Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

As per the yearly tradition, the Sorting Ceremony concluded, and the welcoming feast for the new students began.

For Mirabel, the most valuable aspect of this school was undoubtedly the vast array of books in the library. However, she valued the meals provided here just as much.

The house-elves always outdid themselves. The dishes were prepared with a skill that rivaled even the finest chefs, and the flavors changed with each feast, ensuring no student ever grew tired of the offerings. After Mirabel had once made a special request, even some international cuisines discreetly found their way to the Slytherin table.

Every detail of their work was perfect. Mirabel often mused about wanting to take one of the elves home with her.

"Hmm... as always, the house-elves here do excellent work. There isn't a single sign of carelessness."

"Absolutely," another student agreed. "Imagine how much this would cost if we tried to eat it at a restaurant."

Mirabel cut into her medium-rare steak and savored a bite. She could enjoy steak cooked at any level, but if asked her favorite, she'd always answer medium-rare.

For her, slightly undercooked meat was the most delicious. To truly enjoy the natural flavor of the meat, it couldn't be overcooked. Rare, on the other hand, felt too close to raw, while well-done ruined the meat's intrinsic flavor.

Thus, Mirabel believed that medium-rare, cooked just slightly beyond rare, was the ultimate choice. Of course, she had no intention of dismissing other preferences. Each level of doneness, from blood-dripping blue rare to thoroughly cooked very well-done, had its own charm.

In the end, the choice simply came down to individual taste and the mood of the moment.

"You're lucky, all of you. Tonight's feast almost didn't happen," a voice interjected as Mirabel enjoyed her meal.

She turned to see the Bloody Baron, whose appearance was far from appetizing during a meal. Though she wished he'd keep his distance, his ominous comment caught her attention, and she narrowed her eyes.

"What do you mean by that, Baron?"

"It was Peeves. He caused a ruckus in the kitchens, demanding to join the feast. Naturally, such behavior couldn't be allowed—he has no manners and can't see a plate without wanting to overturn it. But that wasn't enough for him. Out of spite, he went on a rampage to ruin the feast altogether."

As Mirabel listened, Edith, seated nearby, thought to herself, Well, this might be the end for Peeves.

The reason was obvious: her friend, Mirabel, was notorious for her dislike of anyone interfering with her meals. Peeves had nearly ruined the entire feast—a direct affront to her. It was certain that Mirabel's wrath had been incurred.

"He overturned everything—pots, cauldrons—turning the kitchen into a sea of soup. The house-elves were so terrified they huddled in a corner, shaking. And if that wasn't enough, he threw water balloons at the new students," the Baron added.

"I see," Mirabel muttered coldly. She clenched her glass so tightly it shattered in her hand.

The water balloons thrown at the first-years didn't matter. What did matter was Peeves' blatant desecration of food. Even if the gods forgave him, Mirabel would not.

"Thank you for telling me, Baron."

"Uh, yes... you're welcome, I suppose," the Baron replied, clearly uneasy.

Sensing the dangerous aura emanating from Mirabel, he paled further and quickly made his exit. Edith, watching the scene unfold, realized that nothing could now quell Mirabel's fury. The only question was whether Peeves would face an "excessive punishment" or outright annihilation. Knowing her ruthless nature, Edith wouldn't be surprised if Mirabel eliminated a poltergeist without hesitation.

After finishing their main course, an array of desserts was served. Treacle tart, steamed pudding, various cakes, and fried Mars bars—each tempting and seemingly impossible to resist, even after a large meal.

Mirabel and Edith each selected their favorite desserts and indulged contentedly. Once everyone had eaten their fill, the food was cleared away, and Dumbledore began his speech.

"Well, well! You've all eaten and drunk your fill, I'm sure!" Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Now, lend me your ears for a few announcements!"

What followed was the usual set of instructions: new banned items had been added to the list (though few students adhered to it), the Forbidden Forest remained off-limits, and third-years or older could visit Hogsmeade.

