proper entrance was exceedingly difficult.

Whether it was magical barriers or some other mechanism, the Chamber of Secrets wasn't so easily breached by mere mice.

Could Tom Riddle have done something?

Whatever the case, she realized she had underestimated the Chamber of Secrets.

After coming to this realization, she ceased the mice's efforts and decided to wait.

Without a way to determine the Chamber's exact coordinates, Apparating was too dangerous.

Strictly speaking, it was possible, but such an unstable attempt could leave her body "scattered."

For now, the only option was to wait for the Basilisk to emerge.

The question is when.

Opportunities to encounter the creature would arise four times:

When Argus Filch's pet, Mrs. Norris, is attacked.

When Colin Creevey, a first-year Gryffindor, is attacked.

When Justin Finch-Fletchley from Hufflepuff and Nearly Headless Nick are attacked.

When Hermione Granger and Ravenclaw's Penelope Clearwater are attacked.

To ensure success, the fourth incident was the best option.

The difference between the fourth attack and the others was that the exact location and timing were known.

The other attacks only vaguely mentioned locations like corridors or staircases.

Even if she assigned mice to tail the victims, they'd likely be devoured, leaving her without intel.

Arriving after an attack would also be too late.

Even if she encountered the creature by chance, it might escape, and she might never see it again.

The fourth attack, however, was perfect.

The location was near the library, and the timing coincided with the Gryffindor vs. Hufflepuff Quidditch match.

Knowing the exact location made it easy to set traps or lay in wait.

There was no urgent need to rush. Whether cats or students fell victim didn't concern Mirabel, and even if someone died, it wouldn't bother her.

What mattered was eliminating the Basilisk for good.

This year, much like the last, would be spent in dull anticipation, waiting for the right moment.

The thought alone made her feel a little melancholy.

"The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, beware."

The event occurred as students were returning to their respective houses after the Halloween party.

On the third floor, in the middle of a corridor, something strange caught the attention of many students, causing them to stop in their tracks.

There was writing scrawled on the wall, a puddle of water spreading across the floor, and Mrs. Norris, the caretaker's cat, hanging lifelessly from a torch bracket. In front of this eerie scene stood Harry Potter and his friends, frozen in shock.

The festive atmosphere from the party evaporated in an instant, replaced by a heavy silence that held everyone in place. It was Draco Malfoy's voice, brimming with glee, that finally broke the silence, echoing down the corridor.

"The enemies of the Heir, beware! You're next, filthy Mudbloods!"

Draco's excitement was palpable as he shouted, his voice carrying through the corridor. It drew the attention of Argus Filch, the caretaker, and several teachers, who came rushing to the scene.

Filch, spotting Harry, immediately began yelling, "You did this, didn't you?" and moved aggressively toward him.

Of course, a second-year student like Harry couldn't possibly have done such a thing, but Filch, consumed by rage, was beyond reasoning. It seemed likely there had been some prior conflict, as Filch appeared convinced that Harry was the culprit.

"Argus, come with me. Potter, Weasley, Granger, you three as well," said Dumbledore.

"My office is just upstairs, Headmaster," interjected Gilderoy Lockhart eagerly. "You can use it."

"Thank you, Gilderoy," Dumbledore replied calmly, picking up Mrs. Norris and leading the group away.

The remaining students stood silently for a moment, but soon the corridor buzzed with chatter as speculation about what had happened spread. Edith, looking uneasy, turned to Mirabel with a worried voice.

"'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened'… Mirabel, what does that mean?"

"No idea… but it's nothing good, that's for sure," Mirabel replied nonchalantly, though she knew exactly what it meant. She simply didn't feel like explaining.

Instead, Draco Malfoy, grinning smugly, stepped forward to take on the role of storyteller.

"Let me enlighten you," he began, clearly enjoying himself.

"There's a secret chamber in this school left behind by the great founder Salazar Slytherin himself. He believed Muggle-borns were unworthy of studying magic and sealed a monster inside the Chamber of Secrets to purge the school of them."

