Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

It was quiet.

Everything was calm, filled with a profound silence.

Lying face down, Edith allowed herself to sink into the comforting stillness.

Is this what death feels like?

Is this gentle slumber what it means to die?

But something about this didn't seem right.

She could think, and she had a definite sense of her own existence.

"Hm?"

Edith slowly opened her eyes and sat up.

The first thing she noticed was that she was completely unclothed.

Instinctively, she covered herself with her hands, her face turning red. Thankfully, no one else seemed to be around.

Still, even though no one was present, being naked was an uncomfortable state. She wished for some clothes.

As if responding to her wish, a neatly folded uniform appeared before her.

"...The Room of Requirement?"

The appearance of something she desired resembled the Room of Requirement.

Yet Edith felt an odd certainty that this wasn't the same place.

As she put on the clothes, she looked around and realized that the entire world around her was a pure white.

Everything was cloaked in a misty whiteness, making it impossible to discern her surroundings clearly.

Where am I?

Puzzled, Edith stood up and started to walk forward cautiously.

Then, she noticed someone standing in the distance.

It was a girl in a maid uniform with a refined and delicate face.

Her flaxen hair was tied back, and when she noticed Edith looking at her, she offered a gentle smile.

It was a face Edith had never seen before—or so she thought.

Wait, was that really true?

Something about the girl seemed familiar to Edith, stirring a deep sense of nostalgia.

Have I met her before?

Yes… that's right. Before the Quidditch match with Mirabelle…

She remembered.

This was the maid who worked at Mirabelle's house.

The girl in the maid uniform approached Edith with a smile and extended her hand.

"It's been a while, hasn't it?"

Edith didn't recognize her at first, but inexplicably, she felt certain.

Perhaps it was the unique nature of this place.

Without needing any explanation, she felt like she knew who this girl was.

"Could it be… you're…"

"My name is Mary Orwell, my dear young lady."

Mary's reply was playful, accompanied by a polite curtsey as she lifted the hem of her skirt.

Her demeanor hinted at a personality that enjoyed a bit of humor.

Tears welled up in Edith's eyes, and before she knew it, she was clinging to Mary.

"...This isn't a dream, is it? It's really you, right?

I… I've wanted to see you… I've wanted to apologize for so long…!"

"You silly girl… you have nothing to apologize for."

Mary gently stroked Edith's head, calming her.

After a moment, she let go and extended her hand.

"Now, come on, let's walk together."

Edith wiped away her tears and placed her hand in Mary's.

Together, the two girls began to walk through the white space.

While Edith moved hesitantly, Mary's steps were confident, as if she knew exactly where they were.

"Hey, Mir… no, Mary.

Where are we?"

"Well, what does it look like to you?"

Prompted by Mary, Edith looked around again.

There were buildings, a pub, and even something that resembled Honeydukes.

In the distance stood the Shrieking Shack.

This is…

"Hogsmeade Village?"

"Yes, that's how you see it."

Though devoid of people, the place was unmistakably Hogsmeade as Edith remembered it.

As she recognized it, the mist began to fade, revealing the village in greater detail.

Yet some areas remained shrouded in fog, particularly those she had faint memories of.

Conversely, places like Honeydukes, where she'd gone with Mirabelle, or the Shrieking Shack, where she'd fought Wormtail, were remarkably clear.

"Tell me… is this heaven? Or hell?"

"Hehe… why would you think that?"

"Well… I… I was hit by Sydney's spell and died…"

Edith vividly recalled the events before she lost consciousness.

The killing curse had struck her directly.

She should be dead.

There was no reason for her to still be alive.

And yet… here she was, with Mary, who had also passed away.

"Well, who can say? Perhaps the same thing that happened to Harry Potter has happened to you."

"Huh? What do you mean by that?"

"Back then... during the battle at the Ministry of Magic, I gave my life to protect you.

Couldn't it be possible to think of it this way?

—That in that moment, the protective magic fueled by my sacrifice was completed."

Protective Magic.

Edith had heard about it from Harry.

Once, his mother had sacrificed herself to shield him, defeating the Dark Lord in the process.

If something similar had happened here...

If that were the case, then Edith might not actually be dead.

But wait, that doesn't quite make sense.

After all, the one who attacked Mary back then wasn't Voldemort—it was Sydney.

