Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

October 31st—Halloween.

The Great Hall was lavishly decorated, with countless jack-o'-lanterns casting a warm glow over the room. The tables were laden with an array of dishes featuring pumpkin as the main ingredient.

For Mirabel, this splendid feast was something she wanted to savor slowly. However, today wasn't a day for leisure.

The reason was simple: the party would be interrupted by the sudden appearance of a troll.

In other words, there was a time limit. If she didn't eat quickly, she'd have to wait another year for this feast.

(Pumpkin gratin is quite enjoyable… It has a slight quirkiness, but it's not bad. Still, pumpkin shines brightest in desserts. These pancakes are a hit—the sweetness of the pumpkin pairs beautifully with the soft texture of the batter.)

Mirabel quietly sampled various pumpkin dishes on her plate, evaluating each one without a word.

Pumpkin pie, pancakes, pudding, tarts… Many of the desserts leaned toward the sweeter side, but she was perfectly satisfied. A dinner dominated by sweet dishes wasn't bad once in a while.

After thoroughly enjoying herself, she washed it all down with tea and wiped her mouth with a disposable napkin.

"Huh? You're not eating as much as usual today," Edith said.

"Well, yes. Even I have days like this."

"Or maybe it's just that you usually eat too much… Seriously, though, why don't you ever gain weight?"

Edith sighed as she compared Mirabel's slender figure to her own slightly rounder stomach.

Ever since arriving at the school, the delicious food had caused Edith to overeat, and she felt like she'd gained a bit of weight compared to when she first enrolled.

Yet, despite eating even more than she did, Mirabel's body remained unchanged.

"That's because I burn it all off," Mirabel replied.

"Burn it off?"

"Yes. Magic, as simple as it looks, requires a tremendous amount of energy. Since I practice magic every day without fail, the energy I consume is quickly depleted.

If anything, I struggle with energy shortages, so overeating is never an issue for me."

Magic involves constructing theories in the mind and channeling them with mental power.

Even subconsciously, casting magic places a significant strain on the brain, far beyond its usual activity.

And the primary energy source for brain function is sugar.

This is why Mirabel intentionally consumed sweet foods, ensuring she was always in top condition to perform magic.

It wasn't simply because she had a sweet tooth—there was a practical reason behind it.

"Well, I suppose my body type plays a part too," she added casually.

"That's unfair…"

Edith muttered while rubbing her slightly plump stomach.

She'd recently started cutting back on her meals as a diet, but it wasn't yielding much effect.

When she thought about how Mirabel could eat as much as she wanted without gaining weight, it was hard not to feel envious.

As Edith was mulling over her insecurities, the Great Hall was suddenly disrupted by the arrival of Quirrell.

His turban was askew, and his usually pale face was now ashen with fear.

He stumbled to the head table, stopping before Dumbledore, and spoke in a trembling voice:

"T-troll… in the d-dungeon…! Thought you ought to know…"

With that, Quirrell collapsed, leaving behind chaos.

The students erupted into panic.

Some screamed in fear, others yelled in confusion, some clung to their friends, while a few boldly declared their intent to fight.

The collective hysteria spread even to the upperclassmen, creating utter mayhem.

In the Slytherin section, the chaos was no different. Draco was on the verge of tears, flailing in panic, while Edith looked anxiously at Mirabel.

Mirabel remained perfectly calm. With her usual composed demeanor, she drew her wand and sent sparks flying, forcibly silencing the Slytherin students.

Then, she slammed her hand on the table, drawing all eyes to her. Her voice, steady and confident, commanded attention:

"Silence yourselves. You're disgraceful."

It was just a single rebuke from a first-year. A mere novice who had only recently enrolled.

Yet, strangely enough, not a single person dared to refute her words. Not the first-years, nor even the seventh-years. All of them were silenced by her commanding tone.

Draco Malfoy, however, managed to muster some courage and stepped forward to confront her.

"But, but! There's a troll loose—"

"And so what? What can a sack of meat relying on brute strength possibly do?"

Mirabel dismissed Malfoy's fear with a shrug, casually playing with the stem of her wineglass.

"There is no need to worry. After all… I am here."

Her voice was quiet, but it carried an unshakable confidence.

It had a peculiar strength that made one want to believe her, even without reason.

"Now, calm yourselves… You're ruining the taste of dinner."

As if everything were perfectly normal, Mirabel downed her glass of wine.

This wasn't bluster.

It wasn't an act.

She truly believed that a troll was nothing to fear.

Her sheer composure and boldness had an oddly mesmerizing effect on the entire Slytherin house.

Yes, everything would be fine.

With this girl here, there was nothing to fear.

Such was the conviction she instilled in them.

"Tell me, all of you.

Are you pigs without tusks? Beasts without claws?

No, you're not… You have wands—your tusks. And magic—your claws."

When faced with great fear, people seek something to cling to.

Someone to trust and depend on.

Very well, Mirabel thought. She would fill that void.

Into that emptiness born of fear, she planted the presence of her own being.

Fear and reassurance—these are the forces that control people.

"What is there to fear about a troll? What part of it is worth your terror?

