Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

The first task had ended successfully, though with minor deviations from the events Mirabel was familiar with.

However, the competition wasn't over yet. The participants now faced the second task.

Before diving into preparation for that, another event was looming on the horizon, one that stirred up the students: the Christmas Dance Party.

This event, designed to foster interaction among the three schools, required each student to choose a partner of the opposite sex.

As a result, the school buzzed with an almost feverish excitement.

Would they manage to secure their desired partner? For teenagers, this seemed to matter more than anything else.

"A dance, huh... Mirabel, have you found a partner yet?"

It was Edith who spoke, nibbling on a sausage at the dinner table.

This wasn't a topic of concern for her alone. Ever since the announcement of the dance party, the same subject had dominated conversations at tables all over the school.

"Ah, Flint asked me, so I agreed. What about you?"

Mirabel answered Edith's question with an air of indifference, then returned the inquiry. Edith slumped her shoulders dejectedly and let out a small sigh.

"Not yet… Harry and Hermione are dancing together, so I really don't want to be the only one without a partner."

"What? Granger isn't dancing with Viktor Krum?"

"No, he apparently asked her, but she prioritized Harry. Then Krum asked Ron Weasley's younger sister."

Hearing Edith's explanation, Mirabel frowned.

The pairings had diverged significantly from what she knew.

Originally, Harry was supposed to dance with Parvati, Hermione with Krum, and Ginny Weasley was meant to ask Neville Longbottom.

The mismatched pairings were likely due to the absence of Ronald Weasley last year, even if it was only for a year.

Perhaps that had narrowed the distance between Harry and Hermione, making them less hesitant to pair up, Mirabel speculated.

"Mirabel, do you know anyone good?"

"I could lend you Sidney if you'd like. He won't refuse if I command him."

"…No thanks. It'd feel pretty hollow to dance with someone like that."

Mirabel's younger brother, Sidney, was certainly handsome. There were undoubtedly plenty of girls who would love to dance with him.

But dancing with someone out of obligation? That would only be pathetic and far from enjoyable.

Edith shared this sentiment and declined Mirabel's offer.

"Well, I'll just try to find someone suitable."

"That's probably for the best."

There was still time until Christmas, so there was no need to panic yet.

At worst, skipping the party altogether remained an option.

As Edith mulled over her situation, their conversation was interrupted by none other than the ever-persistent Draco Malfoy.

"Hey, Beresford. Have you already found a partner? I suppose with that nasty personality of yours, nobody's interested. But if you're desperate, I could show some pity and reluctantly pair up with you..."

"It's already settled. You should stick to dancing with that pug-faced girl of yours."

"..."

Visibly deflated, Malfoy trudged back to his table.

Mirabel's response, as always, was devoid of even the slightest mercy.

Even Edith couldn't help but start feeling a bit sorry for Malfoy at this point.

During the subsequent lessons, most students were too preoccupied with thoughts of the dance party to focus, leaving few who actually paid attention.

Of course, Professor Binns' History of Magic class wasn't typically one anyone paid attention to anyway, so there wasn't much difference.

The restless days passed, and at last, Christmas arrived.

When Edith woke up that morning, she found a small mountain of gift boxes at the foot of her bed, causing her face to light up.

This was her fourth year at the school, but the sight of presents waiting for her like this never failed to fill her with excitement.

From the Lineagrove family came various accessories. From her Slytherin friends, including Daphne Greengrass, came assortments of sweets.

Harry had gifted her a hair ornament, and Hermione, a necklace—likely for her to wear at the dance party.

As for Mirabel, she had prepared a golden dragon-shaped figurine.

What made it even more astonishing was that Mirabel had crafted it herself through alchemy, a testament to her abundant talents, which left Edith both impressed and exasperated.

(A three-headed dragon... Isn't there something like this in a Japanese movie?)

Edith set aside Mirabel's figurine and looked over at her friend's bed.

As expected, it was piled high, forming a literal mountain of gifts.

Every year, Mirabel's devotees would send her an overwhelming number of presents, most of which she would promptly attach to dozens of owls and send to her family's storage without even opening.

This tradition often halved the number of owls available at the Owlery temporarily.

However, gifts from those who were not her followers, like Edith or Marcus, were always checked and appreciated, proving she wasn't entirely indifferent to presents.

And then came the evening.

Finally, the much-anticipated party began.

In the common room, many students had already gathered, all dressed in colorful, elegant attire quite unlike their usual appearances.

Edith was wearing a blue one-piece dress, adorned with an opal necklace glimmering at her chest.