Whether Edith's doubt was visible on her face, or perhaps in this place nothing could be hidden, Mary smiled knowingly, as if she had read Edith's thoughts.

"I understand your doubt.

But protective magic doesn't work only on the one who directly received the sacrifice.

Think about it—Harry Potter was protected from the Death Eaters for 17 years because of that magic, wasn't he?"

Protective magic wasn't limited to shielding just the one directly involved.

As Harry's life demonstrated, the magic also extended to keep him safe from those aligned with Voldemort. It was precisely this protection that had led Dumbledore to place Harry in the harsh environment of the Dursleys' home.

But Edith still couldn't reconcile this with her situation.

Sydney wasn't a follower of Voldemort. She was on Mirabelle's side.

Why, then, would she be affected by the protective magic?

Mary, as if guiding a student toward an answer, spoke to Edith's unspoken question.

"The truth is, the person I offered my life to wasn't just Voldemort.

It's no wonder you didn't know, but... I had already given my life to Lady Mirabelle long before Voldemort killed me."

Mary explained that the protective magic had indeed activated during the battle in the Department of Mysteries.

However, something unprecedented had happened in that moment.

"Normally, protective magic can only shield one person—or those aligned with their cause.

That's only natural, since the condition for activating the magic is death. Humans only die once... so it should never be possible to protect multiple people.

But she... she bent the very laws of nature.

She gave me something impossible—a second death."

A second death, something that should never occur.

Both of Mary's deaths had been voluntary sacrifices, fulfilling the conditions for protective magic.

This magic had been granted to shield Edith, forming a bond so powerful it defied the usual rules.

Other factors likely played a role as well.

Mary's blood had been used when Mirabelle became a vampire, and in turn, Mary had been given a piece of Mirabelle's essence—something akin to a fragment of her soul.

It was a bond similar to the one shared between Voldemort and Harry Potter, a profound connection.

Perhaps this was why Mary's protective magic had reacted so strongly to Mirabelle's side, despite Sydney's alignment.

Regardless, the implication was clear—

"I'm... not dead?"

Edith was still alive.

But Mary didn't answer her directly. Instead, she spoke with a playful vagueness.

"That's for you to decide."

Mary waved her hand.

The scenery around them changed, morphing into a place Edith didn't recognize.

It looked like a school for Muggles.

Children milled about, and among them, Edith saw a familiar blonde-haired, golden-eyed girl.

Her body bore painful-looking scars, and an unapproachable sharpness surrounded her.

Yet there was no mistaking her. It was Mirabelle Beresford.

"This... what is this?"

"A memory from the past.

A recollection of Lady Mirabelle and your sister.

And something you need to know."

Mary's gaze softened, as though she was looking far into the distance.

Edith couldn't quite grasp the emotions in Mary's expression, but she could feel one thing—Mary was sad.

"Now, shall we? On a journey through memories."

The revealed past unfolded as a series of shifting images, gradually showing Mirabel's transformation into a gentler figure.

Through Mary's perspective, the scenes depicted a Mirabel vastly different from her current self. At first, she appeared much the same as now—less chaotic but already exuding the aura of a ravenous beast, driving others away. The oppressive environment she endured was more than severe—it was outright abusive. This "elite training," cloaked as discipline, fed her rage and humiliation, fostering the malice she harbored within.

Mirabel trusted no one. To her, even family were adversaries or mere tools. It was the Mirabel Edith and the others knew all too well.

But there was someone who changed Mirabel.

A silver-haired girl appeared, undeterred by the aura that made others keep their distance. Despite Mirabel's harsh treatment, this girl persisted, breaking down her walls with a steady, unyielding approach. To Edith, it was a stunning sight—a bond forming where none should have existed.

Eventually, Mirabel warmed to her, the distance between their hearts shrinking.

"I won't leave. I'll stay by your side. Always… together, Mirabel.""…Yeah… together, always… Letice."

What Edith witnessed next was a version of Mirabel she had never imagined. Laughing alongside a friend, exposing a carefree vulnerability—it was so alien it felt like a joke. The Mirabel who trusted no one lay comfortably on someone's lap, peacefully asleep. It was unthinkable.

The impact of this bond extended outward. Mirabel's demeanor softened, her face grew gentler, and her treatment of subordinates turned more compassionate. Had things continued, she might have matured into a benevolent leader like Dumbledore—someone who used their power to help others, rather than reveling in domination as she did now.

