Wizard World and the Ambitious Girl

On the express train to Hogwarts, Mirabelle nestled into her seat, absorbed in her book as the rhythmic clacking of wheels against tracks lulled her into comfortable focus. The leather-bound volume in her hands was "A Great Voyage with a Vampire" by Lockhart, a tale of the supposedly heroic author traveling the world aboard a ship with a mysterious vampire companion.

Of course, Mirabelle possessed the "knowledge" that revealed the truth: the protagonist wasn't actually Lockhart at all, but some unfortunate soul whose memories had been ruthlessly erased and stolen. Still, if she ignored that unsettling reality and read it purely as fiction, the story proved surprisingly entertaining. There were passages that seemed purely imagined, others that were clearly embellished to make the author appear more dashing, and sections that lacked proper description altogether. But then again, most stories suffered from such flaws.

The soft whisper of a compartment door sliding open interrupted her reading, followed by a tentative female voice.

"Excuse me, is this seat taken?"

"No," Mirabelle replied curtly, not lifting her eyes from the page.

"Thank you. Though it's strange... why was this entire compartment empty?"

Mirabelle turned the page with deliberate slowness, sensing two students settling into the seats across from her. As long as they didn't disturb her reading, she had no interest in who they were or what they wanted.

Unfortunately, it seemed they had no intention of leaving her in peace. A different voice, sharper and more entitled, cut through the comfortable silence.

"Hey, you're not some mudblood like Granger, so why don't you look up from that book and show some manners? Surely you can manage a simple greeting?"

"Wait, Millicent..." the first voice whispered urgently. "Could this person be...?"

"Since we're sharing a compartment, we should at least introduce ourselves properly, don't you think?"

The speaker appeared to be the student called Millicent, a girl who seemed quite comfortable voicing her opinions without consideration for consequences. Mirabelle sighed inwardly, recognizing that she had no choice but to acknowledge them. She closed the book with a soft thud and placed it carefully on her lap, finally raising her head.

Both girls gasped in unison and stumbled backward, their faces draining of color.

It seemed her identity had been concealed by the book until that moment.

"M-Mirabelle Beresford?!" Millicent stammered.

"Oh no, I knew something felt off about finding an empty compartment!" the other girl squeaked.

There wasn't a single student at Hogwarts who didn't know Mirabelle's name by now. She was Slytherin's top student, widely regarded as the most beautiful girl in school, and possessed an presence that seemed far too mature and intimidating for someone her age. The overwhelming aura she had displayed during the Halloween incident remained fresh in every student's memory, burned into their minds with a mixture of awe and terror.

Within Slytherin House, feelings toward her could be categorized into three distinct groups: genuine respect, fanatical devotion, and paralyzing fear.

Some students truly admired her overwhelming abilities and commanding presence. Others had become completely enchanted, believing with zealous conviction that she was destined to lead Slytherin to greatness. And then there were those who feared her excessive power and her apparent lack of concern for hiding her more dangerous qualities.

These two girls clearly belonged to the third category.

"S-sorry! We'll just—" they began, pivoting toward the door.

"Wait."

Too late. They had wandered into the predator's den, and now there was no escape. Before either girl could take another step, Mirabelle's hand shot out and grabbed the edge of Millicent's robes, forcibly dragging both students back into the compartment and pushing them into their seats.

Despite Millicent being fairly tall for a girl her age, her height meant absolutely nothing when faced with Mirabelle's strength. Beneath her elegant appearance, Mirabelle possessed physical power that surpassed most of the weaker boys in their year.

"How incredibly rude, running away the moment you see my face," Mirabelle said, her voice carrying a dangerous edge. "Do I look like some sort of monster to you?"

"N-no, I'd actually prefer a real monster..." Millicent muttered under her breath.

"Shut up, Millicent!" the other girl hissed frantically. "Do you want to make things worse?"

The second student had a somewhat flattened, pug-like face that made her panic even more pronounced. It was clear that both girls were absolutely terrified of Mirabelle, though their fear seemed excessive. As long as they weren't deliberately insulting, she had no intention of actually harming them. But they didn't seem to understand that.

