Harry Potter and the Ambitious Girl

That day, a new face was present during Care of Magical Creatures class. Instead of Hagrid, an unfamiliar witch was standing at the front.

She was an elderly woman with white hair and a jutting chin, who introduced herself as Grubbly-Plank.

The lesson was straightforward—exactly what one might expect from a class on magical creatures. The stark contrast to Hagrid's typically chaotic lessons—especially the ordeal with the Blast-Ended Skrewts—delighted the students, who threw themselves enthusiastically into the class.

"I wonder what happened to Hagrid," Edith said with concern.

"No idea," Mirabel replied, stroking the smooth fur of a unicorn. "Frankly, I wouldn't mind if things stayed like this."

Despite her brash demeanor, Mirabel was not one to dislike beautiful creatures. When she scratched the unicorn's throat, it let out a contented whinny and nuzzled against her.

"Professor Grubbly-Plank said Hagrid wasn't feeling well. But what could be wrong with him?"

The question came from Harry, who had joined the conversation.

As usual, this lesson was a joint session with Gryffindor, and Harry and Hermione often approached Edith. To be precise, Edith was the only Slytherin they could comfortably talk to, but that was a minor detail.

"Could it be... the Skrewts?"

"If you think he was attacked by them, you're wrong, Lineagall."

The one cutting off Edith's speculation was none other than Malfoy. During joint classes, Malfoy reliably found ways to provoke Harry.

This often resulted in an odd congregation: Edith, Mirabel, Harry, Hermione, Ron, and Malfoy clustering in the same spot, like clockwork.

"He's just too embarrassed to show his ugly, oversized face," Malfoy sneered.

"What are you getting at?"

"Well, I didn't want to ruin your day with this, Potter," Malfoy said, smirking as he tossed a newspaper at Harry.

Harry quickly unfolded it, his expression turning to one of shock.

The article was filled with harsh criticisms of Hagrid.

In summary: Dumbledore had made questionable staffing choices; Hagrid, who subjected students to Blast-Ended Skrewts, was unfit to teach; the students were scared of him; and Hagrid was a dangerous half-giant.

Reading over Harry's shoulder, Mirabel thought, Well, nine-tenths of that is true, in her typically dispassionate manner.

"'We all hate Hagrid'? What kind of nonsense is this?! It says someone got badly bitten by a Flobberworm? That's ridiculous—they don't even have teeth!"

Harry threw the newspaper to the ground and shouted angrily.

The article quoted an interview with Malfoy, who claimed, "I was attacked by a Hippogriff, and my friend Vincent Crabbe got badly bitten by a Flobberworm." The blatant lies only fueled Harry's outrage.

Malfoy, still grinning, turned to Mirabel.

Edith, sensing trouble, tried to intervene, but she was too late. Malfoy decided to stir the pot further.

"What do you think, Beresford? Spot anything wrong with it?"

Edith buried her face in her hands.

Mirabel, who wasn't particularly invested in Hagrid or Harry, could easily have been left alone. Why did Malfoy insist on provoking her?

Predictably, Mirabel glanced at him with utter disinterest and delivered her cold response.

"As Potter said, your testimony was the only unnecessary part."

"Huh?"

"Flobberworms don't bite. Even a child with basic care experience knows that. Including such a blatant falsehood undermines the credibility of the entire article."

The article was, after all, mostly factual.

Dumbledore's questionable hiring decisions were evident from the likes of Lockhart and Trelawney, and Hagrid's lack of teaching aptitude was obvious, given how much the students were enjoying this class.

However, Malfoy's testimony had been a glaring mistake. This easily disprovable lie cast doubt on the other claims, rendering the article less believable overall.

As Mirabel pointed this out, Harry's face lit up with a triumphant smile.

"Thank you, Malfoy, for testifying in Hagrid's favor!"

"Wha…?!"

"Thanks to you, it looks like more people will think this article is a lie. I'm delighted."

Malfoy's face turned bright red at Harry's sarcasm, but he couldn't come up with a retort and slunk away in defeat.