She repeatedly checked her reflection in the mirror, seemingly unaccustomed to her outfit, worrying whether she looked strange.

Though it might have been amusing to watch her fuss, no one laughed—everyone was equally preoccupied with their own appearance.

Edith was still adjusting her dress when the common room suddenly fell silent.

When Edith turned around to see what was causing the sudden silence, she was greeted by a surreal sight, as if a fairy tale princess had stepped right out of a storybook into reality.

The usually stunning golden hair that cascaded down her back was now elegantly styled into a princess curl, adorned with a silver tiara. She wore a pure white princess gown, and her lightly applied makeup—rare for her—subtly enhanced her youthful, yet almost perfected beauty.

Her exposed shoulders and collarbone exuded a delicate allure, and her uncharacteristically graceful presence carried an almost divine quality.

"Could you please go back into the pages of a picture book?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

The words slipped out of Edith's mouth unbidden.

This was too much. With such an ethereal figure casually wandering about, every other girl would be relegated to mere background scenery. The only one who could possibly compete was Fleur Delacour of Beauxbatons, but as she wasn't a Hogwarts student—much less in Slytherin—she didn't count.

"I've realized one thing: you should never be allowed to dress up."

"Not that I ever really needed to, anyway," Mirabel replied.

It was clear now—her standard Hogwarts uniform was more than sufficient. This was genuinely problematic. She already radiated an inexplicable charm, and this attire amplified it severalfold.

At this point, she might as well be the Imperius Curse personified. An Unforgivable Curse in a dress. One had to wonder if the Cruciatus and Avada Kedavra were also roaming nearby in disguise.

Without a doubt, after tonight, Mirabel would earn the nickname "The Walking Imperius Curse."

"Fine, let's go downstairs, Reinagel."

"Wait, are we going together? That makes me your entourage!"

"Don't worry. Everyone is an entourage compared to me."

Normally, this kind of statement would come across as overconfidence, but with her, it felt impossible to argue otherwise.

Sighing, Edith trailed after Mirabel, keeping a deliberate distance. Walk beside her? Absolutely not. She refused to become a side-by-side comparison.

When they reached the Great Hall, Marcus Flint was already there, apparently waiting for Mirabel. However, as soon as he saw her, his expression froze, and his entire body stiffened like a statue.

"Oh…"

"Wait, Flint-senpai!? Pull yourself together!"

"There is no regret in this life… Marcus returns to the heavens unaided…"

"Calm down, Flint-senpai! You're not going anywhere!"

Shaking Marcus, Edith tried to snap him out of his delirium. Eventually, he jolted back to awareness, looking around in confusion.

It seemed he hadn't even realized he'd lost himself, let alone remembered his bizarre mutterings.

"What… what just happened to me?"

"Hey, Flint, are you alright? A man who can't even escort his partner is out of the question."

"I-I'm fine! No problem here! Bring me the finest gear!"

This was hopeless.

Thinking he was beyond help, Edith scanned the room for her own partner. He should have arrived by now.

But instead of spotting him, her eyes landed on another stunning figure striding across the hall—Fleur Delacour, her silver hair gleaming as she moved.

She was heading straight toward Mirabel, and vice versa.

The two stopped in the middle of the hall, facing each other in silence, their gazes locked in an unmistakable battle of wills.

"Would you kindly step aside, Hogwarts student? I need to pass through here," Fleur said coolly.

"You step aside, Beauxbatons student. I only move for garbage in my path."

Sparks—literal, magical sparks—crackled in the air between them.

Both, supremely confident in their unmatched beauty, were destined to clash the moment they met.

Fleur's eyes narrowed, and she began to raise her hand. Mirabel, in turn, cracked her knuckles with a dangerous grin.

"Wait, stop, stop! Both of you, no fighting here! And where are your partners? Stop them too!"

"I have no need for titles like 'Fist King'… This Marcus shall ascend as the Demon King…"

Marcus, too, was beyond saving. Just encountering Mirabel had shattered his composure, and now Fleur's presence had completely unmoored him.

Turning to Fleur's partner, Roger Davies, Edith hoped for help, but he was also muttering incomprehensibly, lost in his own world.

"The ocean of Okeanos… It was here all along… That sea breeze was Okeanos…"

"…"

He was just as far gone.

Edith didn't blame them. Even as a fellow girl accustomed to Mirabel's presence, she occasionally found herself on the verge of being swept away by her charm. Asking these men to resist was utterly unrealistic.

"Alright, you two! You're blocking everyone else! If you want to fight, do it later!"

