Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

For the first time in their third year, a new class was added to the curriculum: Magical Creatures Studies. The inaugural session, taught by Hagrid, was—unsurprisingly—a disaster.

Edith thought the class itself wasn't bad. For someone famous for his love of dangerous beasts, Hagrid had shown restraint in choosing the creature for the lesson, and his explanations were fairly clear. While bringing a potentially aggressive animal to class was questionable, dealing with such creatures was an unavoidable part of magical creature care.

At first, things went well. The creature Hagrid introduced—a Hippogriff—was proud and had a peculiar requirement: one had to bow to it to earn the privilege of riding it. It was like some sort of regal monarch. Most of the students managed to approach it successfully.

Mirabel, however, completely ignored the bowing protocol, engaging in an intense staring contest with the Hippogriff instead. Somehow, she managed to make the creature kneel in submission, demonstrating once again her knack for defying conventional wisdom.

"Staring contests are about dominance," Mirabel explained, "The first one to flinch loses." This wasn't exactly the lesson Hagrid had in mind.

The real trouble started, as usual, with Draco Malfoy. Ignoring Hagrid's instructions, Draco insulted the Hippogriff and was promptly attacked. Though it was entirely his own fault, the incident became a problem for Hagrid. Bringing an animal capable of causing harm made him liable, and now rumors were spreading across the school that Hagrid might lose his job.

"Do you think Hagrid will be fired?" Edith asked on a Friday afternoon as they walked to their Defense Against the Dark Arts class.

Several days had passed, yet Malfoy still wore his arm in a sling, occasionally clutching it and groaning theatrically. Mirabel responded nonchalantly.

"No, he won't. If teachers got fired for minor injuries, most wouldn't last a year," she said matter-of-factly.

"But Malfoy still has his arm bandaged," Edith pointed out.

"If Madam Pomfrey treated it and it hasn't healed by now, then he's the most fragile person alive. It'd be laughable," Mirabel replied dryly. She was certain Malfoy's injury was long healed. He was merely milking it for sympathy and to get Hagrid into trouble.

The real problem was Malfoy's father, Lucius, whose influence in the Ministry of Magic made even minor incidents a big deal.

"Not that I care what happens to Hagrid," Mirabel added as they reached their classroom.

"I just hope this year's Defense class is normal," Edith said as they entered.

The classroom was already bustling with students preparing for the lesson. Mirabel and Edith took seats by the window just as Professor Lupin walked in.

"Hello, everyone," Lupin greeted warmly. "I'm sorry to interrupt your preparations, but today we'll be doing a practical lesson. You won't need your textbooks—just your wands. Follow me."

Excitement rippled through the class. A practical lesson without books? It was unprecedented in Defense Against the Dark Arts, except perhaps for last year's disastrous Dueling Club. This felt different, though, and the students eagerly followed Lupin.

He led them to the staff room, where mismatched old chairs were scattered about. In the corner of the room stood a rattling wardrobe, shaking as though something inside was trying to escape.

"Don't worry," Lupin said reassuringly. "Inside is a mimic monster, a Boggart."

His calm demeanor contrasted sharply with the unease spreading among the students. Facing a magical creature right away wasn't something they'd done before in Defense classes. Even though Gryffindor had already had the same lesson, the anxiety in the room was palpable.

Sensing this, Lupin spoke gently, aiming to dispel their fears.

"The Boggart prefers dark, confined spaces—wardrobes, gaps under beds, lockers," Lupin began. "Now, here's the first question: what exactly is a mimic monster, a Boggart?"

"It transforms into whatever we fear the most. Simple," Malfoy answered smugly.

Since they were having the lesson after Gryffindor, many students already knew about Boggarts.

"Exactly," Lupin nodded. "That's why the Boggart sitting in the darkness of this wardrobe hasn't taken on a form yet. It doesn't know what any of us fear, so it has nothing to transform into."

"What does a Boggart look like before it transforms?" Edith asked.

"Ah, Edith, that's the interesting part. No one knows," Lupin said with a smile. "The moment it's exposed, it immediately changes into something we fear. So, its true form has never been seen."

Encountering a Boggart, it seemed, always meant facing it after it had transformed. No one could see its original form.

