Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

That year, autumn was much colder compared to previous years.

On the morning of September 1st, the world was bathed in golden light, and people walked by, their breath forming white clouds in the chilly air.

Through the crowd, a family made their way toward the station.

The father, wearing glasses, had unruly black hair and a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

Beside him was the mother, a woman with rich, wavy chestnut hair.

An owl, a junior descendant of Hedwig, hooted from atop the trolley, while a young girl, who resembled her mother, clung tearfully to her father's arm.

"It won't be long now, Lily. You'll be going too, you know."

"That's two years away! I want to go right now. I've read so many magic books and studied a lot. I can already do simple spells."

The girl pouted, her lips sticking out in defiance of her father's words.

Seeing this, Hermione chuckled softly.

How much the girl resembled her younger self.

She remembered how excited she had been when she first went to Hogwarts.

When they arrived at the station, they spotted Neville and Luna Longbottom, as well as Remus and Nymphadora Lupin.

It seemed they too had come to see off their sons or daughters.

"Feels like a dream."

Harry muttered nostalgically, and Hermione squinted her eyes as if gazing at a distant place.

"Back then, I never would have believed a day like this would come — a day where we could send our children off to Hogwarts."

Even now, the nightmare of that fateful day remained carved into Harry's memory.

The decisive battle that nearly brought ruin to the wizarding world felt as vivid as if it had happened yesterday.

On that day — after Edith took Mirabel away with the Time-Turner — the meteor never stopped.

It was far too late to stop Mirabel.

Harry had faced death countless times before, but never had he felt it so close as he did then.

It wasn't just Harry. Everyone there likely felt it in the depths of their hearts — "It's over."

However, somehow, by some miracle, the world was not destroyed.

The shooting star that had undoubtedly entered the atmosphere suddenly flew upward, as if it were a joke, and exited back into space.

Dumbledore speculated that someone might have used the counter-spell to "Accio" — "Depulso" — to push the meteor back.

But as far as Harry knew, there was no wizard capable of such a feat.

Not even Mirabel could have done it.

Although, if given several more years to evolve, that monster might have been able to pull it off...

The world was saved.

But that did not mean the wizarding world was also saved.

Tension arose between Muggles, who had learned of the existence of magic, and wizards loyal to Mirabel's ideals.

These clashes sometimes escalated into conflicts that went beyond mere skirmishes, turning into full-blown battles that claimed many lives.

Even with Dumbledore and the Order of the Phoenix working tirelessly to restore order, the situation did not improve so easily.

At one point, the wizarding world in Britain completely ceased to function.

Hogwarts was closed, and the British wizarding world had, for all intents and purposes, ceased to exist.

—The scales will not return to balance.

In the end, it was impossible to overturn the prophecy of ruin.

But Dumbledore once again displayed his brilliance.

"If the prophecy of ruin cannot be overturned, then let it be fulfilled."

Instead of resisting, he allowed the British wizarding world to collapse.

He officially declared the end of the British wizarding world.

That fulfilled the prophecy.

However, once the prophecy was realized, a new era could begin.

He then founded a "New British Wizarding World," restarting it from scratch.

It felt like a loophole, Harry thought, but technically, the prophecy had been fulfilled.

Dumbledore was as crafty as ever.

...Although, Dumbledore himself later admitted, "Things progressed unusually smoothly."

It was so smooth, in fact, that even he found it strange, as if some unseen force had been assisting them from behind the scenes.

Many lives were lost during that final battle.

Several people Harry knew never returned.

The pain of those losses still gripped his heart.

No matter where he went, he would never see Percy Weasley again.

The tough and dependable Mad-Eye Moody was gone.

So was the bald-headed Kingsley Shacklebolt.

Tonks and Neville barely clung to life, and if their treatment had been just a little slower, they too would have been lost.

Even Dumbledore remained one-armed, despite being capable of healing himself.

