Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

Since that incident, the relationship between Mirabel and Edith had grown distant.

They had once spent nearly every day together, but that had abruptly stopped, and now they hardly even tried to talk.

Neither the Quidditch match, where Slytherin lost, nor the appearance of another victim of the "Heir" stirred their hearts.

It wasn't as though they had a massive fight or even a heated argument. It was simply that Edith stopped speaking to Mirabel.

That alone was enough to dissolve their fragile, false friendship.

When they passed each other in the hallway, no words were exchanged. Even when Mirabel noticed Edith's occasional glances, she didn't respond.

Edith lacked the courage to approach, and Mirabel lacked the will to bridge the gap.

This strained relationship dragged on for about two months, until a day just before Christmas.

As Mirabel walked through the hallway, she saw a slender boy, so delicate he could be mistaken for a girl, approaching from the opposite direction.

It was Sydney Beresford, a first-year Hufflepuff and Mirabel's younger brother.

Stopping in front of Mirabel, Sydney spoke slowly, his tone tinged with a hint of nervousness.

"Sister."

"Sydney? What is it?"

"Are you aware of the 'Dueling Club' being held tonight?"

"I am."

Mirabel, of course, knew about the Dueling Club.

However, she wasn't particularly interested.

The event was being hosted by Gilderoy Lockhart, and it was clear the duels would be interrupted midway.

Sydney, unaware of this, seemed quite enthusiastic about it.

"Are you participating?"

"Yes. What about you, Sister?"

"I'm not inclined to… but if you're joining, it might be worth seeing how much you've improved."

"Your kind words honor me… I will not disappoint you."

Though she had no intention of joining, she couldn't back out now.

To be fair, she was genuinely curious about her brother's growth.

After all, he was one of her loyal pawns, and knowing how useful he could be was important.

After promising to participate, Mirabel parted ways with Sydney and headed to her classes.

That evening, Lockhart's voice filled the Great Hall as he addressed the gathered students.

"Everyone, gather around! Can you hear my voice? Can you see me? Wonderful, wonderful!

Professor Dumbledore has graciously allowed me to establish this Dueling Club. It is to prepare you all for the unlikely—but not impossible—circumstance in which you might need to defend yourselves. I, who have had countless experiences, am here to train you properly!"

Standing on a golden stage, Lockhart gestured dramatically, his every word exaggerated like a theatrical performance.

"Now, let me introduce Professor Snape as my assistant. He claims to have some knowledge of dueling.

He has bravely agreed to assist me with a brief demonstration before we begin training.

But fret not, young ones—after our duel, your Potions Master will still be intact! No need to worry about that!"

Lockhart seemed to possess a natural talent for rubbing people the wrong way.

Snape's expression twisted with rage, and were it not for his position as a teacher, he might have cursed Lockhart on the spot.

Considering how much this embodiment of "incompetence" had mocked him, Snape's reaction was understandable.

The result of the demonstration was inevitable: Lockhart was effortlessly disarmed and knocked out by Snape's Disarming Charm.

Even as Lockhart attempted to downplay his defeat with excuses, Snape's glare silenced any further justifications.

"That's enough for the demonstration! Now, everyone, pair up. Professor Snape, could you assist with this?"

Lockhart and Snape moved among the students, assigning pairs.

It seemed students couldn't choose their partners, as Harry and Ron were separated.

"It seems even the best of partners must part ways. Weasley, you'll pair with Finnegan.

Potter, you'll be with Malfoy. Let's see how the famous Harry Potter handles this."

Pairing Harry with his nemesis Malfoy, Snape then turned his attention to Hermione.

She was the brightest student in Gryffindor, and few across her year could rival her skills.

However, pairing her with an older student would be too blatant, and giving her a weaker opponent to boost her confidence wasn't something Snape would enjoy.

The choice of partner was clear.

"Miss Granger, pair up with Miss Beresford."

If anyone were to face Gryffindor's best, it should be Slytherin's best—Mirabel.

At the mention of her nightmarish dueling partner's name, Hermione's face turned pale, while Mirabel's lit up with an amused smile.

Among their peers, none could rival Mirabel—except for Hermione. She was the sole exception, someone extraordinary, offering the possibility of a genuinely enjoyable duel.

"Well, this is quite a treat."

"The others are hardly worth my time, but you're different, Granger. I've been wanting to face you."

"I… see. That's an honor, I suppose."

Hermione versus Mirabel—a de facto battle for the title of the strongest second-year.

Both were far above the level of their peers, and the crowd buzzed with anticipation, their eyes glued to this high-stakes matchup.

"Face your opponent! Bow!"