…Nothing.

It's just a big target. You're not so weak as to let something like that strut around unchecked."

Mirabel's ability to overwhelm and captivate others truly shone in moments like this.

She could forcefully crush dissent, override logic, and impose her ideals upon others, compelling them to follow her.

This was the essence of her commanding presence and captivating influence.

Her voice, quiet yet crystal clear, surged through the Slytherin table with undeniable force, lodging itself in the ears and minds of everyone present.

"Show it. Show it exactly who it dared to pick a fight with.

Lesser creatures must be taught their place… and you all are more than capable of doing so."

By the time her words ended, the Slytherin students were on their feet.

Yes, what of the troll?

What did it matter if it was a creature of brute strength?

They had disarming spells. Stunning spells. They had the weapon of magic.

There was no reason to cower.

No—this was their school.

And in times like these, it was their duty to rise and defend it.

"Prefects! Escort the underclassmen who can't fight back to the dormitories!

Upperclassmen who can fight, come with me! We'll defend our school!"

"Do we know where the troll is?"

"In the dungeons, apparently… While it's unlikely anyone's down there, there's still a chance.

We'll exterminate it immediately."

The upperclassmen of Slytherin, leading the charge, each gripped their wands.

There was no fear anymore.

In its place were a profound sense of reassurance and an overwhelming pride.

They believed, without doubt, that they were making the right choice. They were following the right words.

That illusion erased all hesitation and fear from their hearts.

The unexpected surge of morale left the professors scrambling to intervene, but the Slytherins were unstoppable.

Even Dumbledore's magical fireworks couldn't extinguish their fervor.

Their leader wasn't a professor. Nor was it a prefect.

At this moment, it was that small, golden-haired girl.

With a fierce gleam in their eyes, waiting for her command, the Slytherins stood united. And Mirabel, seizing the moment, issued her order.

"Very well. Show me the power of wizards."

Like soldiers obeying a general, the Slytherins nodded in unison. The upperclassmen charged out of the Great Hall.

There was no need to fear. They had magic on their side.

Their destination: the dungeons. Their target: a single, foolish troll that had dared to infiltrate the castle.

Together, they marched with one purpose—to overwhelm, destroy, and crush it.

"..."

Professor McGonagall swallowed hard at the sight.

What incredible leadership. What overwhelming presence.

In just a few sentences, this girl had calmed the entire Slytherin house!

Though it filled her with a sense of dread, she also saw it as an opportunity.

If the students had regained their composure, that was a relief. Now she could focus on returning everyone safely to their dormitories.

"Prefects! Immediately escort your housemates back to their dorms!"

Responding to her command, the prefects sprang into action.

Under their guidance, the students began to file out of the Great Hall, heading back to their respective dormitories.

But none of them noticed…

That Mirabel was no longer among them.

"…Simple enough."

Watching as all the Hogwarts students made their way to their dormitories, Mirabel murmured quietly.

Though she had been the one to rally them, she had no intention of heading to the dorms herself.

Her true purpose was something she had been planning for some time.

The commotion she stirred had one aim: to divert the professors' attention.

In short, it was all a distraction.

"Now then… time to head to the Forbidden Section."

Her target was the Restricted Section of the library. She planned to steal a few of the books she had her eye on and return as if nothing had happened.

With the hall still in chaos, Mirabel slipped away and boldly made her way into the library.

Unhesitatingly, she stepped into the Restricted Section.

"Now… where is it?"

Carefully, Mirabel browsed through the books in the Restricted Section, searching for her target.

She couldn't afford to grab the wrong one; some books, if touched, would scream in alarm.

Picking the wrong book would mean the end—she'd be forced to retreat immediately.

Fortunately, she found her target quickly. A faint smile crossed her lips as she picked up the book.

Flipping through its pages, she confirmed without a doubt that it was the real thing.

"…No mistake… this is it."

Having obtained what she came for, Mirabel had no further reason to linger.

She left the library, casting a concealment charm to erase any trace of her visit, and headed toward the dungeons.

If her predictions were correct, the Slytherin students would soon be storming the girls' restroom.

Inside the restroom, a fierce battle was raging between the upper-year Slytherins and the troll.

They cast spells with courage, protected one another, and fought valiantly to defend their school.

One would attack with a spell, another would cast a shield, and yet another would dash deeper into the restroom.

"You there, Gryffindor student! Run while you can!"

"We'll distract it—go now!"

They reached out to pull Hermione Granger, trembling in the corner, to safety.

But the troll spotted her escape and raised its club.

At the last second, Harry Potter launched himself at the troll, clinging to its head.

"Harry?!"

"Run, Hermione!"

Why was Harry here?

The answer was simple: to save Hermione.

Knowing she had been hurt by Ronald Weasley's thoughtless words and had skipped the party, Harry's bravery wouldn't allow him to abandon her.

Using the time Harry bought them, Hermione fled the restroom.

However, the troll shook Harry off, sent Ron flying as he tried to intervene, and emerged from the restroom.

Worse yet, outside the restroom were other female students, including Hermione.