Perhaps he had his own reasons for keeping it that way.

Looking back at all these events, Harry couldn't help but feel like the present moment was a dream.

He had thought he'd never again see the Hogwarts Express departing for Hogwarts.

He had believed he would never have the chance to send his children off like this.

That was why he was so profoundly grateful for the happiness that now surrounded him.

"Look, there's Ron over there."

Hermione's voice called him back from his thoughts of the past.

He looked up ahead as she directed, and sure enough, there stood Ron Weasley, looking more robust than ever.

He wore a sharp Muggle suit, and the sunglasses on his face gave him a confident, commanding presence.

On the other side stood Draco Malfoy.

His head was now completely bald, shining so brightly that it almost hurt to look at.

His son, standing beside him, was the spitting image of Draco in his youth, his arms crossed as if he owned the place, exuding a haughty air.

That year, autumn was far colder than usual.

On the morning of September 1st, the world was bathed in a golden glow, and the breath of passersby formed clouds of white mist in the air.

Amidst the bustling crowd, a family made their way toward the station.

The father wore glasses and had a lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, his black hair a disheveled mess.

Beside him, the mother had thick, wavy chestnut hair that flowed elegantly down her back.

On top of a cart, a young owl, the junior of Hedwig, hooted softly. Meanwhile, a girl, who bore a striking resemblance to her mother, clung tearfully to her father's arm.

"Almost there, Lily. You'll be going too, you know," Harry said.

"Not for another two years! I want to go now! I've already read a ton of magical books and studied so much. I can already do simple spells!" she retorted, pouting defiantly.

Her father — Harry Potter — smiled wryly at his daughter's reaction.

Hermione, watching the scene, chuckled softly.

She really is just like I was back then, she thought fondly, remembering her own excitement on her first journey to Hogwarts.

When they arrived at the station, they spotted Neville and Luna Longbottom, as well as Remus and Nymphadora Lupin.

It seemed they were also there to see off their children.

"It feels like a dream," Harry murmured, nostalgia evident in his voice.

"Who would have thought we'd live to see the day we could send our children off to Hogwarts?" Hermione replied, her gaze distant, as if she were peering into the past.

The memories of that terrible day were still etched into Harry's mind like scars that never fade.

The great battle that almost wiped out the wizarding world still felt like it had happened just yesterday.

That day — the day Edith took Mirabel away using a Time-Turner.

Even after Mirabel was gone, the meteor didn't stop.

It was too late to halt the disaster.

Harry had faced death countless times before, but never had he felt it so close as he did then.

This is it... it's all over, he had thought. Everyone there had likely shared the same grim certainty.

And yet, somehow, the world did not end.

The meteor, which had broken through the atmosphere, suddenly reversed course as if it were all some kind of joke. It rose back up into the sky and disappeared beyond the atmosphere.

Dumbledore speculated that someone must have used Depulso, the opposite spell to Accio, to push the meteor back. But Harry couldn't think of anyone who could perform such a feat.

Not even Mirabel, the "Empress of Destruction" herself, could have done it.

Then again, if that evolving monster had a few more years, perhaps she could have.

The world had been saved.

But that didn't mean the wizarding world had been saved.

Conflict with the Muggles who had learned of magic erupted, and clashes with those who had once idolized Mirabel escalated.

These skirmishes eventually turned into full-scale conflicts, and many lives were lost.

Even with Dumbledore, the professors, and the Order of the Phoenix working tirelessly to resolve the chaos, it wasn't enough.

For a time, the wizarding world's functions were completely paralyzed.

Hogwarts was closed.

The magical society of Britain, as it had existed, ceased to function.

The scales will never balance again.

The prophecy of destruction could not be overturned.

But, true to form, Dumbledore found a way.

If the prophecy couldn't be avoided, he reasoned, then perhaps it was possible to fulfill it in a way that would still allow for a future.

So, he allowed the destruction of "The British Wizarding World" to come to pass.