A bow before a duel was a sacred tradition, one so ingrained that even the Dark Lord would adhere to it.

Hermione bowed slowly, and Mirabel responded with a graceful bow of her own.

Despite her demeanor, Mirabel was from a distinguished family and had been well-trained in etiquette.

Of course, had her opponent been someone like Malfoy or Weasley, her pride would never have allowed her to lower her head.

By bowing, Mirabel acknowledged and respected her opponent. She deemed Hermione worthy of such recognition—someone with both skill and value.

"When I count to three, cast a Disarming Spell on your opponent! Just the Disarming Spell, all right? We don't want any accidents. One… two… three!"

At the end of Lockhart's countdown, both Mirabel and Hermione drew their wands.

Hermione had the advantage of a smaller wand, roughly 25 cm, which made it quicker to draw and easier to maneuver.

In contrast, Mirabel's wand was an extraordinary 72 cm, making her initial movements slower.

But her inhuman speed made up for the handicap, allowing her to draw and cast her spell at the same time as Hermione.

"Expelliarmus!"

Two red flashes collided in the center, canceling each other out.

If Mirabel had used her full strength, she could have overwhelmed Hermione easily.

But where was the fun in that?

This was a rare opportunity, and Mirabel intended to enjoy it fully.

She glanced toward the first-year duels and saw Sydney effortlessly disarming Weasley's youngest sister. That match was over before it had truly begun.

Sighing at her brother's poor luck in drawing an uninteresting opponent, Mirabel turned back to focus on the thrilling duel in front of her.

"Avifors! Become a bird!"

"Verdimillious! Floating floor!"

Hermione's wand was about to be turned into a bird, but the spell was intercepted by a conjured floating platform.

The result? The platform turned into a bird instead, leaving Hermione's wand completely unharmed.

"Well, well…" Mirabel laughed, clearly entertained.

This time, Hermione launched her attack.

"Oppugno! Attack!"

"Orchideous! Flowers!"

Hermione commanded the bird, now transformed from the platform, to snatch Mirabel's wand.

But Mirabel conjured vines from the ground, which swiftly ensnared the bird.

The vines then extended further, striking toward Hermione's wand.

"Lacarnum Inflamari! Fire!"

Faced with the attacking vines, Hermione countered by summoning flames to burn them away.

Seeing this, Mirabel's smile deepened.

As expected, this girl was a worthy opponent. It wasn't even worth playing around unless her opponent was as skilled as this.

"Ha-ha-ha! Well done, Granger! That was a clever move!"

"Of course! I've studied hard for this!"

"Impressive. But your fighting style is a bit too clever for its own good."

As soon as she finished speaking, Mirabel closed the distance between them in a single step and swung her wand.

Hermione's wand, along with her right hand, was flung upward, leaving her defenseless.

Instead of following up with another attack, Mirabel pointed her wand at Hermione's chest and gave a sly smile.

"See? That's one 'death' for you. If I had cast a spell, it would've been over."

"Th-that's unfair! Charging at me like that!"

"Fufu... Lockhart only said we had to disarm our opponent. This is a perfectly valid strategy, Granger."

Hermione pouted, puffing out her cheeks in frustration, while Mirabel smirked mischievously.

Irritated by her opponent's smugness, Hermione lunged for Mirabel's wand.

But Mirabel swiftly grabbed Hermione's collar, swept her feet out from under her, and sent her sprawling to the floor.

"I admire your flexibility in responding immediately, but your movements are far too predictable."

"Y-you little—!"

Hermione lunged again, but Mirabel remained completely unfazed.

With a quick twist of Hermione's arm, Mirabel effortlessly flipped her over, sending her crashing to the ground.

This wasn't magic—it was pure technique, using her opponent's momentum against them.

"Also, I take pride in my strength even without magic. You have no chance in a physical fight."

"Ugh..."

Hermione, sitting on the ground with a sore rear, looked tearful as she rubbed her backside.

Despite this, Mirabel didn't press her advantage. She simply stood there, her lips curling in amusement, waiting for Hermione's next move.

As Mirabel suspected, this girl was a raw gem.

Hermione was still a typical know-it-all for now, but she possessed a rare adaptability—she could learn and master new things quickly if taught.

More than anything, Hermione's refusal to give up, even in this situation, was remarkable.

Though unpolished, fighting someone like her was exhilarating, even thrilling.

Unfortunately, their duel was abruptly interrupted by Lockhart's voice.

"Stop it! That's enough!"

Apparently, Harry Potter and Malfoy had broken the rules and escalated their own duel.

Mirabel was visibly displeased at having her fun cut short, while Hermione looked relieved.

