Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

On the outskirts of Albania stood the Beresford Estate.

In its living room, Mavis waved her wand, conjuring tea on the table.

It was a task usually left to the house-elves, so it was unclear why the lady of the house was doing it herself.

Perhaps it was a gesture of sincerity toward her rare visitor.

The guest, Albus Dumbledore, lifted the cup to his lips with a cheerful smile.

"So, what brings you here today?"

To be honest, Mavis had no desire to see anyone right now.

Her husband and eldest son were dead, and her daughter and youngest son were missing.

Few people could remain calm under such circumstances.

Whether Dumbledore knew this or not, he spoke with his usual calm demeanor.

"Well, you see... I am currently investigating the past of your daughter, Mirabel."

"...For what purpose?"

"To prevent her from carrying out a terrifying plan."

It was a blunt statement.

While he didn't say it outright, it was effectively the same as saying, "Your daughter is involved in something so dangerous that I must intervene."

Mavis raised an eyebrow, her displeasure evident.

"My, oh my... And you think I'll believe that?"

"Of course. I do."

Mavis loved her daughter.

Naturally, one would expect her to dismiss such a story.

But Dumbledore believed that Mavis had already reached the same conclusion.

"Last year, when your husband Heathcote was attacked—ah, please don't take this the wrong way—but regarding that tragedy, I am convinced that we share the same understanding."

"...My husband died of an illness. Or perhaps he was targeted by one of 'You-Know-Who's' followers..."

"Indeed, that is what you thought at first.

But with your daughter suddenly vanishing, along with the house-elves and servants, you must have begun to suspect something else."

At Dumbledore's observation, Mavis's shoulders trembled.

There was no denying it.

She had done the housework herself today, which she would normally leave to the house-elves.

Not out of sincerity toward Dumbledore, but because she had no other choice.

Yes... Right now, there wasn't a single servant or house-elf left in the mansion.

Her daughter, Mirabel, had gone missing, and at the same time, as if prearranged, Sidney and the other servants vanished.

Her husband Heathcote and youngest son Simon died soon after, as if their purpose had been fulfilled.

At that point, even Mavis had to recognize the connection between these events.

After all, she was also a Beresford—she knew the nature of that family well.

As Heathcote's wife, she had long been aware of the danger that bloodline could harbor.

If anyone knew that their daughter might be capable of such actions, it would be her.

Thus, she reached a grim conclusion.

—They had been discarded by their daughter.

"...Do you think... Do you think that girl killed my husband and Simon?"

"A sad truth, but yes."

Dumbledore took a sip of tea and delivered his verdict without mercy.

He wasn't looking to confirm the facts at this point.

He wanted Mavis to accept the truth and move the conversation forward.

"That girl killed many Death Eaters and Aurors at the Ministry of Magic last year, as well as Fudge himself."

"...!"

"When she went after Fudge, it was something else entirely.

It was as if she had found her prey, and she flew at him with raw hatred."

Cornelius Fudge.

The former Minister for Magic and a man infamous for the rot he brought to the wizarding world.

Given Mirabel's views, her anger toward him was understandable.

For a girl who claimed she would rid the world of incompetence, Fudge would be the prime example of someone she would seek to crush.

But was that anger alone enough to explain her ferocity?

There had been far more incompetent men than Fudge in the past.

Take Gilderoy Lockhart, for example.

But Mirabel never displayed such hatred toward him.

So why, then, had she shown such raw fury against Fudge?

"I believe you know the reason.

And I suspect that very reason is what distorted that girl so deeply."

Mavis said nothing.

Her lips were sealed, and her shoulders shook as if enduring something painful.

Seeing this, Dumbledore became certain that his hypothesis was correct.

There was no doubt.

This woman knew.

She knew the source of the blazing hatred that resided within Mirabel.

"…Leave."

"...Mrs. Mavis."

"There is nothing more I can tell you."

Had he miscalculated?

Dumbledore felt a flicker of anxiety as he desperately searched for words to continue the conversation.

"Don't be like that. At least talk with me until you finish your tea."

"There is nothing to talk about."

Dumbledore's brow furrowed slightly, and he felt a strong urge to click his tongue at his own carelessness.

It seemed he had been too hasty.

Uncharacteristically impatient, he had misjudged Mavis's emotional state.

Now that she had become so obstinate, no amount of persuasion would reach her — his words would simply go in one ear and out the other.

It seemed it would be best to end things here for today.

"...I'll come again."

Leaving his half-finished tea on the table, Dumbledore stood up.

He had a feeling that next time, his tea might be laced with something unpleasant, so perhaps he should bring his own mead.

One way or another, time was running out.

If possible, he wanted to draw the truth from her next time, or at the very least, the time after that.

But things rarely went as one hoped.

"It's over... It's all over..."