"A monster?" Edith asked, her voice trembling slightly.

"Yes, Edith," Draco said smugly. "A terrifying creature that only the Heir of Slytherin can control. Now that the chamber has been opened, the Heir's enemies will be wiped out, leaving only pure-blooded wizards at Hogwarts."

As he spoke, Draco turned his smirking face toward Mirabel.

Although she came from an impeccable pure-blood lineage, Mirabel's open disdain for pure-blood supremacy marked her as an enemy in Draco's eyes.

"Beresford," he said with mock sincerity, "you've been known to reject pure-blood ideology. Perhaps it's time to reconsider. If you apologize and pledge your allegiance to pure-blood supremacy, you might be spared."

"...Heh," Mirabel chuckled darkly.

Her response wasn't one of fear or submission but a smirk of disdain as she gazed down at Draco.

"How bold of you, a mere fox borrowing the authority of a tiger," she said coldly.

"What did you say?!" Draco snapped, his face flushing with anger.

"Don't make me laugh, Malfoy. Why should I, Mirabel, bow to such a pathetic ideology? If anything, this suits me just fine. I'll tear that so-called monster apart and display its remains as a warning to others."

Draco and Edith both swallowed hard at her words. There was something unsettling about Mirabel—an aura that suggested she might actually be capable of taking down the Slytherin monster without hesitation.

"Salazar Slytherin's legacy? It's nothing more than his backward beliefs embodied. Destroying it with my own hands would be incredibly satisfying," she said with chilling sincerity.

Draco, pale and visibly unnerved, retreated quickly without another word. After he disappeared down the corridor, Mirabel and Edith turned toward the stairs leading to their dormitory.

As they reached the entrance to the Slytherin common room, Edith hesitated for a moment before speaking in a small, shaky voice.

"Mirabel," she began.

"What?"

"About what you said to Malfoy earlier… even if you meant it, maybe you shouldn't say things like that. If you want to get along in Slytherin, pure-blood ideology is pretty deeply ingrained. It's not something you can ignore."

"Not my concern," Mirabel replied bluntly, brushing off Edith's caution.

Edith couldn't help but let out a wry smile.

Her friend truly was unshakable—always brimming with confidence, arrogant, selfish, and completely unwilling to yield, pander, or reflect.

Mirabel's imperious attitude, as though she were the very center of the world, showed no signs of wavering. If anything, it seemed to grow even stronger in moments like these.

Edith found herself envying that.

Yes, Mirabel might be fundamentally wrong as a person. Perhaps even one of the worst kinds.

But at the same time, Edith couldn't help but wonder—if she could be as resolute as Mirabel, how liberating that would feel.

To live without fear of anyone, to stand firm in one's identity, to live without a single shred of pretense—how much pride would that bring?

Such thoughts sparked a small twinge of jealousy.

"Mirabel," Edith said, "I feel like… even if you'd been born a Muggle, you'd still be the same as you are now."

"Of course. Even if my parents were Muggles, I'd still be me," Mirabel replied without hesitation.

"Exactly… but, you know, not everyone is like that," Edith said, a faint trace of self-deprecation in her smile.

Yes, Mirabel was strong. But not everyone could be like her.

"There are non-pureblood students in Slytherin too. But they'd never admit it openly," Edith said.

"Hmph. Likely because they'd be ostracized, right? How pathetic."

"Yes, it's absurdly pathetic. But that absurdity weighs heavily on them.

They hide the truth, lie about being purebloods, and join in mocking Muggle-borns. Inside, they're constantly terrified of being found out. That's how some of them get through their school life."

Edith opened her mouth to say something more, but the words didn't come out.

She took a deep breath, calmed herself, and finally asked the one question lingering in her heart.

"Mirabel… what do you think of those students?"

Edith's question carried both hope and fear.

She didn't know what this question truly meant to her, but regardless of who asked it, Mirabel's answer would always be the same.