The way the pug-faced girl's expression shifted between terror and nervous energy actually reminded Mirabelle of a real pug, and she found it oddly endearing in its pathetic sincerity.

"I'm not going to devour you or anything equally dramatic, so please calm down," Mirabelle said, allowing a hint of amusement to color her tone. "As you apparently already know, I'm Mirabelle Beresford, second-year Slytherin. And you are?"

"M-Millicent Bulstrode... also second-year Slytherin..." the taller girl managed.

"Pansy Parkinson. Second-year as well," the pug-faced girl added quickly.

Millicent and Pansy... both names existed within her "knowledge," though she couldn't quite recall their specific roles or importance. They were probably minor characters, much like Malfoy's typical hangers-on.

"Bulstrode and Parkinson," Mirabelle repeated thoughtfully. "Now, I couldn't help but overhear something about 'mudblood' earlier..."

"No, no! That wasn't directed at you!" Pansy burst out desperately. "We were talking about Hermione Granger!"

"Y-yes! Even Millicent wouldn't be stupid enough to say something like that to you!" Pansy added.

Both girls scrambled to explain themselves, but Mirabelle had already understood that much. She'd clearly heard Granger's name mentioned first, and in terms of bloodline purity, few families could rival the Beresfords' ancient lineage.

"I know that," Mirabelle said calmly. "I'm asking about Hermione Granger specifically."

"Granger?" Millicent blinked in confusion.

"Tell me, what exactly do you mean when you use the term 'mudblood'?"

The word "mudblood" was considered the most vicious slur in the wizarding world, a taboo that most people avoided even speaking aloud. It was roughly equivalent to the most offensive racial slurs in the Muggle world. Therefore, most Hogwarts students were careful never to use such language, with the notable exception of certain Slytherin students.

Hermione, being Muggle-born but academically exceptional, was a particularly frequent target of such insults. Mirabelle had overheard Slytherin students using the term behind Hermione's back on several occasions, and it never failed to disgust her.

"Well, obviously it's because Muggles have... impure blood..." Millicent stammered.

"I see. And why exactly is Muggle blood considered impure?"

"Because... because Muggles can't use magic like we can, and they're not chosen..." Pansy offered weakly.

"So if Granger, who is Muggle-born but excels at magic, appears to be quite 'chosen' indeed, how do you reconcile that contradiction?"

"Um... well... that's..." Pansy floundered, unable to form a coherent response.

Mirabelle sighed softly, her expression growing genuinely sad. She was beginning to understand the true scope of the problem.

"In other words, you don't really understand what you're saying at all, do you?"

"...No," Pansy admitted quietly.

"So these are simply borrowed ideas that you're repeating mindlessly, like parrots, because that's what others say or because your parents taught you to think this way?"

Mirabelle's eyes dimmed with disappointment as she contemplated the deeply rooted nature of blood purity ideology that infected the entire wizarding world. Even children like these casually threw around hateful slurs without understanding their true meaning or implications.

How many generations would it take to completely eradicate such thinking?

That prejudice runs deeper than I thought, she mused silently. Even if I were to seize control of the wizarding world tomorrow, it might take decades to truly change people's fundamental beliefs.

The realization of just how entrenched and problematic pure-blood ideology had become settled over Mirabelle like a heavy cloak. Suddenly, both Millicent and Pansy were staring at her with curious expressions, as if they wanted to ask something but weren't sure if they dared.

"What is it?" Mirabelle prompted.

"Um, Miss Beresford... don't you think Muggles are... you know... inferior?" Pansy asked hesitantly.

"I don't particularly care about blood status," Mirabelle replied matter-of-factly. "What matters to me is whether someone is useful or not."

She kept her explanation brief and neutral. There was no point in elaborating further—their fundamental ideologies were completely incompatible.

In truth, pure-blood supremacists like these two were simply obstacles to be removed when she eventually took control of the magical world. They would be nothing more than diseased branches to be pruned away when the time came for purification.

