Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

The Great Hall of Hogwarts had become a hellscape where no corner remained unscathed.

Yet, even amidst this inferno, there were those who continued to fight, clinging to hope.

Ron, Fred, George, Ginny. Arthur and Molly, the Weasleys.

Cedric, along with Krum and Fleur, who had come from other schools to lend their aid.

Neville, Luna, and the rest of Dumbledore's Army.

And many others who loved the magical world, refusing to falter, wands in hand, fighting desperately.

But it wasn't enough.

Not nearly enough.

The undead swarmed endlessly, trolls beyond count rampaged, and wizards on the opposing side vastly outnumbered them. Dark creatures like vampires filled the ranks, alongside a Muggle military wielding strange weapons and unyielding golems.

It was no wonder.

They were but a single school—Hogwarts—facing the combined might of three allied nations, which even included Muggles.

Most of Britain's wizards had also sided with the enemy.

Victory had never been within reach.

"Fred, George! Aren't you getting tired? Your spells are slowing down!"

"Don't make me laugh! Percy, you're the one getting rusty after working at the Ministry of Magic!"

The Weasley siblings supported one another, watching each other's backs as they exchanged banter.

In truth, there was no room for jokes.

But if they didn't joke, their spirits might break under the overwhelming disparity in numbers.

Perhaps their only solace was that they weren't alone in facing Mirabel.

As the battle raged on, reinforcements had arrived—though not all on the same side.

Several dozen Acromantulas, a dwindling group of about a hundred Dementors, and the last of Voldemort's Death Eaters—those who had been near him and escaped Mirabel's clutches—had entered the fray.

This army, already reduced to less than a tenth of its original size, was attacking the Allied Forces alongside Hogwarts, resulting in mutual destruction.

Yet even combining Hogwarts' forces with the remnants of the dark faction, their numbers didn't amount to even a tenth of Mirabel's army.

The enemy wasn't just a single faction or school.

It was the full might of three nations united.

Neville Longbottom swung his wand, a growing sense of urgency gnawing at him.

This wasn't the place to fight.

No, as long as they remained here, they couldn't win.

The one they needed to defeat was the golden tyrant.

Until Mirabel was brought down, this war would never end.

Some of them needed to leave this battlefield and go to Durmstrang to face her.

But… who?

Who could possibly break free of this chaotic battlefield?

If they were already at a disadvantage here, how could they afford to send forces elsewhere?

And what if, in their absence, someone dear to them died?

The thought rooted Neville to the spot, unable to leave.

McGonagall, Flitwick, and Madam Hooch fought with unmatched skill and unshakable pride, fending off enemies with spells of unprecedented precision.

But it wasn't enough.

The enemies didn't diminish or stop.

The army, unified under the malevolent gold of their leader, trampled over the corpses of their fallen allies, marching ever forward.

To them, death was not to be feared. Killing held no terror.

"For the greater good"—for this cause, they would transcend life and death alike.

When this war ended, the world would change.

That golden girl would bring the change.

She would remake the magical world that had stagnated for centuries.

The entrenched inequalities of pureblood supremacy, the seeds of conflict that never ceased—she would erase them all, paving the way to a bright future.

Once the immortal girl held dominion, wars would no longer occur.

Everything would be unified, and instability would be eliminated beforehand.

No more hiding from Muggles, no more fear of the dark forces.

For that world, they were willing to discard their lives without hesitation.

And so they pressed on, relentless, sacrificing all mercy to make this the magical world's final war.

The situation grew even more dire.

From the shattered walls emerged creatures of pure terror.

Massive serpents with venom potent enough to destroy Horcruxes and gazes that caused instant death—these were the kings of snakes.

The monster that had once terrorized Hogwarts alone, the Basilisk.

Now, they appeared as a swarm.

Those unfortunate enough to meet their gaze fell lifeless one after another.

Their fangs pierced bodies, their coils crushed victims, and chaos consumed the hall.

Avoiding their gaze offered no safety, as wizards fell to Killing Curses, Muggles were gunned down, and trolls smashed through indiscriminately.

And then, by cruel chance, Percy was the first to see the Basilisk.

"…Ah…"

Percy collapsed to the ground.

Seeing this, Fred and George let out heart-wrenching screams.

The Death Eaters, too, were devoured one by one by the Basilisks, transforming the Great Hall into an even bloodier nightmare filled with screams.

When the dark faction was finally annihilated, the Allied Forces paused.

No, the man commanding them had ordered the halt.

"Ladies and gentlemen of Hogwarts, the brave souls gathered here.

You have fought well. To face such overwhelming numbers and skill, you've done admirably."

The voice, which rang out in what seemed like praise, was one that many at Hogwarts—students and staff alike—recognized. It was the voice of a former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher who had died six years prior.