Though she had essentially lost, she had managed to avoid having her wand taken, which was a small comfort.

Mirabel lightly patted Hermione on the shoulder and whispered so only she could hear:

"We were interrupted at a good part… Next time, let's duel without any time limits, Granger."

"Haha… sure…"

After that, nothing particularly interesting happened. Events unfolded much as expected.

Malfoy summoned a snake, and Harry drove it away by speaking Parseltongue, revealing his ability to speak to snakes.

This revelation caused rumors to spread that Harry Potter was the Heir of Slytherin.

Naturally, the Duel Club session was cut short amid the chaos, and the students dispersed.

Afterward, most of the students became convinced that Harry was the Heir of Slytherin.

Though Harry denied it, the ability to speak Parseltongue—a rare and peculiar talent—worked against him.

Parseltongue, the language of snakes, was associated with Salazar Slytherin, who was said to pass it only to his descendants.

At Hogwarts, Harry was the only one who could speak it, making it hard to refute the accusations.

To make matters worse, Justin Finch-Fletchley, who had argued with Harry, became a victim of the mysterious attacks, and Harry was the one to discover him.

It seemed almost orchestrated, adding to the suspicion.

Now, Harry was shunned by most of the school.

Still, he had two friends who believed in his innocence.

Together, they devised a plan to find the true Heir of Slytherin.

The plan involved brewing Polyjuice Potion to transform into Slytherin students and extract information from Malfoy, whom they suspected was the heir.

"We'll need a part of the person we want to transform into… hair will do. Obviously, you two should get hairs from Crabbe and Goyle.

Since they're Malfoy's lackeys, they'll probably spill everything," Hermione explained.

Harry and Ron grimaced in clear disgust.

Even if it was necessary, the thought of drinking a potion containing Crabbe or Goyle's hair was revolting.

But the bigger question was, who would Hermione transform into?

Curious, Harry turned to her and asked.

"But what about yours? Whose hair will you pluck out?"

"I already have mine," Hermione declared triumphantly in response to Harry's question, pulling a small vial from her pocket.

Inside the vial was a single, beautiful strand of golden hair, shining like a thread of sunlight.

"Whose hair is that?"

"Mirabel Beresford."

"Wha—?! Of all people...! How on earth did you get that?!"

Harry and Ron turned pale at the mention of the terrifying name and immediately questioned how she had managed to obtain it. Plucking a hair from her would be as difficult and dangerous as trying to yank one from Fluffy, the three-headed dog.

Hermione beamed, as if she'd been waiting for them to ask.

"Remember that time I got into a scuffle with her? Well, 'scuffle' is a generous way of putting it—she basically threw me across the room. But by chance, one of her hairs got stuck to my robe. Since she's gone back home for the Christmas holidays, even if someone suspects something, a little intimidation should be enough to shut them up. Everyone's afraid of her, after all."

"S-still, are you sure it's okay? Beresford and Malfoy aren't exactly on good terms..."

"It's fine. Malfoy's scared of her too. If she glares at him even once, I bet he'd spill everything."

Though still feeling uneasy, Harry and Ron reluctantly accepted her explanation and set off to collect hairs from Crabbe and Goyle.

The method they used was ridiculously simple. They placed chocolate cakes laced with a sleeping draught in plain sight. Despite the cakes being suspiciously placed on the staircase handrail — the last place you'd expect to see food — Crabbe and Goyle gobbled them down without a second thought. In no time, the two of them collapsed, fast asleep.

Harry and Ron plucked a hair from each of the two dozing oafs and, after tossing them behind a nearby pillar, dashed back to the bathroom where Hermione was waiting.

"Alright, you've got them. Now drop the hairs into the glasses," Hermione instructed.

They each dropped a hair into one of the three prepared glasses. The potion inside began to bubble and change color.

The potion for Harry, who would transform into Goyle, turned a snot-like khaki green.

The one for Ron, who would become Crabbe, turned a murky brown, like raw sewage.

Hermione's potion, which would turn her into Mirabel, turned into a blinding, radiant gold.

Unlike the others, her potion shimmered brilliantly, as if it was glowing with its own light. The intensity of the color was so overwhelming it almost seemed to be showing off — much like Mirabel's personality.

"... We have to drink this, huh?"

"Mine doesn't just look bad — it smells awful, too..."

"Stop whining! Just drink it already!" Hermione barked, showing no hesitation as she pushed them to move forward.

While Harry and Ron hesitated, revolted by the revolting colors of their potions, Hermione remained as composed as ever, even exuding an air of superiority.

Her potion may have looked unusual, but at least it didn't seem disgusting — and that alone gave her the confidence to act without fear.