Watching him leave, Edith couldn't help but feel a bit of pity. Why doesn't he just give up already? she thought. What on earth is driving him to go this far?

"Still, how did they find out that Hagrid is half-giant?"

Harry muttered in frustration, stamping on the newspaper lying on the ground.

It was an undeniable fact that Hagrid was a half-giant. Harry had heard it straight from Hagrid himself, who also claimed that Madame Maxime was one as well. But there shouldn't have been anyone else around to overhear that conversation.

"Well, well... Rita Skeeter, huh? Ignorance aside, her information-gathering skills seem to be the real deal," Mirabel said, her interest clearly piqued as she stroked a unicorn.

Even if her methods were despicable, Skeeter's ability to gather information without anyone noticing was impressive. Mirabel considered her a person worth recruiting as an asset — if only that were possible.

Class continued smoothly after that, and once the majority of students were satisfied, the session was dismissed. It was no surprise which lesson the students preferred — Hagrid's or this one.

The first task had ended with Harry in the lead.

But his lead was razor-thin, and it wouldn't be surprising if he were overtaken in an instant.

That meant Harry had to figure out the second task and come up with a strategy right away.

The key to the second task lay in the golden egg he had won from the first. However, every time he opened it, it only emitted an incomprehensible, high-pitched screech, offering no apparent clues.

The champions were expected to crack the mystery of this egg, identify the second task, and plan their approach accordingly.

But this was where one of Harry's bad habits surfaced.

Brave as he was, he was still a teenager, and like many his age, he tended to prioritize fun over responsibility.

It was just like a kid with an upcoming test who tells himself, "I'll study tomorrow," and then spends the day playing.

The long interval between tasks only made things worse.

Even by mid-January, he had yet to figure out the egg's secret. Knowing it was wrong, he still let himself be lured into trips to Hogsmeade, continually putting off the problem.

"You finally have a quiet common room. You should take advantage of it," Hermione scolded.

She was absolutely right.

But Harry, not wanting to miss a trip to Hogsmeade, lied to her.

He claimed he had already figured out most of the secret.

While he frittered away more of his precious time in Hogsmeade, Mirabel watched him with growing exasperation, wondering if she should just give him a hint.

It was then that she appeared before Mirabel.

Her garish, jewel-encrusted glasses, curled hair, angular chin, and crimson-purple robes made her instantly recognizable — Rita Skeeter, the journalist behind the article defaming Hagrid.

She suddenly approached Mirabel, who had been outside on the school grounds during lunch break, wearing a sticky smile as she drew near.

"You're a Slytherin student, aren't you? Would you spare me a moment of your time?"

"Not interested," Mirabel replied curtly.

"Ah, that's wonderful. Let's go somewhere we can chat in peace."

Ignoring Mirabel's response, Skeeter grabbed her hand and started pulling her along.

Mirabel's brow furrowed with irritation, but Skeeter didn't notice.

The journalist dragged Mirabel to a shed at the edge of the school grounds, closed the door, and made sure no one could enter from the outside.

"Now then, I have a few questions for you. I've heard that you often speak with Hermione Granger from Gryffindor, is that correct?"

"From time to time, yes," Mirabel answered nonchalantly.

"Is that so? So, what's your impression of her?"

"She's an exceptionally intelligent student. Her only flaw is that she can be a bit rigid in her thinking, but she makes up for it with creativity and adaptability."

Mirabel held Hermione in high regard.

But as Skeeter listened, her expression soured. Her hand moved swiftly as she scribbled on a piece of paper.

On the paper, she wrote: "According to Slytherin student Mirabel Beresford, Granger is a stubborn and foolish student."

The words were nothing like what Mirabel had actually said.

Noticing this, Mirabel's eyes narrowed, and without hesitation, she snatched the paper from Skeeter's hand.

"…These words are completely different from what I said, aren't they?"

"Oh my, oh my, oh my! No need to sweat the small stuff. Readers love it when you spice things up a little."