All rotten elements had to be cut away, every source of corruption excised completely. Only then could a path to her new world truly open.

For now, she would start with Salazar Slytherin himself, the original source of this poisonous ideology and his worthless legacy. The Basilisk, that serpent left behind in the Chamber of Secrets specifically to murder Muggle-born students, had no place in the world she intended to create.

She would crush Slytherin's creation utterly, leaving not even fragments behind, and destroy his hateful philosophy along with it. How deliciously ironic it would be, a Slytherin student completely dismantling everything Slytherin represented.

For just a moment, Mirabelle's lips curved into a predatory smile.

•~•

The Sorting Feast

At this year's first-year Sorting Ceremony, Sydney Beresford attracted more attention than any other new student. She possessed beautiful silver hair that cascaded down to her waist like liquid moonlight, and eyes as bright and clear as a cloudless summer sky. Her androgynous beauty was so striking that she could easily be mistaken for an ethereal young maiden, but the primary reason for her popularity was undoubtedly the presence of her infamous older sister.

After all, Mirabelle was the student who had suddenly unleashed such an intimidating aura during last year's Sorting that she'd silenced the entire Great Hall, and who had later commanded every Slytherin with a single glance during the troll incident. Her reputation for dramatic and unsettling behavior preceded her younger sibling.

With such a sister, Sydney's arrival was bound to draw intense scrutiny.

Most students had naturally assumed that Sydney would follow in Mirabelle's footsteps and be Sorted into Slytherin House. The surprise, and collective relief, was palpable when the Sorting Hat instead announced "Hufflepuff!"

The majority of students breathed easier at this development. At least it proved that Sydney wasn't likely to be as extreme or dangerous as her sister.

Once the Sorting concluded, the Welcome Feast began in earnest. Countless dishes appeared across the house tables as students chattered excitedly about their hopes and anxieties for the new school year.

The undisputed center of attention was Gilderoy Lockhart, the newly appointed Defense Against the Dark Arts professor. The man seemed to have acquired quite a substantial fan following, approximately sixty percent of the female student body appeared to be thoroughly enchanted by his presence.

Slytherin House proved no exception to Lockhart's charm offensive.

"Professor Lockhart..." sighed a girl named Reinagle, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "I never imagined that an actual published author would become our teacher. I'm already feeling quite thrilled."

"Oh my, Reinagle, are you a Lockhart admirer too?" asked another student teasingly.

"Well, perhaps not quite as much as Millicent over there," Reinagle admitted with a laugh. "I suppose I think of him more as the protagonist of an adventure story. It's almost surreal that I'll actually get to meet him, his exploits are so incredible they hardly seem real..."

While listening to this conversation, Mirabelle selected a sandwich from the array of food before her. The sandwich, that quintessentially British invention, had become one of the world's most beloved foods. This simple yet versatile creation, bread with various fillings, could now be found across the globe, with endless regional variations.

Mirabelle first chose a chicken sandwich and took a delicate bite. The soft bread mellowed the slightly strong flavor of the seasoned chicken, creating a harmonious blend of tastes. The beauty of sandwiches lay in their adaptability, almost any combination of ingredients could be made to taste reasonably good. However, Mirabelle personally preferred sandwiches with a balanced mix of meat and vegetables, finding them the most satisfying and easy to eat.

If she had one complaint about British sandwiches, it was that the bread was invariably too hard and crusty for her taste. She much preferred the softer varieties popular in other countries, particularly the pillowy textures favored in places like Japan.

"Hmm. You may be quite right about that, Reinagle," Mirabelle said thoughtfully.

"I'm sorry?"

"About the protagonist Lockhart from his books not existing in reality. That character is essentially fictional, a heavily embellished and romanticized version modeled on Lockhart himself, but filled with exaggeration and outright invention."

"But surely Professor Lockhart is real, and he must have written about his own genuine experiences?" Reinagle protested.

"That's precisely why I mentioned exaggeration," Mirabelle replied with a knowing smile. "Well, I'm sure he'll prove my point quite clearly once classes begin."