He declared it officially over — the end of an era.

But with that, he also laid the groundwork for a new beginning:

The "New British Wizarding World."

It felt like some sort of trick, but the prophecy had been fulfilled, and by definition, it had been realized.

That old man was as crafty as they come, Harry thought with a wry smile.

Dumbledore himself later admitted that everything went far more smoothly than he'd expected, as if someone unseen had been supporting them from behind the scenes.

Many were lost in that battle.

Harry still felt a pang in his chest thinking about the friends who had never returned.

He would never see Percy Weasley again.

Mad-Eye Moody, tough and reliable, was gone as well.

Kingsley, with his calm authority, was no more.

Tonks and Neville had barely survived, only to be saved by sheer luck and timely treatment.

Even Dumbledore, despite having the means to heal his arm, had chosen to remain one-armed. Perhaps it was his way of shouldering the weight of it all.

Looking back on it all, Harry felt once more that it was a miracle to be here, sending his sons off to Hogwarts.

He'd thought he would never see the Hogwarts Express again.

But here he was.

And for that, he was grateful.

"Look, over there — it's Ron!" Hermione called, snapping him back to the present.

Looking ahead, Harry spotted Ron Weasley.

He looked stronger than ever, wearing a sharp Muggle suit with a pair of sunglasses, standing confidently without a single gap in his defenses.

On the other side of the platform was Draco Malfoy, his head now fully bald and shining in the light.

The boy beside him was the spitting image of a young Draco, standing with the same arrogant posture.

Everyone changes.

But maybe that's just the nature of people.

No one stays the same. Everyone changes in time.

"Hey, Dad... what if I end up in Slytherin?" asked Albus Severus Potter, a boy who looked like a miniature version of Harry.

Slytherin had a bad reputation.

The house that produced many dark wizards, including Voldemort himself.

And Mirabel Beresford — "The Empress" who had nearly destroyed the world — had also been a Slytherin.

But Harry crouched to meet his son's gaze, his voice gentle.

"Albus Severus," he began.

The boy's name was given in honor of two of the bravest wizards Harry had ever known.

"One of those wizards was a Slytherin, and he was the bravest man I ever met.

And..."

Harry ruffled his daughter's hair.

"Lily Edith Potter. You were named after two of the kindest people I ever knew.

Being a Slytherin is nothing to be ashamed of.

Shame belongs to those who mock others for it.

It took me years to understand that."

"But... what if...?"

"Then it means Slytherin will have gained a wonderful student.

But if it matters that much to you, you can choose to be in Gryffindor.

The Sorting Hat takes your choice into account."

Once, he had been so obsessed with Gryffindor vs. Slytherin, dividing people by which house they were in.

But now, he understood.

A person's worth isn't determined by the house they belong to.

Every house has something special to offer its students.

"Go on now. Everyone's waiting for you."

"Okay!" Albus said, and ran off.

As Harry watched his son board the train, he was struck with a strong sense of nostalgia.

It was as if he were watching his younger self, Ron, and Hermione all over again.

After seeing the children off, Harry and Hermione left the station and returned to the Muggle world.

But that's when Harry saw them.

Across the road were three girls.

A girl with silver hair.

A short-haired girl with brown hair.

And a golden-haired girl he knew he could never mistake.

Behind them, a man and a house-elf followed.

"—!"

Harry broke into a run, ignoring the red light as he crossed the road.

But by the time he reached the other side, they were gone.

"A hallucination?" he muttered.

No. That wasn't a hallucination.

They had been there.

"Harry, are you alright?! Crossing the road like that is dangerous!"

"...Beresford."

"...What?"

"Mirabel Beresford. She was here. And... so was Edith."

He had no doubt.

They were alive.

His scar hadn't hurt for 19 years.

But his headaches might be about to start again.

Everyone has changed.

But perhaps that's just how people are.