The owner of that voice stepped forward from amidst the enemy ranks, revealing himself to the Hogwarts defenders.

"But do you understand? The number you've managed to take down is but a fraction of our total forces. Forces that, with the power of Lady Mirabel, can be resurrected at any time. And more so, to defeat even a fraction of our numbers, many of you have already fallen. Are you truly aware of this?"

War is, at its core, a matter of numbers. While there are times when quality can overturn quantity, if the opposing side possesses both superior numbers and quality, the battle is hopeless.

Seeing the man who spoke, Professor McGonagall and the others shouted in disbelief.

"Impossible...! Why is this man here? Why is he leading the enemy forces?"

"Quirinus Quirrell…!"

The man who had once taught at this very school was now poised to destroy it. The sight of him filled McGonagall and the others with both fury and astonishment, though they momentarily forgot their shock that he was alive.

Quirrell, however, wore a calm expression as he spoke in a tone that seemed almost instructional.

"By now, you must have realized. There is no way for you to win. Continuing this battle will only result in needless sacrifice.

And so, I ask you: lay down your arms and join us."

His gentle tone carried a proposal of surrender.

The outcome is clear, his words implied. If you wish to avoid further loss, pledge your allegiance to us.

With a veneer of benevolence but an undertone of arrogance, he made his offer.

"My master favors the strong. My master believes that the deaths of such capable individuals as yourselves would be a loss to the wizarding world.

Thus, you are worthy of living in the new world that my master shall create. Step forward, those who wish to be part of it."

McGonagall was about to shout, Who would dare to join them?

But before she could, someone stepped forward.

It was Marcus Flint of Slytherin.

And following him, a few others began to move forward, including students from Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and even Gryffindor.

They were students who had been drawn to Mirabel during her time at the school, who had become captivated by her charisma.

And now, their devotion took the most disastrous turn.

The defectors knelt before Quirrell, pledging their loyalty.

Perhaps, McGonagall thought, this had been orchestrated from the start.

Marcus Flint had long shown interest in Mirabel, even during his time at Hogwarts. His presence among the defenders had been a trap all along.

It had likely all been for this moment, for this dramatic display.

"We swear allegiance to the new world."

"Well done, Marcus Flint. You are most welcome."

This act triggered the dangerous force of collective psychology.

The battle had already seemed unwinnable. To continue fighting meant certain death.

Now, seeing others defect, the fragile balance of courage among the defenders shattered.

One by one, as if drawn by gravity, students stepped forward to join the enemy.

Houses, loyalties, and friendships were forgotten as they crossed to the other side.

"W-wait! All of you! Have you forgotten the pride of Hogwarts?

Return! I command you to return!"

McGonagall's desperate calls fell on deaf ears.

Her despair deepened as she saw one particular student among the defectors—Neville Longbottom.

Neville had always been a struggle to teach, one of the most challenging students she'd ever dealt with.

But in truth, she had come to care for him deeply, as challenging students often endear themselves to their mentors.

The sight of him turning his back felt like a dagger to her heart.

…But wait. Something was wrong.

Neville had rushed forward, blending in with the defectors, but then, he drew his wand.

He aimed directly at Quirrell and cast a spell!

Quirrell deflected it effortlessly with a Shield Charm and then disarmed Neville with a flick of his wand, sending him sprawling.

"Well now, such spirit. To think, when I taught you, you were nothing but a hopeless case.

People do change, it seems. Be glad, boy—you, too, are worthy of serving Lady Mirabel."

Quirrell's words earned only a sharp spit in response.

Neville spat blood-tinged saliva onto the ground, wiped his mouth, and stood firmly once more.

"I'll join you when the fires of hell freeze over!"

Without fear, he stared Quirrell down, unarmed yet unyielding.

"We are Dumbledore's Army!"

It was a courageous roar.

One that reignited the courage in those who had been on the verge of breaking.

The silence of the Great Hall broke into a crescendo of renewed resolve.

The defenders rallied, their fighting spirit rekindled.

McGonagall wept as she witnessed it.

And she thought to herself that she had never been prouder of this particular student.

If a student like Neville could stand so tall and defiant, how could she kneel in despair?

She could not allow such a brilliant young man to fall here.

McGonagall gripped her wand tightly and rushed forward.

This was far from over.

Hope still remained—!

Sidney Belesford, despite being Mirabelle's real brother, swears his loyalty to her.

Mirabelle believes this is the result of her training, but that is a mistake. Even if she had not trained Sidney, he would have devoted himself to her with the same unwavering loyalty. His reason for following her was never out of loyalty; it was something else entirely.

In Sidney's world, there is only one color.

The only color that matters is the supreme golden hue. Anything else is unnecessary, invisible, and unworthy of attention—mere refuse. Sidney's world is divided into gold and colorlessness, and nothing else exists.