She bit into a bacon and lettuce sandwich on French bread, chewing thoughtfully. The taste wasn't unpleasant, but it certainly wasn't to her preference either.

There were other sandwich options available, but most were stuffed with excessive amounts of meat or unnecessary dollops of whipped cream that made them seem more like desserts than proper food.

"By the way, changing the subject entirely," Reinagle said, glancing toward the Hufflepuff table, "isn't that Sydney fellow Mirabelle's younger brother?"

"Yes."

"How is that even fair? Both siblings being so extraordinarily attractive... is everyone in your family like that?"

"Not particularly," Mirabelle answered honestly. "Sydney and I inherited our mother's features, but our older brother Simon takes after our father and has much more severe, masculine features."

Indeed, Simon Beresford looked nothing like his elegant younger siblings. He possessed a strongly built frame and harsh facial structure that made him appear somewhat intimidating, possibly even villainous to those who didn't know him.

In reality, however, he was the most gentle and emotionally sensitive member of the entire Beresford family. Appearances could certainly be deceiving.

Mirabelle, of course, was by far the most ruthless, calculating, and shameless of the three siblings.

"What about your family, Reinagle?" Mirabelle asked politely.

"Me? I'm an only child, so it's difficult to say... though I suppose if you had a family as large as the Weasleys, there would be plenty of basis for comparison."

"The Weasleys..." Mirabelle mused. "Speaking of which, I've heard rumors that their youngest son somehow managed to crash a flying car into the Whomping Willow."

"Oh yes, and Harry Potter was with him too! Malfoy has been practically dancing with glee, going around telling everyone 'Now they'll definitely be expelled!'"

The rumor had spread throughout the school like wildfire, though no one seemed certain of its origin. It was now common knowledge that Harry Potter and his friend had somehow arrived at school in a flying automobile.

Under normal circumstances, such a flagrant violation of wizarding secrecy laws would indeed warrant immediate expulsion. It was such an outrageously dangerous and illegal act that expulsion would be the only reasonable response.

If any other student, say, someone like Reinagle, had committed the same offense, they would undoubtedly be packing their belongings that very evening.

But this was Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, hero of the wizarding world, and quite clearly Dumbledore's most treasured student. While he would likely face some form of punishment, both he and his friend would almost certainly be forgiven.

"What do you think will happen?" Reinagle asked curiously.

"Ten Galleons says they'll be acquitted completely," Mirabelle replied without hesitation. "And you?"

"If they attend classes tomorrow without any issues, I owe you ten Galleons."

"Hardly worth gambling on, really."

In the end, it seemed that only Malfoy genuinely believed Harry would be expelled. Most students simply assumed that the famous boy would be pardoned, and they were undoubtedly correct.

Such was the power of the "Boy Who Lived" reputation. If Hogwarts actually expelled Harry Potter, the school would be flooded with outraged letters from wizarding families across Britain, and Dumbledore's office would be buried under an avalanche of Howlers.

Even if Harry had ignored wizarding law, stolen a car, been spotted by several Muggles, and then crashed spectacularly into one of the school's most dangerous trees, none of that would diminish his status as the savior of the wizarding world.

After finishing their dessert, a traditional treacle tart that was almost sickeningly sweet, the students made their way to the Slytherin dormitory, following the lead of the older students.

The underground common room remained as dimly atmospheric as ever, but Mirabelle had grown to appreciate its brooding elegance over time. The green-tinted light filtering through the lake waters above cast everything in an otherworldly glow that suited her temperament perfectly.

As she surveyed the familiar space, Reinagle approached and tapped her gently on the shoulder, offering a genuine smile.

"I look forward to another year together, Mirabelle."

"...Yes. Likewise, Reinagle."

This arrangement wasn't entirely unpleasant, Mirabelle reflected. For the first time in a while, she found herself returning Edith's smile with one that was neither calculated nor mocking, a rare moment of genuine warmth.

---

[Power stones and reviews please]

Support link: www.patr eon.com/Well_being

[10 Advanced Chs][7 Chapters/week]