"...Edith, what exactly did you do?"

In the library, Hermione spoke in exasperation as she watched Malfoy muttering to himself, utterly dejected.

She had seen him downcast before, sometimes even made so by Mirabel, but this was the worst it had ever been.

The fact that he was so despondent that he didn't even notice Hermione and Harry nearby said it all.

"Um... I think I accidentally ruined his whole plan or something..."

"It was probably a terrible plan anyway. You have nothing to feel guilty about, Edith," Harry said sharply to Edith, who looked uncomfortable.

No plan Malfoy had ever concocted had gone well.

So it was only natural to assume that this one was no different.

Harry's conclusion was a bit biased, but sadly, it was also true.

Perhaps driven to the brink of despair, Malfoy raised his voice in a fit of rage.

**"Yeah, that's right! You wouldn't understand, 'Chosen One' Potter! You'll never understand the burden I'm carrying!

You could never understand the torment of being ordered to kill Dumbledore!"**

"What did you just say...? So, after all, you really were trying to kill Dumbledore?!"

"That's right! 'He' ordered me to do it!

I had to succeed! But... but then that traitor over there—!"

"Traitor" was a misnomer, as Edith had never once been on Malfoy's side.

But in his desperation and clouded mind, Malfoy wasn't thinking rationally.

He raged like a madman and reached for his wand — but it was already gone, confiscated earlier by Edith.

With no other option, he charged forward to strike with his fists, only to be hit by Harry's Disarming Charm and sent rolling helplessly across the floor.

"Did you hear that, Hermione?! I knew it! I was right all along!"

"Y-Yes, I heard it... But wait a minute. Malfoy... Don't tell me, were you behind what happened to Katie and Ron as well?"

As if unwilling to meet Harry's triumphant gaze, Hermione asked her question cautiously.

It seemed that, having resigned himself to the complete collapse of his plans, Malfoy decided to come clean.

"Yeah, that's right. I used the Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta and made her give the cursed necklace to that girl.

I also had her deliver the poisoned mead."

"B-But how did you manage to coordinate it all? All communication with the outside was being monitored at the school."

Hermione's question was entirely logical.

How had he managed to maintain contact with the outside world?

At this, Malfoy sneered, as if mocking her for not realizing.

**"Hah, I got the idea from you, you filthy Mudblood!

I enchanted a coin. I kept one on me, so I could give orders at any time."**

That method — it was the same idea Hermione had come up with the previous year to communicate with Dumbledore's Army.

The realization that her own idea had been repurposed for such evil made Hermione's face twist in anguish.

Her expression was all the more painful because of Malfoy's smug, scornful grin.

"The idea to use poison was yours too. I overheard you in the library saying that Filch wouldn't be able to detect poisons.

Serves you right, you filthy Mudblood! That's right, it was all your idea! None of it was mine!

You're the one who nearly killed that blood-traitor Weasley and Katie Bell!"

"...!"

**"Oh, what's this? Are you gonna cry? How pathetic. Once people get like that, it's all over for them!

If anyone should be crying, it's me! It's because of you filthy Mudbloods like you that—"**

That was as far as Malfoy's tirade went.

His hateful words, which cut deep into Hermione's heart, were silenced before she could react.

Harry had reached his limit.

Before anyone noticed, Harry's tightly clenched fist had already slammed into Malfoy's face, breaking his nose and front teeth, sending him crashing to the floor.

"Shut up, Malfoy!"

Harry mounted Malfoy, pinning him to the floor, and started pummeling him with all his strength.

Malfoy tried to resist, but Harry didn't stop.

The number of battles they'd faced was on a completely different level.

Since his first year, Harry had faced life-threatening situations and even suffered the effects of the Cruciatus Curse.

Meanwhile, Malfoy had spent his days surrounded by lackeys who pampered him.

Even if their physical builds were similar, their tolerance for pain was not.

Moreover, Harry and Hermione were now so close that it wouldn't be a stretch to call them something more than friends.

To insult Hermione was to enrage Harry in a way Malfoy couldn't comprehend.

In that moment, Harry had become a beast consumed by fury.

"Do you even understand?! Because of you, two people almost died!

Katie and Ron only survived because they got lucky! Do you understand that?!

And yet you laugh about it like it's nothing! What do you think a life is worth?!"

Harry's fists kept flying.

Punch after punch after punch.

Even when Malfoy's front teeth were broken, and blood was spraying from his nose, and his resistance had completely stopped — Harry didn't stop.

Malfoy's face was stained with blood, and even though Harry's arm hurt from the repeated strikes, he didn't care.

He could heal his arm with a quick visit to Madam Pomfrey.

But a life lost never returns.

No matter what method you use, a lost family member is gone forever.

And Malfoy had tried to make that happen.

He tried to make Katie's family and the Weasley family suffer that same pain.