"But we have the advantage here," Lupin continued. "Why? Because there are many of us. The most important thing when facing a Boggart is to have company. Do you know why?"

"Uh, because it won't know what to turn into?" Daphne suggested.

"Exactly! If there are multiple people, the Boggart gets confused. Should it turn into a flying severed head? Or a zombie crawling on the ground? Sometimes, in its confusion, it makes ridiculous transformations," Lupin explained, using a soft tone to ease the students' nerves.

"The spell to defeat a Boggart is simple, but it requires mental strength. The weapon against a Boggart is laughter. You must make it take on a form that you find absurd or ridiculous. Let's practice the incantation first, without wands. Repeat after me: Riddikulus! Laughable!"

"Riddikulus! Laughable!" the class chanted in unison.

Lupin smiled, satisfied with their effort. "Good, very good. But the spell alone isn't enough. Hmm... Edith, would you help me demonstrate?"

"M-me?" Edith stammered, stepping forward nervously.

To help the students grasp the concept, Lupin decided to give a demonstration. Edith was chosen as the first volunteer. Among Slytherin's bold personalities, like Mirabel and Malfoy, Edith's reasonable nature made her an ideal choice.

"What are you most afraid of?" Lupin asked gently.

"Uh, a Basilisk," Edith admitted.

At the mention of the Basilisk, a few students visibly flinched. Just a year ago, that terrifying creature had terrorized the school and left several victims in its wake. Edith, one of those affected, still carried the fear deep in her heart.

"A Basilisk, hmm? Then the scariest part would be its eyes," Lupin mused. "Tell me, Edith, do you have a favorite animal?"

"Um... a rabbit, I guess," Edith replied hesitantly.

"Excellent," Lupin said. "Here's what we'll do. When I open the wardrobe, the Boggart will emerge as a Basilisk. At that moment, raise your wand and cast Riddikulus! As you do, focus on imagining the Basilisk's terrifying eyes transforming into the gentle, adorable eyes of a rabbit. Can you picture that?"

The image of a Basilisk with soft, doe-like rabbit eyes flashed in Edith's mind, and she couldn't help but giggle. Her laughter proved contagious, and soon the whole class was chuckling.

Remarkably, the wardrobe began to rattle violently, as if the Boggart inside was panicking. It seemed that laughter truly was its greatest enemy.

"When Edith successfully takes it down, the Boggart will move on to one of you next. Everyone, think about this: what do you fear most, and how can you turn that fear into something ridiculous?"

With those words, the room grew silent. Likely, each student was contemplating their deepest fears. Mirabel, like the others, began to reflect on what she feared the most.

Several candidates came to mind. Annoying as it was, Mirabel had to admit that she, too, experienced fear.

First, "completely unprepared, sloppy food"—the infamous hallmark of British infamy on the global stage.

Next, "a completely inept version of myself." For Mirabel, who loathed incompetence, becoming useless was a fate worse than death. The thought of exposing such pathetic vulnerability was so unbearable that she'd rather not exist.

And then... as much as she hated to admit it, "Albus Dumbledore."

It was impossible to deny the unease caused by that endlessly enigmatic old wizard. Two years ago, he had dismantled every trap she'd set in just four minutes. Although she managed to obtain the shard she sought, the sting of that defeat still lingered.

As these thoughts swirled, unbidden images began to surface in Mirabel's mind.

A clear, unclouded smile directed at her.

Someone's voice calling her a friend.

The radiant back of a young girl, brimming with talent and speaking passionately about her dreams.

A small, broken body, trampled by inept fools and reduced to a shell of its former self.

And finally... her own image, cradling "her," thinking, If it's come to this, better I do it myself...

Mirabel pressed a hand to her forehead, shaking off the thoughts.

Ridiculous. This wasn't fear—just the past, long gone. A Boggart couldn't possibly transform into such fleeting, bygone emotions.

While she mulled it over, Lupin had resumed the lesson. He stood poised, wand raised, ready to open the wardrobe.

"All right, everyone ready? On the count of three. One… two… three!"

On "three," sparks shot from Lupin's wand, striking the wardrobe handle. The doors flew open with a bang, and a massive snake slithered out, its scales scraping ominously against the floor. The students quickly squeezed their eyes shut, wary of its petrifying gaze, even though it was unlikely to have the same effect as a real Basilisk.