But that was just a what if. The Mirabel of reality reigned as a tyrant, threatening the magical world.

The scenery shifted.

Gone were Mirabel and Letice. In their place was the corridor of the Beresford estate. A maid—Mary—was cleaning, when a conversation spilling from a cracked door caught her ear. Normally, she would never eavesdrop on her masters, but hearing Mirabel's and Letice's names filled her with dread.

Suppressing her breath, Mary pressed her ear to the door, listening in on the conversation within.

"…Are you truly going to go through with this?"

"Yes. I've already informed Umbridge."

"But… won't this make her sad?"

"That's irrelevant. What matters now is ridding Mirabel of that pest."

It was Mirabel's parents speaking. They adored their daughter to the point of madness, their obsessive ambitions blind to the harm they caused her. Yet their influence stretched far, capable of moving parts of the magical world to suit their whims.

"Our daughter possesses the makings of a ruler. This isn't mere parental pride—her potential surpasses even Dumbledore's. But you've seen it too, haven't you? She's rotting away."

"Yes… because of Letice Valentine."

"Exactly. That mongrel with tainted blood is corrupting Mirabel. Our masterpiece is being ruined."

Mirabel, on a human level, was beginning to walk the right path. But to the Beresfords, this was wrong. Their version of righteousness demanded absolute victory. Mirabel discarding her gifts for moral growth was unacceptable.

Thus, Letice had to be removed.

To them, Letice, the angel who softened Mirabel's heart, was no more than a demon.

"Someone so lowly isn't fit to be Mirabel's friend. She should surround herself with nobler, purer companions."

"Still…"

"Don't worry. No evidence will remain. We can make it look like a Dementor attack. By now, Umbridge has surely sent them to that girl's house. Fudge might notice something off, but he'll dismiss it as an accident."

Hearing this, Mary abandoned her cleaning supplies and bolted. She ran straight to Mirabel's private chambers, bursting in without knocking. Mirabel turned, startled, but her surprise turned to a warm smile upon recognizing Mary.

"What's wrong, Mary? Barging in without knocking—how improper. But, well… I was just about to show you something."

Mirabel revealed a silver necklace.

"Look. It's Letice's birthday soon, right? I made this for her. Do you think she'll like—"

"My lady! Letice… Letice is…"

"…What happened to her?"

Mirabel's expression changed, her face paling. For the first time, Edith and the others saw her afraid. As Mary explained, Mirabel's complexion turned ashen, her pupils wide with terror. Before Mary could finish, Mirabel dashed from the room and Disapparated. Mary quickly followed.

The rain outside Letice's house was torrential. Mary ignored the downpour, rushing to the open door.

What awaited her inside was a scene that should never have come to pass.

"Mirabel… sama..."

"..."

The mistress did not answer.

She simply held the girl's body in silence, as if clinging tightly to the warmth that was slipping away. Strongly, desperately.

But the girl no longer responded. Her eyes had lost their vitality, staring blankly like those of a lifeless doll.

She was alive… but living only in body. Her soul had already departed—a fate reserved for those attacked by Dementors, their souls sucked away.

Beside her sat a man with vacant eyes, presumably Letice's father. Being a Muggle, there was nothing he could do against a Dementor. It was a cruel, unforgiving sight.

Moments later, Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and Dolores Umbridge arrived. Their timing could not have been worse.

"M-Miss Beresford! What in Merlin's name are you doing here?"

Fudge exclaimed in shock, his eyes wide.

It was clear he viewed this as no more than a tragic accident. But anyone paying attention could see this was a deliberate act. And as for Umbridge—she couldn't even suppress the vile grin twisting her face.

Her expression betrayed her delight at seeing another Muggle-born eradicated.

"We, uh, received reports that a Dementor had escaped and rushed here immediately. Truly, it's unfortunate that there are victims… but at least it's limited to this extent."

"Oh, indeed! It's a relief that no precious pure-blood wizards were harmed. Thank goodness for that!"

At those words, Mirabel's shoulders trembled slightly.

Umbridge had no idea how deeply she was treading into dangerous territory. Her remarks were like throwing sparks onto dry timber, igniting the air with tension so heavy it felt like bloodshed could erupt at any moment.

"Oh my, Miss Beresford, are you grieving? No, no, surely not. After all, you belong to one of the most esteemed pure-blood families in the wizarding world—a descendant of nobility. Surely, you wouldn't let yourself be moved by someone so lowly."