Unforgivable...

He must not be forgiven.

He cannot be forgiven.

"You took something Hermione thought up to help her friends and twisted it into something vile!

It's because of people like you that grief never goes away!

Grit your teeth! Because today, I'm going to beat that rotten attitude out of you!"

"Shut up... Shut up, shut up, shut up!!

I didn't want to do any of this either!!"

Tears welled up in Malfoy's eyes as he threw a punch at Harry's face.

Yeah, he was probably right.

Everything Malfoy was saying was true, undeniably so.

But then, what was he supposed to have done?!

With his mother and father taken hostage, what other choice did he have but to obey?!

Overwhelmed with frustration, Malfoy wildly threw his fists at Harry.

Harry returned each blow with another.

They rolled across the floor, fists flying, driven solely by the force of their mutual anger.

"Stop it! Stop it right now! What is all this commotion?!"

"Potter, stop this at once! What do you think you're doing?!"

Of course, fighting in the library drew attention.

Madam Pince and Professor McGonagall had arrived, alerted by the noise.

Even with their voices calling out, Harry didn't stop.

What was this pain compared to what Malfoy had tried to do?

This fool needed to have pain carved into his bones.

Because this pain was nothing compared to the pain of never being able to see your family or friends again.

"Stop it! I said STOP, Potter!"

With McGonagall's furious shout, Harry suddenly felt a magical force push him away.

Groaning in pain, he got to his feet.

Before him stood McGonagall, eyes sharp with fury, and Madam Pince, looking scandalized.

Hermione and Edith were frozen in panic.

Malfoy was curled up on the floor, sobbing and whimpering like a beaten child.

"What on earth is going on here, Potter?!

To think you'd resort to beating another student! This is absolutely disgraceful!"

"Even that isn't enough, Professor McGonagall...

That scumbag almost killed Katie and Ron."

"What... did you just say?"

McGonagall's face, which had been red with anger, turned pale.

Harry, still burning with fury, threw his words at her like daggers.

"Just now, Malfoy confessed. He cast the Imperius Curse on Madam Rosmerta, had her give the cursed necklace to Katie, and sent the poisoned mead to Professor Slughorn!"

"W-what...?! That is a most serious accusation, Potter! D-do you have any proof?"

When McGonagall mentioned "proof," Harry immediately recalled Malfoy's earlier words.

Without hesitation, Harry grabbed Malfoy by the collar and thrust his hand into Malfoy's trouser pocket, rummaging through it.

And there it was — he felt the shape of a coin at his fingertips!

Harry snatched it up at once, gave it a brief glance, and then showed it to McGonagall.

**"Check this coin! It's been enchanted! It allows him to communicate with Madam Rosmerta!

And on the eighth floor, in the Room of Requirement, you'll find the wreckage of the Vanishing Cabinet he was repairing to kill Dumbledore!"**

"G-give it here!"

McGonagall's trembling hands seized the coin Harry offered.

She examined it closely, tapping it several times with her wand.

From the coin, a voice echoed out, clear as day:

"Is there something you need, Master Malfoy?"

It was the unmistakable voice of Madam Rosmerta.

McGonagall's expression shifted to one of severity. She glared down at Malfoy with a gaze as sharp as a blade.

**"This... this is absolutely outrageous, Malfoy.

Do you have any idea what it means to use the Imperius Curse on another person?"**

Her anger had been palpable before, but this was different.

Previously, it was the kind of anger a mother might show when scolding a misbehaving child — fierce, but still tinged with compassion.

But now, there was none of that softness.

What was on McGonagall's face now was pure, unyielding rage.

But Malfoy just kept sniveling, unable to muster a response.

**"Regardless, we must lift the curse on Madam Rosmerta immediately.

And we must inform Professor Dumbledore as well.

Harry, Granger, and Reinagel! You three are coming with me to the Headmaster's office!"**

"Someone... someone stop her!"

"I-it's impossible! She broke through the Thief's Downfall!"

"What's the dragon doing?!"

"The dragon's been subdued! It's following her orders!"

Gringotts Bank was in utter chaos that day.

The bank, known as the second most secure place in the wizarding world, had seen its fair share of attempted robberies in the past.

Though it was a bitter truth, it was undeniable that some thieves had managed to succeed.

But never like this.

No one had ever tried to storm Gringotts in broad daylight.

"Where are the security trolls?!"

"A-all of them are down!"

"All of them?! Thirty-eight trolls?!"

It was a heist so bold, so reckless, so ferocious, that there was no precedent for it.

The one responsible was a single girl — Mirabel Beresford.

She charged into Gringotts, knocking down goblins like they were paper dolls, wiping out the security trolls, smashing down the unyielding vault doors, and taming the dragon that guarded the deeper chambers.

Her relentless advance had no equal.

