Everyone doubted the scene before their eyes.
Everyone was overwhelmed by that crushing presence.
She'd certainly always been a girl with an incomprehensible aura of intimidation.
But what was this?
Had Mirabel Beresford truly possessed such an appalling presence?
And why, despite being so terrifying, did she draw them in?
The only one here who knew Mirabel was no longer human was Voldemort, but his fury at having his most excellent pawn destroyed right before him left no room for such thoughts.
Mirabel sneered at him mockingly and produced glass fragments from her robes, dropping them on the floor for all to see.
At first, Voldemort didn't understand what they were, but as comprehension dawned, his face turned ashen.
"That's—!"
"Yes, exactly. The prophecy you wanted so badly. But Voldemort... you're less impressive than I thought."
"What...?"
"To think you spent an entire year and couldn't even obtain one tiny glass orb... I'm disappointed in you, Voldemort. I at least expected you to have conquered the Ministry by now."
Mirabel laughed mockingly with genuine contempt.
This wasn't provocation.
She truly, from the bottom of her heart, felt both exasperation and delight at Voldemort's incompetence.
"How dare you act superior... you haven't achieved anything this year either!"
"Oh?"
"The Dark Lord knows everything, Beresford! Everything about Britain's magical world! You haven't grasped a single thing this year! You're all talk, third-rate!"
Voldemort condemned Mirabel, roaring.
But no disturbance showed on Mirabel's face.
On the contrary, she only twisted her mouth more gleefully.
Harry somehow understood the emotion there.
It was 'delight'!
Like a story's protagonist hiding their true power, looking down internally at someone inferior boasting—'condescending delight'!
Harry felt that in Mirabel's expression.
"'The Dark Lord knows everything'... hehehehe."
"What's so funny?"
"Say, Voldemort, you petty man who spent a year unable to obtain one glass orb. Do you... really think I did nothing? That I prepared a double to divert your attention from me, and truly did nothing?"
Mirabel smiled with a grin full of superiority.
Like a twisted face showing off a new toy to a poor child who couldn't buy one.
This was her uniquely wicked expression that 'Double Mary,' who'd been with Edith this year, never showed.
"I spent this year abroad. I prepared a double to prevent anyone from noticing I wasn't in the country."
"Abroad... Mirabel, you don't mean..."
"Oh, you noticed, Dumbledore. Your mental acuity differs from that snake-man, I see."
Contrasting Mirabel's increasingly amused face, Dumbledore's turned pale.
"Just as you're thinking. I've been staying in Germany until now. In Germany's—Prime Minister's magical residence."
"—!"
"Incidentally, until six months ago I lived in France's Prime Minister's residence. Quite comfortable, that seat at the top of the magical world."
Harry, Dumbledore, and Voldemort—everyone's faces turned ashen.
They'd forgotten to think, confronted with a reality that flew diagonally upward, surpassing even worst-case scenarios.
"Yes—I conquered France and Germany's magical worlds. Now every Ministry official without exception is my servant. They'd laugh and die if I told them to—obedient corpse puppets. And Ireland has already been seized by my agents."
"How terrible... Mirabel, what have you done!"
Dumbledore's indignation didn't reach Mirabel.
She laughed it off again and continued:
"Do you understand, Voldemort? This is the difference between you and me. While you chased one tiny glass orb, I obtained three magical worlds."
Mirabel spoke triumphantly and trampled the glass fragments on the floor.
Despite the life-or-death struggle over that prophecy, its end was anticlimactic.
"And with this, your entire year ends in waste."
"...!"
"How does it feel, Voldemort? Having treasure you pursued for a year stolen before your eyes. Rather like following a treasure map desperately to find the treasure, only for the box to say 'the real treasure was the adventure along the way'?"
"You... wretch...!"
"Now, now, don't get so angry. Your blood pressure's rising so much you're turning into an octopus."
The more Voldemort raged, the more Mirabel's delight grew.
Harry remembered.
Yes, this was Mirabel. This was exactly Mirabel Beresford.
Endlessly mounting 'malice'! Something the fake lacked that only the real possessed!
"Mirabel... what do you intend? After obtaining three magical worlds, will you take Britain next?"
"No, Dumbledore."
"What!?"
To Dumbledore's question, Mirabel gave the unexpected answer of 'NO.'
To the uneasy Dumbledore, Mirabel returned her face to seriousness and spoke:
"Say, Dumbledore... don't you think Britain's current magical world is too rotten?"
"...?"
"This past year, you must have experienced the current Ministry's corruption to exhaustion. No, not just the Ministry—the hopeless decadence of this entire magical world."
Those words were facts he didn't want to acknowledge.
The Ministry had turned from truth out of power lust, undermining their own side.
Even the entire magical world supported this.
Harry and Dumbledore had been shown this disgrace exhaustively this past year.
