Wizard World and the Ambitious Girl

After finishing her conversation with her parents, Mirabelle ascended to her second-floor bedroom and locked the door behind her with a soft click. The room's interior was surprisingly understated—elegant rather than ostentatious. While Mirabelle generally favored flashy displays, she had carefully curated her private space to avoid appearing nouveau riche. Still, her natural temperament couldn't be completely hidden; upon closer inspection, gold accents and discreet jewels adorned various surfaces throughout the room, catching the lamplight like hidden secrets.

"Holger, are you there?" she called softly into the seemingly empty room.

"Here, my lady." A low, gravelly voice emerged from the fireplace.

He had been waiting in the chimney during her family's floo network conversation, likely anticipating her summons. As if materializing from shadow itself, Holger dropped silently from the fireplace and knelt before his mistress with practiced grace.

"I have a task for you." Mirabelle withdrew a folded parchment from her robes and tossed it to him with casual authority.

The paper contained an extensive list: rare potions ingredients, body parts from dangerous magical creatures, and several items that would raise eyebrows at the Ministry. Some were outright illegal to possess. Holger's eyes narrowed as he scanned the forbidden contents.

"I need everything on that list within three and a half years," she stated matter-of-factly.

"Three and a half years," Holger repeated, not questioning whether it was possible, but confirming the timeline.

"Precisely. You can manage it, can't you?"

The phrasing wasn't truly a question, it was an expectation wrapped in courtesy. Holger nodded without hesitation. If his mistress required it, he would obtain these items regardless of the obstacles. Such unwavering loyalty was his pride when serving someone as brilliantly dangerous as Mirabelle.

"My lady, I have something for you as well." Holger reached into his robes and produced what appeared to be a miniature display cabinet, no larger than a child's toy.

To most, it would seem like an oddity, but Mirabelle understood its significance immediately. After all, she had commissioned its acquisition.

"One of the few remaining in existence," Holger explained with quiet satisfaction.

"Perfect work, as always." Mirabelle's lips curved into an appreciative smile.

The true value of this seemingly innocent object lay in its compatibility with two specific spells: Reducio and Engorgio. Currently shrunk to toy size, its real identity was a Vanishing Cabinet—a magical transportation device that could move objects across vast distances.

During Voldemort's reign of terror, these cabinets had been treasured as emergency escape routes from Death Eaters. Now, fourteen years after the Dark Lord's fall, very few remained functional.

The operation was elegantly simple: enlarge the cabinet with Engorgio, and it could transport items, or people, across any distance, even into Hogwarts where Apparition was supposedly impossible. Unlike the Ministry's floo network, these cabinets followed their own ancient pathways, making them virtually untraceable.

"But why do you need such a device? You can already Apparate without detection," Holger inquired carefully.

"True enough." Mirabelle examined the miniature cabinet with interest. "Hogwarts' anti-Apparition wards aren't as absolute as people believe. They're designed specifically to prevent magic used by humans, but house-elf magic operates on different principles entirely."

Under Holger's tutelage, Mirabelle had been mastering wandless magic—the same type of magic that allowed house-elves to bypass many wizarding protections. This gave her unprecedented mobility within the school's supposedly secure walls.

"However, my house-elf magic remains incomplete," she admitted with rare vulnerability. "I can transport myself easily enough, but bringing others requires more traditional methods."

"Insurance, then?"

"Precisely."

Despite her genius, Mirabelle recognized her human limitations. Even Dumbledore and Voldemort had never mastered house-elf magic to this degree—her achievement was already miraculous. But miracles had boundaries.

Without her wand, Mirabelle's Apparition could only transport herself, and more complex spells like Fiendfyre required significant preparation time. If she intended to stand against Voldemort eventually, she would need to transcend typical human magical limitations.

•~•

The weeks following the Christmas holidays passed in relative tranquility. Gryffindor defeated Hufflepuff in Quidditch—a routine inter-house competition that barely registered in Mirabelle's consciousness. Professor Snape continued his obvious favoritism toward Slytherin, which Mirabelle exploited shamelessly to accumulate house points. Her personal tally had already exceeded seventy points, creating an increasingly insurmountable lead.

She had already returned the restricted books to the library, simply placing them in strategic locations where they would be discovered naturally. The Christmas break intrusion by a certain Gryffindor had provided perfect cover, suspicion naturally fell on that mysterious trespasser rather than Mirabelle, who had been safely at home throughout the holidays.

This peaceful routine shattered one morning when Mirabelle and Edith encountered a crowd of excited students gathered in the corridor.

"What's all the commotion?" Mirabelle asked a nearby Slytherin, though her tone suggested mild boredom rather than genuine curiosity.

"Miss Beresford!" the student exclaimed with barely contained glee. "Wonderful news—the famous Harry Potter just lost Gryffindor one hundred and fifty points!"

"One hundred and fifty?" Edith gasped, while Mirabelle's expression remained carefully neutral.

The details came flooding back, an incident involving Hagrid's illegal dragon-keeping, Harry and Hermione's midnight attempt to help, and Neville's unfortunate timing. All three had been caught by Professor McGonagall and Filch, resulting in the massive point deduction.