No trap, no defense, no curse could stop her.

She marched through cursed pathways as if she owned them, shattered magically fortified walls, and shrugged off traps that engulfed her in flames.

To the horror of the goblins, there was no countermeasure in the bank that could stop this unkillable monster.

Of course, there were other, more subtle ways she could have done it.

With the Imperius Curse and the troll-handling talent of someone like Quirrell, she could have infiltrated the bank unnoticed, causing no disturbance, and reached her objective in secret.

However, Mirabel had absolute confidence in her own power, believing that a place like Gringotts was no match for her in her current state.

She found no appeal in sneaking around or using underhanded tactics to avoid the notice of mere goblins.

And so, the method she chose was one of the most absurd in recorded history — a full-scale, head-on bank robbery.

It was a brazen, fearless display of brute force, as if daring anyone to try and stop her.

"S-stop her! For the honor of Gringotts, don't let her get any further!"

Dozens of enchanted security golems charged at Mirabel at the goblins' command.

But Mirabel's composure never faltered.

With a devilish grin on her face, she smashed, sliced, and blasted apart the golems, decimating them in the blink of an eye.

Finally, she slammed her fist into the ground, triggering a massive explosion that radiated outward from her position.

The blast obliterated every last golem.

"A-aah… aahhhh…!"

The bank was in flames. Shattered debris flew through the air.

A goblin, paralyzed with fear by the surreal scene before him, collapsed to the floor.

From the raging inferno, an unscathed demon emerged as if nothing had happened.

Her flawless beauty, unmarred by a single scratch, was twisted with intoxicated euphoria.

With the glow of fire reflecting on her face, she sneered with a look of utter contempt, as if she were gazing down on all creation.

"Hey, you."

"Y-yes?!"

"Choose. Die here, or submit."

Presented with only two choices, the goblin fell prostrate without a moment's hesitation.

Instinct told him everything he needed to know.

This was a monster. Not a person to be defied.

No matter what, he could never win against her.

Once he realized that, his pride was meaningless.

Mirabel grabbed the goblin by the scruff of his neck and resumed her advance.

Eventually, she arrived at her destination: the Malfoy family's vault.

The door, protected by special enchantments, was no match for her.

With overwhelming magical power, she blew it to pieces.

Stepping over the twisted, useless scraps of metal, she finally entered the vault.

"Hmph. That was more trouble than it was worth."

Amidst the mountain of treasures, Mirabel unerringly reached for a single cup.

It was none other than Helga Hufflepuff's Cup, a Horcrux entrusted by Voldemort to one of his subordinates.

Originally, it had been stored in the Lestrange family vault.

But after Mirabel slaughtered the entire Lestrange family the previous year, the cup was hastily moved to the Malfoy family vault.

Ironically, that very move ended up attracting Mirabel's attention.

The transfer of an item from the Lestranges to the Malfoys — both being among the highest-ranking Death Eater families — raised suspicions.

Sensing something important was being hidden, Mirabel captured, tortured, and killed several Death Eaters.

In doing so, she uncovered that something crucial to Voldemort was indeed hidden here.

"Hiding it in a vault, huh... Quite the lazy form of protection."

The cup was cursed.

But the curse was nothing of note.

It had two enchantments: the "Burning Curse", which ignited anything that touched it, and the "Duplicating Curse", which caused copies of the cup to multiply endlessly.

But for a monster like Mirabel, the fire wasn't hot enough to burn her hand.

And with the genuine cup in her grasp, the duplicates held no significance.

The curses were presumably meant to cause a thief to drop the cup in surprise, at which point it would begin multiplying, causing confusion.

But as a protective measure for a Horcrux, it was laughably insufficient.

Or perhaps Voldemort had simply overestimated the vault's defensive capabilities.

"Either way, they should've put up a better defense," Mirabel muttered as she gazed at the cup in her hand.

"Fiendfyre!"

Mirabel summoned the cursed flames of Fiendfyre and used it to destroy the cup in an instant.

With her task complete, she glanced upward as if she had no more use for the vault.

She raised her wand, blowing a hole in the ceiling with a powerful spell.

Then, she beckoned with her hand, calling for something.

Moments later, a dragon flew toward her.

This was the same dragon that had been imprisoned and forced into servitude by Gringotts for years.

As a "higher species" in the magical world, dragons were creatures of immense power.

And yet, this one had been bound, broken, and exploited for the bank's security.

Mirabel had taken pity on the wretched creature.

She healed its wounds and whispered sweet words into its ear.

Seduced by her charm and promises of freedom, the dragon had submitted to her.

Still holding the goblin by the scruff of his neck, Mirabel climbed onto the dragon's head.

She gave a signal.

Without so much as a glance back at the bank she had utterly destroyed, Mirabel soared into the vast sky, leaving only destruction in her wake.

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