Edith let out a small shriek but quickly recovered, raising her wand.

"Riddikulus! Laughable!"

A loud snap, like the crack of a whip, echoed through the room. The Basilisk's terrifying yellow eyes transformed into soft, doe-like ones. The sight was so hilariously incongruous that laughter rippled through the class.

The Basilisk, now immobilized with an expression that could only be described as pitiful, darted its oversized, puppy-like eyes around. The students erupted into laughter, filling the room with echoes of mirth. Defeated, the Boggart-Basilisk stood still, utterly bewildered.

"Next, Blaise!" Lupin called.

The second volunteer was Blaise Zabini, a tall, dark-skinned student. As he stepped forward, the Boggart shifted, taking on a new, intimidating form: a towering figure clad entirely in black, equipped with vicious bear-like claws.

Its mask bore a sinister smile, and a low, mechanical huff emanated from its mouth. The Boggart-Warrior charged forward, clearly intent on grappling him, but Zabini was faster.

With a confident voice, he cast the spell.

"Riddikulus!"

Once again, the crack of a whip echoed through the room, and the Boggart slammed headfirst into the floor as if it had been caught in a hurricane mixer. Following Zabini's success, a thin, dark-haired student stepped forward.

His name was Theodore Nott, a sharp-minded individual known for his exceptional intellect, even among Slytherins. Mirabel herself acknowledged his brilliance, a testament to his remarkable wit.

When Theodore stood before the Boggart, it transformed into a goat-headed demon, Baphomet.

"Riddikulus!"

With a snapping sound, the Baphomet morphed into a simple sheep—no, not just any sheep. It was a thoroughly shorn sheep, stripped of its wool and left looking utterly pitiful. Satisfied with the transformation, Lupin nodded and called on the next student.

"Mirabel! Step forward!"

At the sound of her name, Mirabel approached the front. Yet something strange happened—the Boggart stopped moving. It wriggled in confusion, unable to change from its current sheep form, as though uncertain what shape to take.

The reason lay within Mirabel's formidable mental defenses.

She allowed no one into her heart. She trusted no one, letting no one intrude or read her emotions. This made Mirabel the perfect nemesis for a Boggart, which relied on understanding and mimicking its opponent's fears. Her mind, utterly impenetrable, was filled only with herself.

However, this stalemate was problematic for the lesson. Clicking her tongue in boredom, Mirabel reluctantly projected a thought for the Boggart to latch onto. It didn't matter whether it was her true fear or not.

The Boggart seized on the offering and immediately transformed. Its new form was unmistakable: sparkling blue eyes, half-moon spectacles, a hooked nose, and flowing silver hair and beard. The figure of Albus Dumbledore, the school's headmaster, stood before them.

The sudden appearance of the headmaster left not only Lupin but the entire class in shock.

"Riddikulus!"

The snapping sound of the spell rang out, and Dumbledore's already long beard extended even further, tangling around him until the Boggart-Dumbledore toppled over.

As the faux headmaster lay sprawled on the floor, grinning, Malfoy stepped forward. In his mind, he was surely envisioning his triumphant defeat of the Boggart in spectacular fashion. Yet the Boggart had other plans.

"What the—!?"

To everyone's astonishment, the Boggart transformed into a dazzlingly beautiful girl with golden hair and golden eyes. Her features were so flawless they almost seemed exaggerated, as though her beauty mocked any who dared behold her. Her confident smirk radiated self-assurance.

The figure wore a white button-up shirt with a blue tie, a vest, and a navy skirt, paired with white knee-high socks. Draped over her shoulders like a cape was a black robe, which billowed dramatically despite the absence of wind. She was none other than a perfect replica of Mirabel Beresford.

The fake Mirabel sneered, her golden eyes gazing down at Malfoy with disdain.

"Heh heh heh heh..."

"Eek!"

Her sinister chuckle made Malfoy retreat a step, his face pale. However, he quickly collected himself, raising his wand. Right, he thought. There's nothing to fear. It's just a Boggart, not the real thing! All he had to do was turn it into something ridiculous and laugh at it.