While Mirabelle is born with an intense self-love, Sidney possesses only one kind of love—love for another. From the moment of his birth, he longed for that golden hue, and there were no other emotions in his heart.

Sidney Belesford loves Mirabelle. The fact that she is his sister doesn't matter. He sees only her and loves only her. To Sidney, everyone else has no value, and he does not even recognize his own existence. Therefore, he has no heart, no self, and his thoughts are consumed entirely by Mirabelle.

Sidney has nothing. Mirabelle is everything in his world. Why he longs for her so intensely is a mystery even to him, and he has never given it thought. Perhaps Mirabelle took from him the emotions and heart he was supposed to have. But in the end, it doesn't matter.

This abnormal love is beyond Mirabelle's comprehension, as she does not attempt to understand love. Sidney is fine with that. He does not want to taint her golden self with his impurity. If she remains as she is, that is enough for him.

If anyone dares to stain that gold, they will receive a hell worse than death. Even if it is his own father, Sidney will tear his soul apart and make him regret it.

Mirabelle does not know this—she does not know that her father's spirit stayed in the world of the living after his death. Heathcourt was not a soul that would peacefully cross over. He had lingered as a ghost, unwilling to let go, to watch over his daughter's fate. But he was captured by Sidney, and his soul was torn apart and erased with a pain that would never be felt in a physical body.

If anyone stands in the way of Mirabelle, Sidney will simply eliminate them. There are no exceptions, regardless of who they are. This is the sole purpose of Sidney Belesford's existence.

In the necessary room on the eighth floor of Hogwarts, a battle between four young people was unfolding. In terms of numbers, it was three against one. Additionally, the three were among the strongest students in Hogwarts: Harry Potter, the second-best in Defense Against the Dark Arts after Mirabelle and a hero of the wizarding world for having repelled Voldemort twice; Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born who had achieved top grades and ranked third in Defense Against the Dark Arts; and Edith Reinagel, who had been trained by Mirabelle's shadow and surpassed the other two in magical combat.

But despite these advantages, it was not three who had the upper hand—it was one.

Sidney Belesford, Mirabelle's brother, was single-handedly overwhelming the three.

"Invaderent Patronum!"

Edith summoned a Pegasus Patronus and sent it charging toward Sidney. But just as it was about to strike, Sidney's body "distorted."

"What?"

Right in front of Edith's eyes, the small boy's arm transformed into the face of a gigantic dog, baring its fangs. Startled, Edith quickly dodged and distanced herself from Sidney.

The spell Sidney cast was not particularly remarkable. Harry, Hermione, and Edith could all perform such a transformation spell—just a basic transfiguration. But what was extraordinary was the speed with which Sidney executed it.

Transfiguration is one of the most unreasonable and physically defying forms of magic. The size differences don't matter, and it can even turn inanimate objects into living creatures. The incident where fake Mad-Eye Moody transformed Malfoy into a weasel remains vivid in everyone's memory, demonstrating how transfiguration ignores the laws of physics. Now, Sidney had transformed his arm into a living creature.

"...Sweep."

Sidney waved his wand, and a small creature appeared.

Only Edith recognized it. It was a "rat!" Hundreds of them, to be exact—black rats called Pyotol, which Mirabelle had kept as pets. Each one of them was a soldier loyal to Mirabelle.

Furthermore, with the transfiguration spell that can change a human into a ferret, it would be possible to turn these rats into soldiers as well—or even something worse!

Edith and Hermione quickly raised their wands and cast spells.

"Protego!"

The rats, which had multiplied exponentially, fired at them from all sides. Using the shield charm just in time, they deflected the onslaught. Taking advantage of the opening, Harry rushed to attack.

"Sectumsempra!"

The Dark Magic slashing spell targeted Sidney. It severed his arm, and blood poured out from the missing elbow. But Sidney didn't flinch.

Without changing his expression, Sidney transformed nearby rubble into an iron rod, which he jammed into the stump of his severed arm. Without a hint of discomfort, he pushed the rod into the wound and then cast a transfiguration spell.

The transfiguration magic turned the rod into a new arm, and with the pain ignored, Sidney calmly cast the next spell.

At that moment, cannons appeared at both of his sides, and with a thunderous roar, they fired at Harry and the others.

"Th-that's ridiculous!"

Hermione shouted as she ran, with the other two following close behind. Immediately after, an explosion.

They were not knocked unconscious, thanks to the protective magic they cast at the last moment, but they could not avoid the damage. The three were tossed to the floor by the blast, groaning in pain.

"Voltagium Irelad!"

Edith cast a lightning spell that had once been taught to her by a friend.

It was lightning fast—there was no chance to evade or block it!