"In that case, you have no need for my testimony. Go have a conversation with a wall instead."

With that, Mirabel casually ripped the paper to shreds.

Rita Skeeter's eyes grew sharp, and the pasted-on smile she'd been wearing vanished.

"I'm leaving now. If you want information, why don't you try asking Malfoy?

Not that I think anything that guy says will be useful, though."

"Don't get cocky, you foolish little girl. All you have to do is sit there and answer my questions."

"My, my. You dropped the act sooner than I expected."

Mirabel flashed a mocking smile at the increasingly agitated Skeeter.

One of the things Mirabel despised most was being looked down on by others. She loved looking down on others but could not stand being on the receiving end — a terribly selfish way to think.

This woman had clearly underestimated her, dragging her into this place as if she were dealing with a helpless child.

If that's how she sees it, then I suppose I should teach her a lesson — a lesson in who stands above whom.

"I can gather as much dirt on you as I want, you know.

I could ruin you and all your little friends, erase you from society altogether.

I don't care if they call you the 'Tyrant of Slytherin' or whatever nonsense. If you understand, you'll sit quietly and spill the information I want."

"Oh? A lowly hyena, skulking around in the shadows, dares bark in front of this Mirabel?"

"…So, you do want to make me angry, huh? Fine. I'll make you regret it.

I'll teach you a lesson — about how information is power.

Even if you cry and beg for forgiveness, I won't let you off."

With one hand on the door, Skeeter's voice grew colder as she attempted to intimidate Mirabel.

This was her tried-and-true tactic. She had crushed countless people like this before.

By writing lies and half-truths, she could ruin someone's reputation to the point they couldn't walk freely under the sun.

Information is power. Control the information, and you control people.

This little girl would be no exception. Once she left this shed, Skeeter would write whatever she pleased about her, ruin her reputation, and destroy her life.

That was what Skeeter believed.

But if she made one mistake, it was that she dragged Mirabel into this shed without properly researching who she was dealing with.

She hadn't locked Mirabel in with her. She had willingly stepped into a cage with a wild beast.

"Shall I lend you a hand?"

"Huh?"

"I said, shall I lend you a hand? If you're going to write an article, it's better to stick with the truth than to peddle lies."

Mirabel's face twisted into a cold, unsettling smile as she raised her arm.

What now? Is she trying to crawl back to me in regret?

Skeeter sneered, convinced that Mirabel had finally realized her place.

But then Mirabel's hand shot forward — and struck her right in the mouth.

—Breaking her front teeth clean off.

"P-please… s-stop… no more…"

"'Information is power,' huh? That's one way to look at it.

But my view is a little different."

Several minutes later, the inside of the shed had become a vision of hell.

Blood splattered the walls and floor, filling the air with the metallic stench of iron.

Amidst it all, Mirabel sat casually on a nearby crate, legs crossed, as if none of it bothered her in the slightest.

At her feet lay Rita Skeeter.

Her gaudy glasses had shattered, shards of glass embedded in her face.

All ten of her fingers were twisted at unnatural angles, broken beyond repair.

Several teeth were missing, and her nose had been bent sideways like a snapped branch.

Mirabel planted her foot on Skeeter's head, forcing her battered, tear-streaked face into the blood-soaked floor.

"Now, in the past, present, and future…

The simplest, most efficient way to control people is through violence and fear.

The strong rise to the top. There is no law more simple or more beautiful."

"P-please… I'm begging you… no more… I'm sorry…"

Tears, snot, and spit flowed from Skeeter's face as she begged in a choked, pathetic voice.

Mirabel's grin widened into a sadistic smirk.

She drew her leg back — and delivered a sharp kick to Skeeter's jaw, sending her crashing against the shed's wall.

Two more broken teeth traced arcs of blood in the air before landing on the floor with a soft clatter.

"'Even if you cry and beg, I won't forgive you,' was it?

That was quite a bold line to throw at this Mirabel."

"Hiieee…! Hiiieeeee…!!"

Skeeter shrieked, trying desperately to crawl away on all fours.