"So unfair, Hermione. You're the only one who got lucky."

"Exactly. Beresford might have a terrible personality, but at least she looks amazing... looks amazing."

Grumbling to themselves, Harry and Ron each entered a separate bathroom stall. They pinched their noses, tilted their heads back, and gulped down the potions in one go.

The taste? Well… it's better left unsaid.

After transforming, they changed out of their ill-fitting clothes and into the spares Hermione had thoughtfully prepared for them.

When Harry, now fully transformed into Goyle, stepped out of his stall, he was met with a shocking sight.

Standing there was none other than Mirabel herself — or rather, Hermione disguised as Mirabel.

"It looks like it worked. You really do look just like Goyle."

"Same goes for you, Hermione. But a friendly Beresford… that's a fresh sight."

"I know, right? I thought the same when I looked in the mirror," Hermione replied.

As they chatted, Ron, now transformed into Crabbe, appeared at last, his voice low and gruff.

"Blimey… we really pulled it off."

He gazed at himself in the mirror, poking at Crabbe's flattened nose while making a series of ridiculous faces.

Taking the hint, Harry and Hermione also practiced mimicking facial expressions, trying their best to resemble their targets.

"Hey, do I really look like Beresford?"

Hermione twirled on the spot, looking to the two boys for confirmation.

Harry and Ron exchanged awkward glances, frowning thoughtfully.

Up close, it was clear just how stunning Mirabel was. Seeing her act like a normal girl was strangely refreshing.

But something felt off.

Sure, for a girl, this was probably the right way to behave, but for Mirabel Beresford, it was all wrong — fatally wrong.

"Hmm… Beresford's more… condescending, you know? And you've gotta copy her way of talking too."

"Okay, um… Hmph! Then why don't you try pointing out exactly what's so amusing? …Does that sound right, Harry?"

"Your expression needs to be more… overbearing."

"Fuhahaha! You lowly peasants! …Like this?"

Harry and Ron tilted their heads, frowning in unison.

Nope. This wasn't it. This was not it at all.

Something was missing — something crucial.

The real Mirabel had this overwhelming presence, an almost curse-like charm. But this fake Mirabel had none of that.

Sure, Hermione looked like a breathtakingly beautiful girl, the kind that could make any guy swoon. But this went beyond mere looks. There was something Mirabel had that Hermione just couldn't replicate.

"Ugh, thinking about it won't help! Let's just go, you two!"

No amount of thinking would solve it. Besides, the goal wasn't to perfectly imitate Mirabel — it was to fool Malfoy.

Time was limited, and every second counted.

Steeling themselves, the three of them dashed out of the bathroom and made their way to the Slytherin common room.

Luckily, Hermione remembered its location and led the way with a confident stride.

The only obstacle was the password to enter the dormitory, but Hermione had already cracked it somehow.

The password was "pureblood."

How she figured it out was anyone's guess, but it saved them a lot of trouble.

They descended the staircase leading to the dungeons, made a sharp turn, and everything was going smoothly.

That is… until fate decided to throw a wrench into their plans.

They ran into a girl.

"…Mirabel?"

She was a second-year Slytherin with short brown hair — someone Harry, Ron, and Hermione all recognized.

She was one of the few students who didn't fear Mirabel Beresford, and perhaps the only person in all of Hogwarts who dared to be her friend.

Her name was Edith Reinagle.

"O-oh… Edith, huh. What are you doing here?" Hermione stammered, doing her best to sound like Mirabel.

"What am I doing here? This is the entrance to the Slytherin common room. You're the one who should be gone. Weren't you supposed to be home for Christmas?"

"Ah, well… something urgent came up. I had to return for a bit," Hermione replied, doing her best to stay composed.

Edith's eyes narrowed as she studied "Mirabel" with suspicion.

But for whatever reason, she didn't press the issue.

Hermione used the opportunity to slip past her, walking briskly toward the entrance to the dormitory.

Harry and Ron, disguised as Goyle and Crabbe, followed right behind her, only increasing Edith's suspicion.

The oddity of this unusual trio had clearly set off alarm bells in her mind.

Her sharp gaze followed them the entire way.

Trying to shake off the unsettling feeling, the three reached the entrance, said the password "pureblood", and slipped inside.

Left behind, Edith remained rooted in place, eyes locked on the direction they had gone.

Her eyes were still narrowed, as if lost in thought.

Her gaze didn't waver, not even a little.

And then, she muttered softly, repeating the one word that had set off her suspicions more than anything else.

"…'Edith'…?"

Her voice was quiet, but it cut through the silence like a blade.

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