Wizard World and the Ambitious Girl

Author's Note: Good evening, everyone. I've been reading through various Harry Potter fanfictions lately, and I've noticed surprisingly few protagonists belong to Gryffindor, most seem to favor Slytherin. Well done, Voldemort! You're certainly gaining allies!

---

"What a dreadful experience that was," Dumbledore remarked, brushing dust from his midnight-blue robes with casual indifference. "The gates were sealed tight, and Devil's Snare clung to everything, quite sticky on the soles of one's shoes, I must say. Peeves was his usual unhelpful self, blocking doorways and causing general mayhem. And that three-headed dog of Hagrid's? Completely tone-deaf to music. To top it all off, some rather aggressive birds decided my spectacles made excellent target practice."

The old wizard spoke as though recounting a minor inconvenience from his morning walk, yet the content of his words was anything but trivial. Even Quirrell, a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, had hesitated and strategized extensively before attempting to bypass Fluffy. This ancient headmaster had strolled through the defenses as if they were mere garden obstacles.

Mirabelle's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. The casual dismissal of barriers that had taken her considerable effort to navigate stung more than she cared to admit.

"Mirabelle," Dumbledore continued, his piercing blue eyes settling on her with uncomfortable intensity, "might I inquire what you intended to do with the Stone?"

"That's rather presumptuous of you," she replied, her voice steady despite the thundering of her pulse. "I simply prevented it from falling into that person's hands."

It wasn't technically a lie. She had indeed kept the Stone from Voldemort's grasp, an indisputable fact. The detail about her subsequent plans to pocket it herself seemed less relevant to mention.

Dumbledore's expression remained maddeningly serene, untouched by her brazen deflection. "Ah, Mirabelle... even cats may wear masks, but I've long known you harbor no fear of Voldemort."

The name hung in the air between them like a challenge. Mirabelle felt something cold settle in her stomach, not fear, but the uncomfortable realization that her carefully maintained facades might be more transparent than she'd believed.

"I see," she said slowly, abandoning pretense. "Then let's call him Voldemort."

She couldn't recall ever speaking the Dark Lord's name in front of faculty or students, yet somehow Dumbledore knew. The old man's knowledge ran deeper than surface observations, a troubling revelation that shifted the power dynamic of their confrontation.

As they spoke, Mirabelle's mind raced through escape scenarios. Apparition remained an option, though she doubted she could Disapparate faster than Dumbledore could cast. A Killing Curse might work, but something about the headmaster's relaxed confidence suggested such direct attacks would prove futile. There was an otherworldly quality to his presence, as if he existed slightly apart from normal magical constraints.

"So," Dumbledore said, stroking his silver beard thoughtfully, "you protected the Stone from Voldemort. How wonderfully noble of you. Now, might I ask about your reasoning for sealing those passages with such... creative traps?"

Mirabelle straightened, drawing on every lesson in political maneuvering her upbringing had provided. "Death Eaters rarely work alone. Quirrell might have had reinforcements waiting. Surely you understand the wisdom of tactical preparation when facing unknown numbers?"

"Indeed. Quite clever." Dumbledore nodded approvingly. "And the sealed castle gates? That was similarly strategic thinking?"

"I heard the headmaster wouldn't return for some time." The words carried just the right note of innocent assumption. "Given the circumstances, additional security seemed prudent."

Dumbledore had deliberately spread word of his absence to lure Quirrell into action, a trap within a trap. But Mirabelle had turned that deception to her advantage, using the supposed absence to justify her own preparations. The irony wasn't lost on either of them.

Those brilliant blue eyes continued their unsettling examination, as if attempting to peer directly into her soul. Mirabelle met his gaze steadily, absolutely confident in her Occlumency barriers. Whatever Dumbledore thought he might find in her mind, he would discover only what she chose to reveal.

"And then you planned to slip it into your own pocket?"

The directness of the question caught her off-guard for a fraction of a second, long enough for Dumbledore to notice, she suspected.

"It would be dishonest to claim I felt no temptation," she admitted carefully. Outright lies would be foolish here; Dumbledore had already demonstrated uncomfortable insight into her motivations. "The Stone offers immortality, what rational person wouldn't consider its possibilities?"

To her surprise, Dumbledore's expression darkened. He shook his head with what appeared to be genuine sorrow, one weathered hand rising to cover his eyes.

"How foolish... how tragically foolish. The Stone is not the blessing you imagine, child. You may not understand this yet, but what value is there in a life that simply... continues? What meaning can be found in existence without natural conclusion?"

"Eternity is foolish?" Mirabelle couldn't quite mask her incredulity.

"Yes, though most humans desperately desire it. The trouble is, people have an unfortunate tendency to crave precisely what will destroy them."

Something in Dumbledore's tone made Mirabelle's skin prickle with unease. His certainty felt too personal, too specific. Most philosophical declarations about human nature came from observation or theory. This sounded like bitter experience.

"I see," she said slowly, studying his expression for tells. "So you believe eternal life is humanity's greatest mistake."

"Indeed."

"Is that what you wanted too?"

For the first time in their conversation, genuine surprise flickered across Dumbledore's features. His eyes widened fractionally, such a small reaction that anyone less observant might have missed it entirely.