But before she could make it far, Mirabel grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back.

With no mercy, she slammed Skeeter's face into the floor once more.

"You've got to be kidding me. This Mirabel, begging for mercy from the likes of you?

Don't underestimate me. I'd rather die than show such pathetic weakness."

Grabbing Skeeter by the hair, she yanked her head up, forcing her to face her own reflection of terror.

Rita had already lost the will to resist. Her body trembled pitifully, stripped of all dignity.

"Come on, say it. Who is it that should be begging for mercy, and from whom?"

"M-me! I'm the one! I'm the one who should be begging you for mercy!"

Covered in blood, tears, snot, and drool, Skeeter howled her submission.

Hearing that, Mirabel finally seemed satisfied and released Skeeter's hair.

But if Rita thought it was over, she was sorely mistaken.

This girl was not so kind.

Mirabel pulled out a bat's wing from her coat pocket and began to channel magic into it.

"That's right. It is always I who stands above. I, Mirabel, am the ruler.

For a clever little thing like you who has finally learned her place, I'll grant you a reward."

The bat's wing, infused with magic, burst into flames, and the fire enveloped Mirabel's fingertips.

Her nails turned a sickly shade of blue and began to writhe as if they had a life of their own.

The grotesque sight made Skeeter whimper, and she tried to back away.

But before she could, Mirabel had already seized her arm.

"W-what are you…?"

"Don't be afraid... I'm acknowledging your talent for gathering information.

From now on, you will use that talent for the benefit of this Mirabel."

With a sadistic grin plastered on her face, Mirabel drove her claws into Skeeter's arm without hesitation.

In an instant, the pain of burning flesh seared through Skeeter's veins.

She screamed. She screamed so hard her voice cracked.

She twisted and rolled on the ground, clawing at her arm, desperate to make it stop.

Her voice rang out, raw and unfiltered, until she didn't even know what she was screaming anymore.

When the agony finally subsided, she saw it — her index finger had sprouted a single, unnatural, ominous blue claw.

"T-that claw is proof of your subjugation. It marks your servitude to this Mirabel.

If you dare defy me or try to remove it, that claw will change from blue to violet, and eventually to a crimson red like blood.

Once it turns red, you're finished. Your entire body will be blown to bits, and you'll be reborn as a mindless, insignificant insect — incapable of ever returning to human form."

"L-lies… that's a lie…"

"Then go ahead. Defy me. Try it. I won't stop you."

Skeeter's face went pale in an instant. Her lips trembled uncontrollably.

What… what is this girl?

Is this really something a human could do?

How can a mere student commit such heartless cruelty as if it's nothing?

Skeeter could no longer understand what she was facing.

Is this thing in front of me… really even human?

"I'm leaving now. If a teacher finds this mess, it'll be troublesome.

Make sure you clean it all up. You're good at erasing evidence, aren't you?"

"..."

"What's wrong? Didn't you hear me?"

Skeeter, too overwhelmed with terror to speak, glanced at her claw — and gasped in horror.

The color was changing.

The pale blue of the sky had darkened into a murky, deep blue.

"Ah… ahhh…!" she squealed, springing to her feet.

I can't defy her. I must not defy her.

That fact, that undeniable truth, carved itself into her heart in a single instant.

"Y-yes! Yes! Right away! I'll do it right away!"

Hearing Skeeter's panicked reply, Mirabel simply muttered, "Good."

She snapped her fingers.

Instantly, all of Skeeter's wounds vanished.

The pain, the swelling, and the broken bones — all of it was gone.

Her body was back to normal, just as it had been before.

This meant she could use magic again. Cleaning up wouldn't be too difficult now.

And so, having bent Rita Skeeter to her will with nothing but terror and violence,

the wicked demon left the warehouse without a second glance, heading off to her next class as if nothing had happened.

All that remained in the shed was Rita Skeeter, her teeth chattering noisily as she devoted herself to cleaning the blood-soaked room,

like a prisoner still haunted by the nightmare that had unfolded mere moments ago.

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