However, the next announcement was entirely different from what everyone had expected. Normally, this would have been the moment to remind first-years that they couldn't join Quidditch teams. Most students had anticipated this—but Dumbledore's words delivered a significant surprise.

"The Inter-House Quidditch matches will not be held this year. Delivering this news is a bitter task for me."

A collective gasp of "What?!" echoed through the hall, leaving Quidditch players stunned. Among them, Harry was particularly dismayed; he had been eager to settle the score with Mirabel this year. The prospect of losing that chance made him cry out in frustration. Edith, who was also a fan of Quidditch, sat speechless beside Mirabel.

However, Dumbledore announced that in place of Quidditch, an event of equal grandeur would take place this year. It was called the Triwizard Tournament, a friendly competition that would bring together students from three great wizarding schools: Hogwarts, Durmstrang, and Beauxbatons.

This tournament had a long history, dating back 700 years, but had been abruptly discontinued centuries ago due to its dangerous nature. The challenges in the competition were so perilous that they had claimed many lives over the years.

But now, in the present day, the tournament had been revived. Through the collaborative efforts of the Department of International Magical Cooperation, the Department of Magical Games and Sports, and the three participating schools, the Triwizard Tournament would return. Its grand revival would be hosted at Hogwarts.

In October, representatives from Beauxbatons and Durmstrang would arrive at Hogwarts, and on Halloween, the selection process for the three champions would commence. These champions would compete for the ultimate prize: the Triwizard Cup, the honor of their school, and a cash prize of 1,000 Galleons.

"1,000 Galleons!" Edith exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement as she began counting on her fingers.

For students, 1,000 Galleons was an unimaginable sum. To put it in Muggle terms, it equated to about 6,700 pounds, or approximately 870,000 yen. While that might not seem like much at first glance, the value of money in the wizarding world was vastly different from that in the Muggle world.

Magical resources were generally cheaper due to the inherent advantages of magic, which significantly reduced production costs. For example, the equivalent of a single pound in the Muggle world, enough for perhaps one bottle of juice, could buy over ten bottles in the wizarding world. This stark difference in economic value meant that 1,000 Galleons carried the equivalent purchasing power of over 10 million yen in the wizarding world.

Mirabel, who was well-versed in both worlds, was aware of certain schemes involving this economic disparity. She knew that while Muggle money held significant value in the wizarding world, the reverse was also true. Wizarding currency, particularly Galleons made of pure gold, was extraordinarily valuable in the Muggle world.

For instance, a Galleon weighing over 20 grams could be sold for nearly 10,000 yen when melted down, depending on market prices. If someone exchanged that 10,000 yen back into the wizarding world, they would receive around 120 Galleons, effectively multiplying their wealth. However, exporting wizarding currency or goods into the Muggle world was illegal, and anyone caught would face immediate arrest.

"1,000 Galleons! You could live like royalty with that kind of money," Edith mused, her eyes sparkling.

"Your eyes are lighting up. Why don't you throw your hat in the ring?" Mirabel teased with a smirk.

Edith sighed heavily, her excitement deflating as she slumped onto the table. The reality of the situation quickly dampened her dream-like enthusiasm.

"Of course not. I'd love the 1,000 Galleons, but my life is more important. What about you, Mirabel?"

"I'm not uninterested… but it seems impossible for me as well," Mirabel replied, nodding toward Dumbledore.

Just then, Dumbledore made a new announcement, explaining that only students aged 17 or older could participate. This rule meant that Mirabel, who had only just turned 14, and her peers were ineligible to compete.

"Ah, seventeen or older, huh? Well, I guess that makes sense."

"It'd be tough to outsmart Dumbledore when he's personally keeping an eye on things."

Mirabel could use dark magic to bypass the age line—designed to prevent those under sixteen—and other protective enchantments. But deceiving Dumbledore's keen eyes was another matter.

Not that Mirabel had any real interest in participating anyway.

"Well then, it's late. Rest up and face tomorrow's classes with a clear mind. Off to bed, everyone!"