She spoke and acted solely based on her own values, never swaying.

And so, without a moment's hesitation, she delivered her cold, unflinching reply.

"Weaklings trapped in contemptible thoughts. And what of it?"

Edith let out a faint, sorrowful smile.

"You really… never waver," she said softly, before turning away.

She headed in the opposite direction from the dormitory.

"Sorry, I need to stop by the bathroom. You go on ahead," she said and then ran off.

Mirabel didn't call after her.

Perhaps that question had stemmed from Edith's own struggles and pain. And Mirabel's answer had likely not been what Edith was hoping for.

But even so, Mirabel had no intention of changing her opinion. If this caused Edith to distance herself, it only meant their friendship wasn't meant to last.

In truth, Mirabel wondered if what they had even counted as friendship to begin with.

She shook her head slightly at that thought and turned to head back toward the dormitory.

But she stopped abruptly, sensing someone else's presence.

"Mirabel," a calm voice called out.

"…Headmaster Dumbledore," Mirabel replied.

When had he arrived?

From around the corner, Dumbledore emerged, his compassionate blue eyes glinting as they fixed on her.

She disliked those eyes, feeling as though they saw through everything.

He glanced briefly in the direction Edith had run off, then spoke gently.

"Aren't you going to go after her?"

"This matter has nothing to do with you," Mirabel replied curtly.

Though posed as a question, Dumbledore's words carried the imperative undertone of "go after her."

Mirabel dismissed them with a single, curt reply.

"Mirabel, the girl bears pain in her heart… Surely you can see that," Dumbledore urged.

"I see it, and still, I do not go after her. I trust you're not so blind as to misunderstand the significance of that," Mirabel countered.

Edith's pain and struggles were her own.

Yes, Mirabel could chase after her, offer words of comfort, and make it seem as if she was healing Edith's wounds. She could say, "It's alright; I'll protect you," and extend a reassuring hand.

Such methods could indeed serve as a way to gather allies, an effective strategy if she chose to employ it.

But for now, Mirabel had no intention of using such an approach with Edith.

"…Not everyone possesses the unwavering strength that you do," Dumbledore said quietly.

"They struggle, they hurt, and they find support in one another. That is how people live their lives. As a friend, have you no desire to support her?"

"Only those too weak to stand on their own need support. Such a bond would not last with me anyway.

If I were to allow someone to stand at my side, it would only be someone strong enough to rise on their own two feet."

Mirabel's cold declaration—she had no use for those who couldn't keep up with her—echoed with finality.

Dumbledore saw in her a reflection of his younger self.

Yes, she was eerily similar to the man he once was—a wizard who had been consumed by pride in his own brilliance.

Dumbledore, too, had lived with an isolating loneliness borne of his extraordinary talent, never meeting anyone who could truly stand as his equal.

It was this same loneliness that had drawn him so irresistibly to Grindelwald, the only one who could match him.

"Friends are the greatest treasure, Mirabel. By the time you lose them, it's already too late," Dumbledore said gently.

This girl had infinite potential.

Depending on the path she chose, she could rival Voldemort, Dumbledore himself, Gryffindor, or even Slytherin.

She could rise to become a hero unlike any figure from the past, a legend unparalleled in history.

And that was precisely why Dumbledore couldn't bear to see her follow a twisted path, much like he once had.

"…Unnecessary meddling, Headmaster," Mirabel replied dismissively.

His words didn't reach her. With a bored snort, she turned on her heel and headed back to her dormitory.

Is it hopeless after all? Dumbledore wondered.

He wanted to believe that no one was born evil. He wanted to think there was human warmth in her heart.

But her behavior and words thus far made it hard to see.

Even the presence of Edith, her supposed friend, had failed to evoke that warmth. And even now, their friendship seemed fragile and fleeting.

Could there really be any humanity in this girl?

Dumbledore pondered this question as he shook his head slightly.

If I don't believe in her, who will? he thought to himself.

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09