The irony wasn't lost on Mirabelle: Hagrid's reckless hobby had endangered the students who tried to help him. Had they done nothing, the half-giant would likely have faced Azkaban for violating the ban on dragon-breeding. Their intervention had saved Hagrid while damning their house standings.

"This guarantees Slytherin's victory in the House Cup!" the student continued enthusiastically.

"Perhaps," Mirabelle replied with calculated disinterest before walking away, Edith hurrying to catch up.

Truthfully, Potter's point loss meant nothing to her—the end-of-year examinations deserved more attention than house politics. But this incident signaled that Quirrell's endgame was approaching. If memory served, he would make his move the day after exams concluded, when Dumbledore would be conveniently absent.

Her only concern was that this punishment might discourage Harry and his friends from future nocturnal adventures.

I hope Potter doesn't lose his nerve because of this setback, she mused.

Mirabelle could reach the Philosopher's Stone herself if necessary. She remembered the three-headed dog's weaknesses and the subsequent challenges protecting the Stone. The real obstacle was Dumbledore's final protection—the Mirror of Erised, which would only yield the Stone to someone who wanted to find it, not use it.

Unfortunately, Mirabelle definitely fell into the latter category. The mirror's enchantment made it an perfect defense against ambitious individuals like herself and Voldemort.

Without Harry's pure intentions, Voldemort would never obtain the Stone, no matter his efforts. In a twisted way, both Mirabelle and the Dark Lord needed Harry to succeed in reaching the mirror.

Perhaps it's time to provide some encouragement.

•~•

Harry's ordeal continued beyond the point deduction. As punishment, he and his companions were ordered to serve detention in the Forbidden Forest at eleven PM, meeting at Hagrid's hut.

Even with Hagrid's guidance, the forest remained perilous—a single wrong step could lead to a fatal encounter with dangerous creatures. The punishment revealed Filch's sadistic nature in its brutal creativity.

"Look there—see that silvery substance on the ground? That's unicorn blood," Hagrid explained grimly, his lantern casting eerie shadows between the trees. "Something's been attacking unicorns in these woods. Second time this week. We need to find the poor creature."

Their mission: locate and aid an injured unicorn somewhere in the vast, dark forest.

After convincing the terrified Malfoy to participate, the group split into two teams. Harry, Hermione, and Hagrid formed one group, while Malfoy and Neville joined the second, accompanied by Hagrid's cowardly boarhound, Fang.

The arrangement proved problematic when Malfoy deliberately startled Neville, causing the boy to panic and send up red sparks, the emergency signal. The premature alarm forced a regrouping and delayed their search significantly.

Frustrated, Hagrid reassigned the teams, taking Hermione and Neville while leaving Harry with Malfoy and Fang.

Thirty minutes into their renewed search, Harry and Malfoy witnessed something that would haunt their nightmares.

Deep in the forest's heart, a pure white unicorn lay motionless on the ground, its silver blood pooling in the moonlight. Hunched over the majestic creature was a hooded figure, drinking greedily from the fatal wound.

The sight was horrific—the figure's face was stained with luminous blood, and its eyes gleamed with an unnatural light that pierced the darkness.

"AHHHHHHH!" Malfoy's terrified scream shattered the forest's silence as he fled, Fang close behind, abandoning Harry completely.

Alone and paralyzed with fear, Harry could only watch as the shadow detected his presence and began crawling toward him with predatory intent. With each meter it closed, the scar on Harry's forehead erupted in agony, throbbing like an alarm bell.

Ten meters... eight... six...

"Help me!" Harry tried to scream, but terror had stolen his voice, leaving only a strangled whisper.

Four meters... three... two...

Just as the shadow reached for him—

"Enough, you filthy parasite."

A clear, melodious voice rang out, followed by a curse that seemed incongruous with its bell-like tone.

Golden light blazed through the darkness, striking the hooded figure with tremendous force. The impact sent the creature flying backward with a resounding crack, slamming it against an ancient oak tree.

"Ah... you..." Harry gasped, enduring his scar's pain to identify his savior.

Silhouetted against the full moon atop a nearby tree stood a girl whose golden hair seemed to capture and reflect the moonlight itself. Her distinctive amber eyes, visible even in the darkness, regarded the shadow with unconcealed contempt.

She was the brightest, most dangerous, and arguably most terrifying student in their year, but in this moment, she appeared utterly reliable.

"Mirabelle... Beresford!"

"What a mess you've gotten yourself into, Potter," she said in her characteristic calm tone, arms crossed with casual confidence. "I never expected to stumble across something this interesting during a simple evening stroll."

Despite being a Slytherin like Malfoy, Harry would choose Mirabelle as an ally without hesitation. Unlike Malfoy's cowardly flight, she faced the unknown threat with steady determination. In this terrifying situation, she might prove more dependable than Hagrid himself.

"Well then," Mirabelle addressed the shadow with mock politeness, "should I introduce myself properly? It's only courteous."

The hooded figure offered no response, clearly displeased by her interruption.

In an instant, Mirabelle vanished from the tree and materialized directly beside the creature, her hand clamped around its throat with casual efficiency.