"This is bad—it's outside! You there, get out of here!"

From within the restroom, Harry shouted in panic.

The Slytherin students tried to cast spells to stop it, but it was too late.

The troll raised its club, aiming at a girl who stood frozen, unmoving.

The club swung down.

A disaster seemed inevitable. Hermione covered her face with her hands.

But the girl, the troll's target, calmly raised her hand…

And stopped the club with a single hand.

"G-Gob…?"

"What…?"

It was a bizarre sight.

The troll, over four meters tall, had its club halted by a 135-centimeter-tall girl with one hand.

The troll, bewildered, gripped the club with both hands and applied more force, but it didn't budge.

To an onlooker, it was incomprehensible.

The one creating this extraordinary scene was none other than the golden-haired girl—Mirabel Beresford.

From an outside perspective, it was impossible to understand.

However, what Mirabel had done was silent wandless magic.

She used a spell called Spongeify, which softened and weakened objects to the point that even a solid floor could feel like a cushion.

Mirabel had applied it with her bare hands, weakening the troll's strength to its very limit.

Now, the troll was nothing more than a powerless beast, and its club might as well have been made of sponge.

"Hmph…"

Narrowing her eyes in disinterest, Mirabel leaped gracefully, grabbing the troll's head.

She slammed it into the floor.

This time, she used Descendo, a spell that forces objects downward.

The impact was so great that the floor cracked, embedding the troll's head.

As it struggled to raise its head, barely clinging to consciousness, Mirabel delivered a sharp kick to its jaw.

Rictusempra—a spell that sends the target flying.

Yet, Mirabel employed all of her magic without speaking a single word or even using a wand.

To Harry and the others, it must have appeared as though this young girl was effortlessly thrashing the troll, an incomprehensible sight.

The troll, sent flying in a wide arc, rolled across the floor multiple times before collapsing in a heap.

Mirabel stomped firmly on the troll's head, creating a visibly unmistakable display of "superiority."

"Well, what's wrong? Isn't strength your pride and joy?

Stop licking the ground and get up already."

The troll, however, couldn't get up.

It flailed its arms and legs, struggling desperately to rise, but its weakened body couldn't overcome the pressure of the girl's foot.

Against this tiny girl, less than half its height, it was completely powerless, as though a child's hand was toying with it.

It was a clear depiction of strength versus weakness—the strong trampling the weak, leaving no room for resistance.

Having demonstrated the gap in their power, Mirabel grabbed the troll's head and yanked it up, bringing it level with her gaze.

"G-Gob…"

"Oh? Even a primitive creature like you seems capable of understanding fear."

The troll trembled pitifully, almost evoking pity.

Its sole and greatest weapon—its brute strength—had been utterly defeated.

This realization meant it stood no chance against its opponent.

For a simple-minded being, the difference in strength was all too apparent.

Understanding it was nothing more than prey, the once-mighty predator was reduced to a pitiful offering.

The troll had no will left to fight.

Mirabel decided it was time to conclude matters and released her grip on the troll.

"You understand what you need to do now, don't you?"

"G-G-Gob…"

Regaining its freedom, the troll no longer dared to attack Mirabel.

Instead, despite being allowed to stand, it dropped to its knees again and, to everyone's astonishment, began licking Mirabel's shoes.

Like a servant meticulously polishing a master's shoes, it used its tongue to clean them.

No one could see this as anything but a defeated creature groveling in fear.

It was a clear and undeniable display of victor and vanquished.

The Slytherin students, exhilarated by their side's total victory, were ecstatic.

This was victory. This was domination.

For the Slytherins, whose ideology leaned toward elitism, Mirabel's display of control resonated more profoundly than if she had simply killed the troll. It captivated their hearts completely.

As they buzzed with excitement, their eyes alight, Mirabel addressed them.

"Now then, the rest is the teachers' problem. Let's disperse before we lose house points."

No one objected.

Without a word of dissent, the Slytherin students obeyed the young girl's command and returned to their dormitory.

Just as Mirabel was about to follow them, Harry called out to her.

"M-Mirabel… Beresford, right?"

"Yes. We've seen each other a few times in class, but this is the first time we've talked since that incident before we enrolled.

You look well, Harry Potter."

Mirabel responded naturally, though Harry was visibly nervous.

To Harry, Mirabel was even more dangerous and unapproachable than Malfoy.

Even now, despite having been saved by her, this perception hadn't changed.

In fact, witnessing her overwhelming ferocity only reinforced his feelings.

"T-Thank you for saving us…"

"No need for thanks. I didn't do it for your sake."

Mirabel replied curtly, her back still turned to him.

"Well then, it would be troublesome to be found by the teachers. I'll be on my way.

You can take credit for the troll if you like."

With that, Mirabel started walking, not waiting for Harry's response.

Naturally, Harry panicked and tried to follow her, but when he turned the corner, she was gone.

Despite there being nowhere to hide, Mirabel had vanished as if she were made of mist.

What a terrifying girl, he thought.

That day, Harry Potter felt both an overwhelming sense of Mirabel Beresford's strength and a touch of fear.

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