Honestly, perhaps these two otherworldly beauties should be isolated in a separate space altogether.

Thinking such impolite thoughts, Edith forcibly inserted herself between the two, breaking their standoff and pulling Mirabel away by the arm.

"She really stepped in between those two…"

"…That's one gutsy girl."

Though all she had done was stop an argument, the surrounding students looked at her with a mixture of admiration and respect.

Feeling her cheeks flush with heat, Edith inwardly cursed Mirabel. Why did she have to endure such humiliation at what was supposed to be a festive party?

Meanwhile, completely unaware of Edith's frustrations, Mirabel addressed her in her usual nonchalant manner.

"By the way, Leinagle, who is your partner?"

"Theodore Nott."

After creating enough distance from Fleur, Edith looked for her partner. She spotted a slender figure approaching from the other side—it was Theodore. Among the Slytherin boys, he was a decent choice.

Mirabel let out a quiet, intrigued "Hmm," and smirked with amusement.

"Not a bad pick at all."

"Well... yeah, I guess," Edith responded dismissively, trying to hide her embarrassment as she quickly made her way to the table.

The hall was already bustling with students seated at their tables, though the atmosphere felt uncertain. Before them were golden plates, entirely empty, leaving everyone puzzled.

"What is this? How do we order food?"

"Hmm. They've certainly added an intriguing twist this time," Mirabel remarked, amused as she examined the menu. After scanning it briefly, she uttered, "Carpaccio."

Instantly, carpaccio appeared on her golden plate. The Slytherin students quickly caught on to the unconventional ordering method.

"Wow... How does this even work? Okay, um... Scotch egg, I guess?"

With a mix of hesitation and curiosity, Edith read aloud from the menu, and a Scotch egg materialized before her. She marveled at the sight.

"That's amazing... though I can see Hermione complaining about this method."

"Ah, yes. I've heard she's recently been working to establish some group called 'S.P.E.W. (Spew)' or something."

"It's not 'Spew'! It stands for 'Society for the Promotion of Elfish Welfare'—S.P.E.W."

"And its goal is to improve the rights of house-elves, correct?"

Hermione had become fixated on advocating for house-elves lately. She had been going around all the houses, trying to recruit members, placing donation cans everywhere, and giving impassioned speeches to anyone who would listen. So far, her efforts had gone largely unnoticed.

Her "members" currently consisted only of herself, Harry, Ron, and Edith, who had been more or less coerced into joining.

"Hermione's smart, but sometimes she can be foolish."

Advancing the rights of house-elves—it certainly sounded noble on paper. However, Hermione seemed oblivious to the fact that house-elves themselves did not desire such "improvements."

Still, Mirabel didn't entirely disagree with the premise. As a staunch believer in meritocracy, she found it distasteful that highly capable house-elves were often at the mercy of incompetent masters. She didn't believe in forcing liberation upon them but thought they deserved to serve under masters who matched their capabilities. In that sense, she was partially aligned with Hermione's ideals.

"Oh, look, the dancing has started. Wait... is that Hermione?"

The dance's spotlight was on the champions and their partners. Harry, Fleur, Krum, and Cedric showcased their dances to the music. Edith was wide-eyed as she watched Harry and Hermione's pair in particular.

"Who is that?" she thought, unable to reconcile the girl in front of her with the Hermione she knew.

"That's Hermione, without a doubt. She's always had the potential to be attractive. She just never polished herself until now," Mirabel remarked matter-of-factly.

Gone was Hermione's usual frizzy hair, replaced by sleek brown locks styled in an elegant chignon. A light touch of makeup enhanced her features, while a flowing blue dress complemented her perfectly. Without her usual mountain of books weighing her down, her appearance was transformed.

The girl dancing with Harry wasn't the same frumpy student from class—she was an undeniable beauty. Unlike Mirabel or Fleur's ethereal, otherworldly allure that felt almost unapproachable, Hermione radiated the kind of beauty that invited companionship, the kind that made you want to walk by her side.

"Well then, it's our turn to dance. Let's go, Flint."

"O-oh, right!"

Mirabel rose from her seat, followed hastily by Marcus Flint. Edith and Theodore joined them as they moved to the dance floor.

The music guided their steps as they danced, enjoying the elegance of the evening.

A sophisticated dance party on the eve of the second task—Edith couldn't deny it was a delightful experience. Awkwardly navigating unfamiliar dance steps, she found herself thinking that moments like these weren't so bad after all.

May this wonderful school life last forever, she thought wistfully.

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