The students rose from their seats and noisily made their way back to their dormitories, chattering about the Triwizard Tournament just announced. Speculation ran wild—who would be chosen, and what kind of students would come from the other schools? The excitement was understandable.

Mirabel and Edith joined the flow of students heading toward their dormitory.

Thus began another lively year at Hogwarts.

The first class of their fourth year at Hogwarts was one of their electives. Mirabel and Edith had chosen Muggle Studies, taught by Charity Burbage, a woman in her forties. She had slightly bucked teeth and broader shoulders than most women.

"Well then, let's start by reviewing last year's material. What is the fundamental difference between us wizards and Muggles? Theodore Nott, care to answer?"

"Yes. We can use magic and fly."

"Correct. We can also brew potions, practice alchemy, and work with magical plants. But are these truly differences?"

From her position at the lectern, she explained the supposed distinctions between wizards and Muggles. Her stance was clear: the gap was not as significant as wizards liked to think.

"No, they're not differences. Why? Because these aren't true differences. Every human has strengths and weaknesses, things they can and cannot do. In essence, we wizards can do just a bit more than Muggles."

Charity Burbage was well-known for her pro-Muggle stance. Mirabel wasn't particularly drawn to Muggles, but she did appreciate Burbage's rejection of pure-blood supremacy.

"Pure-blood ideology still runs deep. However, we wizards must accept Muggle-borns. Without them, we would have gone extinct long ago. For the sake of our survival, we must welcome Muggle-borns who inherit our knowledge. We need to ally ourselves with Muggles. Now, open your textbooks. Today, we'll trace when Muggles and wizards began to interact by examining wizarding family trees."

After Muggle Studies came Care of Magical Creatures.

When they arrived at Hagrid's hut, they found him standing ready, beside a wooden crate from which strange rattling noises and occasional explosions emanated.

"Blast-Ended Skrewts! Just hatched! So yeh'll be raisin' 'em yerselves as a project!"

It was a project no one wanted.

The Blast-Ended Skrewts were revolting creatures resembling deformed, shell-less lobsters. They had no heads, pale slimy bodies, and legs sprouting haphazardly. As if that wasn't bad enough, they packed the crate so tightly that it was crawling with them, their tails occasionally sparking explosively.

Even Malfoy's sarcastic remarks, for once, seemed justified.

"Go on, try feedin' 'em different things. I dunno what they eat, so I've got ant eggs, frog livers, and some non-poisonous grass snakes. Give 'em a bit o' each and see what happens."

Edith looked utterly horrified.

"Not only has he never raised them, but he doesn't even know what might go wrong!" she muttered. "Why did Dumbledore ever make him a teacher?"

"Mirabel... I want to drop this class..."

Mirabel said nothing in response to Edith's tearful plea, but her silence spoke volumes.

"Ahh! It's got spines!"

"The sucker on its belly latched onto me!"

"It's attacking us!"

"Its tail just exploded!"

"Are all the creatures in Hagrid's classes monsters?!"

As the lesson progressed, they discovered the Skrewts could attack humans, males had stingers, females had suckers, and their tail explosions could cause burns. None of this was explained beforehand by Hagrid.

Why on earth had Dumbledore hired this man as a teacher? Even Harry and his friends looked reluctant to engage, their faces betraying their displeasure. If anyone else had been the teacher, they'd likely have refused to participate altogether.

"This... we have to take care of these things for a whole year?"

"...Probably."

Poking a Skrewt with a stick instead of touching it directly, Edith looked miserable, while Mirabel answered with a weary sigh.

It was a terrible class—pointless and unpleasant. It was hard to imagine the creatures having any purpose other than causing harm.

By the time the lesson ended, all they'd done was feed the repulsive creatures before being dismissed. The thought of enduring similar lessons for a year was utterly disheartening.

Still, this would be the last year they could enjoy a relatively peaceful student life.

So, Mirabel resolved to make the most of it—even the maddeningly mundane days. She smiled faintly at the thought.

Want to read the chapters in Advance? Join my Patreon

https://patreon.com/Glimmer09