As he steeled himself, a sharp voice rang out from behind him.

"Oh? Malfoy… Do you intend to humiliate me?"

"!!"

The voice made Malfoy pale even further. Right—he'd forgotten. The real Mirabel was here too!

With the fake Mirabel in front of him and the real one behind, Malfoy trembled uncontrollably, caught between the two. If he didn't dispel the fake Mirabel, it might attack him. But if he did, he'd face the real Mirabel's wrath afterward. There was no escape—he was utterly doomed.

Seeing Malfoy's pitiful predicament, Lupin, looking slightly troubled, decided to intervene.

"Here, over here."

Drawing the Boggart toward himself, Lupin prepared to face it. The creature morphed into a silvery orb that floated before him. Looking mildly annoyed, Lupin cast Riddikulus, transforming the orb into a cockroach.

"Next, Millicent!"

The Boggart read Millicent's fears and turned into a giant centipede. But as soon as Millicent uttered the spell, it flipped over onto its back, its countless legs flailing helplessly.

"Good! Pansy, you're up next!"

Pansy's fear manifested as a strange white creature, resembling a mix between a cat and a rabbit, with lifeless red eyes. Tilting its head, the creature spoke in an unsettling voice, "Make a contract with me." However, when Pansy cast her spell, countless projectiles materialized from nowhere, turning the creature into a lifeless husk.

"Excellent, it's getting confused! Daphne, your turn!"

Daphne Greengrass stepped forward at Lupin's call. When she faced the Boggart, it transformed into a towering figure that loomed over her—a Frankenstein-like monster straight out of legend.

"Riddikulus!"

At Daphne's spell, the monstrous figure shrank down to a palm-sized doll, frantically looking around as though disoriented. The terror of Frankenstein's monster lay in its enormous size, and shrinking it rendered it harmless.

The class continued, with each student taking turns. As they confronted the Boggart, its transformations grew slower and weaker, clearly fatigued. It was evident to everyone that the creature was nearing its limit.

"Alright, one last push! Edith, finish it off!"

Edith stepped forward again, raising her wand with determination. The Boggart, now in the form of a Basilisk, was instantly reduced to a harmless little snake that flopped onto the floor. Laughter erupted from the students, and with nowhere left to escape, the Boggart burst apart into a cloud of white smoke, vanishing completely.

The Boggart had been defeated.

"Excellent work, everyone! Five points to each Slytherin who faced the Boggart. Edith, you get ten points since you went twice. When you return to your dorms, read the chapter on Boggarts and submit a summary—that's your homework for today. Class dismissed!"

As the lesson concluded, the students left the classroom, buzzing with excitement and chatting animatedly. Their conversations naturally revolved around their encounters with the Boggart. Edith, too, was brimming with satisfaction, her voice lively as she expressed her joy.

"That was the best Defense Against the Dark Arts class we've had so far."

"Well, to be fair, the previous ones were pretty awful."

Edith's comment left little room for argument. This class stood out as the best they'd had, but only because the earlier lessons had been so terrible. The stark contrast made Lupin's class seem all the more exceptional.

"By the way, why is Mirabel afraid of Dumbledore?" Edith asked.

"...He's one of the few people I currently feel I cannot defeat," Mirabel admitted, frowning. "Someday, he will be a wall I must overcome. But for now, I can't even see the depths of his strength."

Though it burned her with humiliation, Mirabel answered honestly. To aim for greatness, she had to confront her weaknesses head-on. Acknowledging them was the first step to overcoming them. But the sense of defeat was bitter. Without realizing it, her fists had clenched tightly in frustration.

At the same time, Mirabel respected Dumbledore deeply. To her, he was the epitome of a skilled and virtuous wizard, someone worthy of admiration. And that was precisely why she couldn't stand him. She loathed him with all her heart.

What infuriated her most was that a man of his capabilities was content to remain Hogwarts' headmaster. He had the talent to stand at the pinnacle of the wizarding world, to guide its people. Yet, he chose not to act, turning a blind eye to the corruption plaguing the magical world. That was something Mirabel could never forgive.

Therefore, she would surpass him—without exception. The one at the top must be the best, and even Dumbledore would not be exempt from that rule.

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