No one stays the same forever. Everyone changes eventually.

"Hey, Dad. What if I get sorted into Slytherin?"

A worried Severus Potter, the spitting image of Harry as a child, voices his concern.

Slytherin doesn't have the best reputation. People say many dark wizards came from Slytherin, and even Voldemort, once known as "He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named," was a Slytherin.

To make matters worse, the "Tyrant" Mirabel Beresford, who once almost destroyed the world, is also said to have been a Slytherin.

But Harry gently reassures his son.

"Severus Alastor."

That name was a symbol of courage, given to his son.

It was the name of the two bravest and most dependable men Harry had ever known.

"You were named after two great wizards I knew.

One of them was a Slytherin and, as far as I'm concerned, the bravest person I've ever met.

And besides…"

This time, Harry places a hand on his daughter's head as he continues.

"Lily Edith Potter.

You were named after one of my dearest friends, the kindest person I ever knew.

Being in Slytherin is nothing to be ashamed of.

The only shame is in thinking it's something to be ashamed of or looking down on those who are in it.

It took me years to realize that."

"But… what if…"

"If that happens, it means Slytherin has gained one amazing student.

But if it really matters to you, you can choose not to be in Slytherin.

The Sorting Hat will listen to you."

Gryffindor or Slytherin.

In the past, Harry had been so hung up on this, filled with bias.

He had seen Slytherin as an enemy, harboring only negative thoughts about it.

But now, he understood.

A person's worth isn't determined by which house they're sorted into.

Every house has its own unique and wonderful qualities.

"Alright, off you go. Everyone's waiting for you."

"Okay!"

After sending his son off, Harry watches the train depart, carrying him away.

It reminded him of his own childhood, filling him with a deep sense of nostalgia.

After seeing his children off, Harry leaves the station and returns to the Muggle world, walking alongside Hermione.

But at that moment, he sees it.

Across the street, three girls are walking.

A girl with flowing silver hair, a short-haired friend with brown hair, and, most unmistakably, a golden-haired girl.

Trailing behind them is a man and a house-elf.

"—!"

"Harry!?"

Without thinking, Harry dashes forward, ignoring the red pedestrian light as he sprints across the street.

He bursts onto the other side of the road, but the girls are already gone.

… Was it just a vision?

No, it couldn't be. There's no way that was an illusion. She was definitely here.

"Harry, what are you doing!? Crossing the road like that is dangerous!"

"...Beresford."

"Huh?"

"Mirabel Beresford was there. And Edith too…"

It was only for a moment.

But he's sure of it. They were here.

"They're alive."

"I see… So, how do you feel about that?"

"…I don't know.

It's complicated, after all…"

Mirabel Beresford is alive.

Alive and existing in this same era.

How did he feel about that? Even Harry wasn't sure.

Fear was undoubtedly one part of it.

But at the same time, he also felt happy that Edith was alive.

"But if that's the case, why wouldn't Edith come see you?"

"Who knows? I suppose it's complicated for them too."

With a gentle expression, Harry touches the lightning-shaped scar on his forehead.

For 19 years, that scar hasn't hurt even once.

But it seems his headaches are just beginning.

"Hey, aren't you going to see everyone?"

"You can meet them by yourself. There's no way I can show my face now."

"Good grief, you're still as stubborn as ever…"

The girls blend into the crowd, disappearing from sight.

Ahead of them, a bright light shines.

— If you join Gryffindor,

You'll dwell with the brave of heart.

Bold and chivalrous,

Unlike any other, the Gryffindors.

— If you join Hufflepuff,

You are true, just, and loyal.

With patience and a heart of gold,

You see hard work not as a burden but as a joy.

— Wise and learned, Ravenclaw.

If you have the thirst to learn,

Friends of wit and wisdom,

You'll surely find them here.

— By any means necessary,

They pursue their ends with cunning.

In Slytherin, perhaps

— You'll find true friends.

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