Harry couldn't comprehend what had just occurred. Apparition was advanced magic far beyond first-year students, and Mirabelle's technique seemed different from standard magical transportation, smoother, more fluid, somehow alien.

"Listen carefully," she hissed, tightening her grip. "I'm Mirabelle, and I'm attempting a civilized greeting. The polite response would be to answer."

When the shadow remained silent, her expression hardened.

"Manners matter," she declared, then slammed the creature into the forest floor with surprising strength.

With her free hand, she withdrew her wand—an unusual weapon that seemed too large and ornate to be called a simple magical focus. How had she concealed something over seventy centimeters long in her robes? Without hesitation, she swung the oversized wand downward, aiming for the creature's concealed face.

The hooded figure barely escaped the devastating blow, rolling aside as Mirabelle's wand cracked the earth where its head had been. She immediately pointed her wand at the retreating shadow and began her assault.

"Incendio!" Flames erupted from her wand tip.

"Aguamenti!" The creature countered with a torrent of water.

Fire and water collided in a spectacular display, steam hissing as the opposing forces canceled each other out. The sheer scale of magic being wielded was far beyond what any first-year student should possess, even Hermione, the most talented of Harry's friends, couldn't produce flames of such intensity.

"Interesting, you're not completely helpless. Try this!" Mirabelle's voice carried dangerous excitement. "Expulso!"

"Protego!" The creature's shield charm absorbed the explosive curse.

"Confringo!"

"Protego Totalum!"

"Let's increase the pace, shall we? Can you keep up?"

"Damn you!" the shadow snarled, the first words it had spoken.

Mirabelle unleashed spell after spell with increasing velocity, each casting more precise than the last. Initially, she vocalized each incantation clearly, but soon she transitioned to silent casting, her wand weaving complex patterns as magic flowed like water.

The hooded figure found itself completely defensive, barely managing to maintain its protective barriers. Cracks began appearing in its magical shields under Mirabelle's relentless assault. If this continued, the outcome was inevitable.

"What's wrong?" Mirabelle taunted, laughter dancing in her voice. "Only defensive spells? How disappointing!"

Desperation drove the creature to attempt an offensive. "Crucio!"

The Torture Curse, one of the three Unforgivable Curses, lanced toward Mirabelle with sickly green light. But she was no longer there.

She reappeared behind her opponent faster than the curse could travel, her hand shooting out to wrench the creature's wand from its grasp.

"My apologies," she said with false sympathy, "but you've lost."

The shadow stumbled backward in shock, but without a wand, resistance was futile. In wizard duels, losing one's wand was tantamount to death.

Mirabelle examined the captured wand with cold satisfaction. "Now then, hooded stranger, let me demonstrate an fascinating spell. Are you familiar with Prior Incantato?"

"It merely reveals the last spell cast by a wand," the creature replied warily. "What of it?"

"Ordinarily, yes—it creates a ghostly echo, nothing more. However, my version is considerably more... thorough. When I cast Prior Incantato, it doesn't just show the last spell—it recreates it completely."

Harry heard the sharp intake of breath from the hooded figure and understood the implications even before Mirabelle's explanation.

"You see, Potter, the problem lies in this creature's most recent spell, the Cruciatus Curse. A torture spell that inflicts pain beyond description, classified by the Ministry as Unforgivable when used on humans."

The shadow's fear was palpable now. Any ethical person would hesitate to employ such dark magic, especially an eleven-year-old girl. But Mirabelle showed no hesitation whatsoever, raising the captured wand with clinical detachment.

"Time to squeal like the pig you are," she declared with chilling cheerfulness.

The creature immediately attempted to flee, but Mirabelle was already beginning her incantation. The spell would complete before any escape was possible.

Harry, Mirabelle, and even their enemy recognized this decisive moment.

But then rustling foliage announced new arrivals, and Hagrid's booming voice called out, "Harry! Where are you?"

Apparently, Fang's panicked return had alerted the groundskeeper to potential danger.

Mirabelle clicked her tongue in annoyance and lowered her wand. "Tsk... just when things were getting interesting."

Taking advantage of the interruption, the hooded figure vanished into the night's embrace like smoke.

"He escaped," Harry said unnecessarily, disappointment clear in his voice.

"Indeed. I suppose I should withdraw as well," Mirabelle mused, then fixed Harry with an intense stare. "Potter, if you wish to learn more about that shadow... meet me in the girls' bathroom on the third floor after your detention ends."

She clearly preferred not to discuss sensitive matters where Hagrid might overhear and complicate things.

With those cryptic words, Mirabelle dissolved into mist as silently as she had arrived, leaving no trace of her presence.

Harry stood stunned until Hagrid and Hermione found him moments later, his mind churning with questions.

The girls' bathroom on the third floor? What does Beresford know about that creature?

---

Author's Note: This episode featured three key elements: Mirabelle's plotting at home, Harry's point deduction, and the confrontation with Quirrell. As promised, we've seen the "beautiful Mirabelle" side of her character, though Harry has no idea that this helpful girl will become a significant threat in the future.

Note: Only Mirabelle's dialogue includes pronunciation guides (ruby text) to help distinguish her spellcasting from others.