The bolt struck Sidney in the chest, knocking him back.

However, the boy returned to his stance as if nothing had happened and looked at Edith with cold, mechanical eyes.

The spell was impossible to dodge or defend against, but its creator was his sister. Naturally, Sidney knew exactly how to counter it.

Sidney had used Transfiguration magic to change all his clothing into an insulating material.

Therefore, no matter how much electricity was sent through him, it had no effect.

"Confringo."

The boy coldly uttered the spell name.

At once, the ground beneath Edith exploded, and the shockwave hit her, sending her flying into the wall.

"Ugh!"

It felt as though her bones had broken from the force.

But she couldn't afford to fall here. She quickly leaped backward, narrowly avoiding a green flash of light.

"Ha... ha... ha..."

Breathing heavily, Edith thought to herself.

He's strong.

She knew he couldn't be weak, but she hadn't expected such a significant gap in their abilities. Of course, the sheer numbers of the rats were a factor, but that wasn't all.

Sidney's magical skill was simply far superior, putting him well above them.

As expected of the prestigious Belesford family—his elite training was impeccable.

"…Target, combat status: viable…"

Sidney murmured in a high, almost girlish voice.

It was a cold, mechanical tone—a stark contrast to Mirabelle, who exuded the power of will more than anyone else.

"Ugh..."

Edith managed to stand and started thinking about what to do next.

There was no way to win with straightforward tactics.

But if that's the case, they'd have to find another way to win.

"Expulso!"

She cast the blasting spell to shatter the floor, creating a cloud of smoke.

Using the smoke to obscure their vision, she rushed toward Harry and the others.

"Harry, Hermione, somehow open the Room of Requirement.

At this point, we can only outsmart him and retrieve the 'Arch.'"

"...Indeed, that's the only option."

"No, let's go even further. Let's use that. We'll push Sidney into the Arch."

Edith's suggestion was met with Hermione's nod, and Harry added his own correction.

To deal with that boy, they would have to use the concept of "death" itself.

Edith hesitated, but hesitation in battle was a foolish act.

The three exchanged a look, and Harry was assigned the task of opening the room.

In the meantime, Edith and Hermione would have to buy time.

"We're going, Edith!"

"Tch, I have no choice, do I?"

The two girls dashed forward, and at the same time, Harry stood in front of the Room of Requirement.

The door had not appeared yet.

To open the door to the Room of Requirement, one must walk in front of the wall three times while strongly focusing on the desired purpose.

You can't run. You must not let your thoughts become scattered.

It was a simple condition for the room to appear, but in the heat of battle, it felt incredibly difficult.

Edith and Hermione fired spells rapidly, trying to keep Sidney at bay.

But Sidney's counterattacks soon forced them into a defensive position.

Meanwhile, Harry walked in front of the wall and completed one roundtrip.

"…!"

In the midst of battle, this movement seemed utterly useless and unnatural.

Sidney's gaze shifted to Harry, his eyes narrowing with a hint of caution.

Then he aimed his wand, preparing to cast the Killing Curse, but Edith tackled him, throwing off his aim.

However, engaging in physical combat with Sidney, who could effortlessly change his own body, was a reckless decision.

Sidney's arm transformed into a thick, grotesque troll-like appendage, and he grabbed Edith's slender neck, lifting her off the ground.

Two round trips.

Faster, faster, faster!

Harry's mind raced as he walked in front of the door.

He never imagined that walking would feel this excruciating.

As he moved, Edith's resistance began to weaken, and her arms and legs started twitching.

Hermione desperately tried to help Edith, but the rats surrounding them kept her at bay.

In fact, the sheer number of rats pushed them into a dire situation.

(This is bad! If this goes on, they'll be killed!)

At this point, the Room of Requirement was no longer his focus.

He couldn't just stand by and watch his friends die. Harry immediately shifted his thoughts.

First, he had to save them! The Room of Requirement could wait!

He drew his wand and tried to focus on casting a spell against Sidney.

But just as Harry was about to attack—

"Avada Kedavra."

Sidney's cold voice rang out, and a green flash struck Edith's body.

"…What?"

Edith, released from Sidney's grip, fell to the floor, her eyes wide in shock.

Everything around her seemed to slow down, as if in a dream.

Harry reached out toward her, shouting something.

Hermione cried in anguish, tears streaming down her face.

A thud echoed, and Edith finally realized her body had hit the floor.

Her body wouldn't move.

Her eyelids felt heavy.

Her vision slowly faded to black, a strange sense of release overtaking her body.

(…Ah, I see…)

Watching Harry and Hermione in tears, Edith understood.

What had happened to her.

And what was about to happen.

(I... I'm going to die...)

Slowly, she closed her eyes, and everything grew silent.

All her senses faded... and Edith became still.

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