Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

Sitting in the headmaster's office, Mavis's face was marked by exhaustion, her once radiant beauty overshadowed by despair.

It was no surprise.

Just hours earlier, her home had been attacked by the forces of darkness, leaving her homeless.

But more devastating than the loss of her home was the bitter truth: the attack happened because of the actions of her beloved daughter, and that same daughter hadn't even come to her aid.

In essence, she had been abandoned.

To her daughter, Mavis meant nothing more than that.

"Here, drink this. It'll warm you up,"

A gentle voice spoke, placing a mug of butterbeer in front of her.

If not for Dumbledore's intervention, Mavis knew she likely wouldn't still be alive.

He was her savior, yet at the same time, he stood as her daughter's enemy.

"As for your family's future," Dumbledore began softly, "we can prepare a house for you, fortified with protective magic. I will act as its Secret Keeper."

Mavis couldn't bring herself to respond.

She knew she needed to say something.

But right now, she didn't even know what words she could say.

Sensing her distress, Dumbledore continued in a soothing tone, as one might calm a frightened child.

"Mrs. Beresford, wouldn't you consider entrusting your memories to me?"

"M-my memories?"

"I can see your suffering, and I wish to share that burden with you."

Mavis's memories were indeed a source of torment for her.

Dumbledore didn't know the exact nature of those memories, but his experience with countless others allowed him to understand the kind of pain she carried.

It was regret—the anguish of someone haunted by past sins.

A burden Dumbledore himself carried.

There was calculation in his offer, he wouldn't deny that. This was a deliberate, strategic action.

But at the same time, his desire to help her was genuine.

"I…I only ever wanted to do what was best for her…"

"Love doesn't always reach its intended destination," he said gently.

"Oh… Dumbledore, please don't despise me… I was so foolish…"

"Despise you? Never. Sharing your memories with me would be an act of great courage."

With his kind, reassuring words, Dumbledore eased the pain in Mavis's heart.

Trembling, she pressed her wand to her forehead, drawing out a mist-like strand of memory.

Dumbledore received it and placed it into the Pensieve.

This would reveal it—the truth about what lay at Mirabel's core.

Suppressing his own eagerness, Dumbledore took a deep breath.

What awaited him, even he could not predict.

But perhaps now he could discern whether that girl was evil by nature—or if there was still some light within her.

He prayed, even for just a sliver of hope, that light existed.

With that wish in mind, Dumbledore immersed himself in Mavis's memories.

The memory took Dumbledore to a large mansion.

It wasn't as grand as the Beresford estate, but it was still the home of a well-off family.

In the corridor, a young girl ran with a light patter of footsteps.

At first, Dumbledore thought it was Mirabel.

But no, this wasn't Mirabel.

The details didn't match.

This girl was filled with happiness. She radiated the warmth of a child who had been deeply loved by her parents and knew no hardship.

"Mom, mom! Has the letter from Hogwarts arrived yet?!"

"Yes, it has, Mavis," her mother replied with a gentle smile.

The girl—Mavis—beamed with joy as she clutched the letter in her hands, her eyes sparkling.

Though her appearance resembled Mirabel, the emotions she displayed were entirely different, something Mirabel could never show.

Clinging to the letter like a treasure, Mavis spoke with delight.

"Mom, I'm going to be in Ravenclaw! That's where all the smart kids go, right?"

"Yes, I'm sure you'll fit right in."

"And then, I'll find someone wonderful, fall in love just like in a fairy tale, and when I have children, I'll be a mom as amazing as you! I'll give them so much love, and we'll be the happiest family ever!"

"Oh my, aren't you getting ahead of yourself? You're such a precocious little one, Mavis," her mother chuckled warmly.

The floor beneath Dumbledore vanished, and the scenery around him shifted.

Now, he stood in Hogwarts' Great Hall.

The room was filled with students, all gathered to witness the Sorting Ceremony for the first-years.

Among them, Mavis waited anxiously for her turn, her heart pounding with excitement.

As names of past students, now graduated, were read out one by one, they each made their way to sit at the tables of their respective houses.

Among them, Mavis briefly locked eyes with a boy heading toward the Slytherin table.

He had slicked-back silver hair and sharp, piercing eyes.

His gaze, brimming with unshakable confidence and disdain for all around him, inexplicably held Mavis's attention.

"Mackenzie, Mavis!"

At the sound of her name, Mavis walked up and sat in the chair, the Sorting Hat placed atop her head.

The hat seemed to ponder for a few seconds, humming as if deep in thought.

At last, it declared loudly the house to which Mavis would belong.

"Ravenclaw!"

Amidst the applause and cheers from the upperclassmen, Mavis ran to join the Ravenclaw table, her face glowing with excitement and anticipation for the amazing school life that awaited her.

The scene shifted again.

This time, Dumbledore found himself in a new and modern-looking living room, much fresher than the one in the Beresford estate he had seen before.

Looking around, he spotted a younger Mavis Beresford seated at the table. Across from her sat another woman.

The woman was thin, dressed in garishly adorned clothes covered in sequins, and accessorized with numerous bracelets and rings. Her oversized glasses gave her the appearance of a glittering giant dragonfly.

Sybill Trelawney.

The Divination professor at Hogwarts—and, in a way, the one responsible for setting everything in motion.

The chain of events tying Harry and Voldemort together had begun with her prophecy, which ultimately led to James and Lily's deaths.

Seeing her here, Dumbledore couldn't help but feel a sense of inevitability.

Of course she's here.

It was almost a certainty that following Mavis's memories would eventually lead to Trelawney.