Mirabelle felt a surge of cold satisfaction. Gotcha.

"So it's true," she pressed, sensing weakness. "You once sought something related to conquering death. That's why you speak with such authority about desire and destruction."

The pain that crossed Dumbledore's face confirmed everything. This wasn't academic philosophy, it was personal history written in regret and loss.

"Humans desire what will destroy them," he had said. If that was true, then he too had once yearned for something that brought only suffering. The knowledge explained his weary certainty, his tendency to speak of temptation as inevitable tragedy.

"You don't deny it," Mirabelle observed.

"What would you have me say?" Dumbledore's voice carried decades of exhaustion.

In that moment, she understood why he recognized her ambition so clearly. It takes one to know one, after all. Whatever Dumbledore had pursued in his youth, whatever he had lost in that pursuit, had left scars that shaped his every interaction with power-hungry students.

"A terrible girl," Dumbledore murmured, though whether to himself or her remained unclear. "No matter how carefully one constructs facades, you step through them as if they were spider webs. You pry open every guard and cut straight to the heart of things."

He paused, studying her with something approaching recognition.

"Perhaps it's because we are so similar. That's why you see through the pretense so easily."

The admission hung between them like a confession. Mirabelle felt an unexpected chill—not fear, but the unsettling realization that Dumbledore understood her far better than she'd assumed.

"Mirabelle," he said gently, "you must not pursue anything that defies the natural laws of life and death. Such paths lead only to misery."

She remained silent, weighing her options.

"You are still young, blessed with exceptional leadership abilities and remarkable talent. If you channel that power appropriately, you could become a greater witch than any who came before you."

While Mirabelle possessed an eerie ability to read Dumbledore's deeper motivations, he demonstrated equal skill in recognizing her inner drives. Her mastery of Occlumency after only one year was impressive, but it hardly mattered when he could deduce her thoughts through pure understanding.

She reminded him too strongly of his younger self, the fool who had dreamed of Muggle subjugation alongside Grindelwald. The idealistic boy who believed the world would improve if only superior wizards could rule over the non-magical masses.

"Now then," Dumbledore said, extending one long-fingered hand, "please give me the Stone. It will bring you nothing but unhappiness, never joy."

Mirabelle stared at him for a long moment, fury and pragmatism warring in her chest. Fighting now would be pointless; she'd already revealed too many capabilities, and Dumbledore had demonstrated power that made direct confrontation inadvisable.

She had miscalculated badly, underestimated her opponent's strength and overestimated her own preparation. The sting of that realization was almost worse than the defeat itself.

"Fine." The word tasted like ash in her mouth.

She tossed the crimson Stone toward Dumbledore, who caught it with casual grace and immediately pointed his wand at the precious artifact.

"Bombarda Maxima!" he cried without hesitation. "Reducto Totalus!"

Brilliant light erupted from his wand tip, striking the Philosopher's Stone with devastating force. The legendary artifact, source of immortality and infinite wealth, shattered into countless fragments that scattered across the floor like drops of crystallized blood. Nearby rats fled in panic from the magical discharge, their squeaks echoing off stone walls.

Dumbledore summoned a controlled whirlwind that gathered every visible piece into a neat pile, which he then incinerated with careful thoroughness.

"Off you go," he said mildly. "I'll see to Harry."

"Yes. Until next time."

Despite the bitter taste of defeat, this encounter had provided valuable intelligence about both Dumbledore's true capabilities and her own blind spots. Knowledge was power, and power could be leveraged if one remained patient.

Was his lenient treatment mercy, or did he simply not consider her enough of a threat to warrant serious consequences? The question would gnaw at her, but answers would have to wait.

Mirabelle swept her emerald-and-silver robes around herself and strode past Dumbledore toward the stairs, spine straight and dignity intact despite the humiliation burning in her chest.

"Mirabelle," his voice followed her, soft but carrying clearly in the chamber. "Remember this: ambition without wisdom leads nowhere good. Please don't forget that lesson."

"I'll keep it in mind," she replied without turning back.

As they passed each other on the narrow staircase, doubt flickered through Dumbledore's mind like shadow across flame. Should I end this threat now, while I still can?

In hindsight, Mirabelle's actions didn't warrant expulsion or worse. She hadn't committed murder like young Tom Riddle, nor had she kept dangerous creatures like Hagrid. Yes, attempted theft was criminal, but throughout Hogwarts' long history, dozens of students had succumbed to temptation and stolen school property or personal belongings. Teachers dealt with such incidents through punishment and reformation, not destruction.

If theft warranted expulsion, James Potter would have been removed ten times over during his Hogwarts career.

But regardless of precedent, Mirabelle was dangerous in ways that transcended the magnitude of individual crimes. She possessed the potential to become something truly terrible, and that potential seemed to grow stronger rather than weaker under guidance.

She had listened to his warnings, but Dumbledore knew her ambition remained undiminished. If anything, this setback would only fuel her determination to succeed through more careful planning.

Shouldn't I crush this evil before it fully takes root?

---

[Power stones and reviews please]

Support link: www.patr eon.com/Well_being

[10 Advanced Chs][7 Chapters/week]