"..."

"Besides, there are countless others to take their place. Surely someone more suited to your status—a pure-blood lineage—would be preferable. If anything, this is a good thing. It ensures no Muggle blood taints our world. Faulty blood must be purged from the magical society."

Umbridge's words dripped with a sickening sweetness, as though she thought she was comforting Mirabel.

Mary and Edith, watching from the sidelines, were holding their breath in fear.

At any moment, they thought, Mirabel might snap.

But instead, she gently rose, still holding Letice's body, and turned to face them. Her expression was calm, composed—the same as ever.

"I see your point. You're right. Trash is trash, no matter what you do with it. If we truly care about the future of the magical world, it must be eliminated at all costs."

"Exactly! Oh, how wonderful that you understand! I'm so pleased!"

"Yes... I understand perfectly now."

Neither Umbridge nor Fudge noticed.

They didn't realize that Mirabel's words were aimed directly at them.

That the "trash" she spoke of purging was none other than themselves.

"M-Miss Beresford, where are you taking that girl?"

"Stand aside."

"Eh? But—"

"—Stand. Aside."

In an instant, an overwhelming pressure consumed the room.

Everyone—Mary, Fudge, Umbridge, and even Edith and the onlookers—froze, unable to move.

The sheer force of Mirabel's presence crushed them, making it hard to even breathe.

For Fudge and Umbridge, who were the direct targets, the suffocating intensity left them nearly foaming at the mouth.

Without sparing a glance at the trash groveling on the floor, Mirabel walked out into the rain, still carrying Letice's body. Mary hurried after her, and the two of them entered the forest.

"Letice... I won't let you become a Dementor.

If that's the fate awaiting you, then... I'll do it myself."

When a person has their soul taken by a Dementor, they transform into one of the creatures.

And there was only one way to prevent that.

Still holding Letice close, Mirabel drew her wand and pressed it against Letice's back.

Before Mary could even cry out, Mirabel spoke the incantation.

"Avada Kedavra."

A green flash struck Letice, and the faint signs of life that lingered came to an end.

This was Mirabel Beresford's first act of killing.

And in that moment, Edith understood why Mirabel never hesitated when taking a life.

Because the very first life she took had been the most precious to her.

After killing her one and only best friend, everyone else was nothing but dust in her eyes.

"Do not worry, Letis... I will never leave you alone."

The lifeless body was gently laid down, and her eyelids were softly closed. With a wave of the wand, a small light emerged from her chest—a silvery glow, a faint remnant of a soul.

It was what the Dementor had failed to consume entirely, nothing more than scraps of a soul left behind. Mirabel summoned her Patronus, which absorbed the remnant soul. The moment it did, the Patronus transformed, taking on the exact likeness of Letis.

"From now on, we'll always be together. Together, we will change this rotten magical world."

Mary could not see Mirabel's face, but her voice carried a complex mix of joy and sorrow.

"Magnificent, isn't it? ...I will destroy everything and create everything anew. I will eradicate the scum that cling to power through bloodlines and connections, and build an ideal magical nation where those like you, with true talent, can thrive."

Mirabel let out a low, sinister chuckle. Her lips curled into a crescent moon, and the balance of her morality, once teetering toward the light, was abruptly restored to its original state. There was now no one who could stop her malice. She needed no one.

Thus, any hope for her redemption vanished in that moment. What remained was a broken demon, unchecked and unstoppable.

"Yes, that's the way... that's how it should be. The filthy Dementors, the Ministry of Magic, the so-called purebloods... this magical world that denied you... this world that drove you to your death! I will reject it all, destroy it all! I have no need for a world like this! If the world denies you, then I shall annihilate the world in its entirety!!"

On this day, the magical world made the gravest mistake of all—the worst possible choice at the worst possible moment. There was no turning back now. The only chance to stop this demon was lost, and they had been the ones to shatter it.

Now, the only path left was one leading to destruction.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!! Ahahahahahahahahahaha!! Aaaahahahahahahaha!!!"

Mirabel laughed. She laughed hysterically, her laughter unhinged and inhuman. Amid the relentless rain, she laughed with tears of blood streaming down her face.

"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha !!!!!!!"

On this day, the greatest and most terrible demon in the history of the magical world was born.

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