After all, it seemed impossible for someone as pivotal as this seer—whose prophecies had shaped the magical world so profoundly—not to have some connection to Mirabel, who was now causing such upheaval.

Dumbledore had always suspected that Trelawney's prophecies were guided unconsciously by fate itself. She would unknowingly find herself in the right place, encounter the right person, and deliver a prophecy destined to shape the future.

"Well, it seems you've secured a teaching position at Hogwarts," Trelawney said.

"And I hear the same about you. Durmstrang, wasn't it?"

The two conversed like old friends.

It was no surprise—they had been classmates at Hogwarts and had shared similar ambitions of becoming educators.

Now, both had achieved their goals, and this meeting was an occasion to celebrate each other's success.

"I hear you've had a child as well. How lovely! I'm so envious," Trelawney remarked.

Unlike her usual mystic, ethereal tone, Trelawney now spoke naturally.

There was no need to maintain her image in front of an old friend who knew her true self.

If she always spoke this way, Dumbledore mused, perhaps she would have been more popular among her students.

But before the moment of peace could continue, something unexpected occurred.

Trelawney suddenly arched backward, her eyes rolling white as she stood.

"S-Sybill?"

"…When the moon of Libra is guarded by Venus, a devil shall be born.

The scales held by the devil may tilt toward salvation—or toward ruin."

Her voice, deep and masculine, bore no resemblance to her usual tone.

It's here.

Dumbledore braced himself, knowing he could not afford to miss a single word.

This prophecy would undoubtedly contain words that could shape the future of the magical world.

Unfortunate, then, that Mavis had been the only witness to it.

Because of this, the prophecy was never recorded in the Department of Mysteries.

"The devil shall find its counterpart, an angel who completes the scales.

The scales must not lose their angel.

If the angel is taken from the devil, the scales will tip toward ruin, and the fixed future will unravel.

Even if the hands of the clock are turned back, once the scales tilt, they will never return."

The phrase "an angel who completes the scales" immediately brought to Dumbledore's mind Edith, the student who was always by Mirabel's side.

But no, the prophecy likely wasn't referring to her.

Despite Edith's constant presence, Mirabel had chosen a path of destruction.

So, who was it?

Who could have stopped Mirabel?

Who could have guided her talent toward salvation instead of ruin?

The scene shifted once more.

This time, it was Heathcote's study.

Facing each other in the room were Mavis and her husband, Heathcote.

Mavis appeared troubled, while Heathcote sat emotionlessly in his chair.

The topic of their conversation was their beloved daughter.

"Mirabel has been smiling a lot more lately," Heathcote remarked.

"Yes, she has," Mavis replied softly.

A child smiling more often would normally be a good thing—in an ordinary family.

But this was the cursed Beresford bloodline, where power was everything.

Here, normal rules did not apply.

"She's been led astray by that little Muggle girl... Truly a troublesome child.

But it's a parent's duty to correct their child's mistakes. The obstacle must be removed swiftly."

Heathcote spoke these words as he sipped his wine.

Mavis, however, seemed reluctant.

"...Are you truly going to do it?" she asked.

"Yes. I've already informed Umbridge and Fudge."

"But... won't this make her sad?"

There had been a time when Mavis dreamed of a brighter future.

She had envisioned a happy family, one filled with love—just like the one her mother had lovingly created for her.

But now, that dream was nothing more than a distant memory.

Perhaps it had begun to unravel the moment she gave her heart to Heathcote and chose to walk beside him.

Unknowingly, she had become a parent who robbed her child of smiles rather than nurturing happiness.

This was Mavis's torment, compounded by her inability to stand up to her husband.

"That's irrelevant," Heathcote said coldly. "The priority now is to rid Mirabel of the parasite clinging to her.

Our daughter possesses the talent of a ruler—not just parental bias, but a natural genius that surpasses even Dumbledore.

You know as well as I do that her potential is rotting because of that influence."

"Yes... Leticia Valentine," Mavis whispered.

"Exactly. A filthy half-blood girl of unknown origin, leading Mirabel astray.

She's ruining the masterpiece we poured our everything into raising."

A masterpiece.

Heathcote spoke of their child with no hesitation.

To him, it was the highest form of praise and his twisted version of love—one incomprehensible to most.

But that love would never bring happiness to their child.

Born and raised in a warped household, Heathcote himself had grown to be just as unbalanced as his predecessors.

"This will be handled as if it were the unauthorized act of a Dementor.

Those creatures are already reviled, and no one will question the disappearance of one Muggle girl.

They're quite convenient in situations like these."

Mavis remained silent.

"Leticia Valentine Grostest... She is unnecessary.

Even as a ghost, I won't allow her near Mirabel.

Her soul will be destroyed entirely."

The memory journey came to an end, and Dumbledore quietly regarded Mavis.

Mavis, sensing his gaze, recoiled in fear, her beautiful features contorted.

She had received the prophecy.

If she had stopped her husband back then, perhaps fate might have been altered.

The guilt weighed heavily on her, and she now trembled like a criminal awaiting judgment.

But Dumbledore, ever gentle, spoke to her with kindness.

"You were brave to share this with me."

"P-Professor Dumbledore... I... I was a fool.

I twisted her—my daughter.

That's why she wanted to leave me to die... just as I once did to her..."

"It's enough. You've suffered enough."

Loving someone doesn't guarantee that love will be understood.

When that love is twisted, it's even less likely to be recognized.

As someone who deeply believed in the power of love, Dumbledore felt pain at the disconnect between parent and child.

The true fool was Heathcote.

He was the root of all the distortion.

(Leticia Grostest...)

It seemed the key lay in that name.

Resolved to uncover the truth, Dumbledore left the room quietly.

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