"Rotten branches must be cut off. But if rotted from the roots, what should one do?"
"...Y-you don't mean..."
"Don't you think 'the entire tree must be replaced'?"
This was no joke, everyone thought.
Their spines froze. Every hair stood on end.
This woman—surely not... of all things... surely not!
"Therefore I decided—the things that built the current magical world must be burned away once."
"Absurd! Such a thing!"
"It can be done. I can do it now! Ireland, France, Germany! Using three nations' magical worlds and their full military might to burn Britain's magical world to ashes!"
Madness!
This was truly endless madness!
An ideal world! An ideal nation! Ideals for ideals' sake!
For that, she'd trample everything, ravage everything, not hesitating to create countless tragedies!
"The magical world is rotten to the core. Probably from the moment Hogwarts' founders quarreled long ago! Perhaps even before! To correct this and make it normal, there's no choice but to end Britain's magical world itself once!"
"You fool! Foolish... so foolish, Beresford! This magical world... the history countless great predecessors built... you'll burn it all!?"
"Yes! Gryffindor, Hufflepuff! Ravenclaw, and Slytherin! I'll erase all past fools from history and return everything to blank slate! And begin anew... an ideal magical nation built by Mirabel's hand, where only the chosen live!"
—She's insane!
Everyone was now certain from their hearts!
This transcended dimensions of dark factions, justice, or evil!
What was this... what was this 'Something' in a girl's form!?
"You're mad... you're insane, Beresford!"
"Wrong. If I'm mad in this world where everything is mad, then I alone am sane."
No thought existed in Mirabel Beresford that she might be wrong.
Always right was she, and those opposing her were the mistaken ones.
She believed this and never wavered. Never faltered. Never hesitated.
Once she decided this was correct, even if mistaken, she'd advance regardless and forcibly transform error into correctness.
This girl possessed such madness.
"Don't you think it strange? Do you truly think the magical world's current state is correct? A minority existing at ratios of one in several hundred forming small communities in each nation, repeating incest, genetically degrading, slowly rotting away. Incompetents chosen only by blood proliferate, crushing future prospects, not even uniting against external enemies but crushing each other. A weak species that would have perished without accepting Muggle-borns, yet turning from this fact, still repeating past mistakes and following a path of decline. That's the current magical world. The truth of the world built by foolish predecessors you call great."
With even anger seeping into those eyes, Mirabel spoke.
The cancer cell called blood purism. Past fools who never removed it. Both equally targets of fury.
Eliminate Muggle-borns? What foolishness.
What future or development could come from repeated incest?
If they permitted such things, the only future remaining for wizards would be extinction.
At this rate, wizards would perish before their nation!
How long—
—How long would they cherish this rotten nation and let their people rot!?
"The magical world must change. No, I will change it. I'll destroy ancient history and move the stagnant magical world myself."
"Foolishness! How many people will be sacrificed in that process! How many innocent citizens will weep! You can understand this!"
At Mirabel's argument, Dumbledore exposed his anger.
This girl might actually accomplish it.
But no matter how monstrously genius she was, she couldn't manage everything without sacrifice.
That revolution would see countless blood and tears flow!
To Dumbledore's shout, however, Mirabel returned an even angrier gaze.
"You would say that?"
"...What?"
"I'm asking if you would say that. The man who possessed talent and wisdom to govern and guide the magical world yet entrusted it to an incompetent like Fudge... The man who condoned corruption and kept fleeing responsibility... the man without even the spine to shoulder one magical world—can you criticize me, Mirabel!? Albus Dumbledore!"
This was condemnation born from recognizing Dumbledore.
Fury born from considering him worthy of the magical world's pinnacle.
An outpouring of anger at a man who kept fleeing.
"I have it. The resolve and power to shoulder everything in the magical world and build an ideal world beyond blood, tears, and sacrifice. No matter how many sacrifices, I can dye myself in blood and build an ideal future. What about you, Dumbledore? Can you declare you can do it? Do you have the strength to bear countless responsibilities and sacrifices, perhaps laugh them off, trample them, and still keep walking?"
"...!"
"—If you cannot, then keep quiet with your fingers in your mouth... you coward who only wants to remain a good person. The world should be ruled by Mirabel alone."
Persuasion wouldn't reach Mirabel anymore. Words wouldn't arrive.
To her, she alone was justice, and everything else mere obstructive noise.
Dumbledore twisted his face in grief and fury, grinding his teeth.
"Regrettable... Mirabel... truly regrettable. I was pleased, thinking you'd understood friendship's... bonds' importance. I held hope in that double girl's kindness... But you haven't changed at all! No, you've become an even more wicked existence!"
"'Friendship,' you say... Kukuku. How worthless, truly worthless, Dumbledore. Why don't you understand such things only weaken people?"
"Then what of Edith!? What was your relationship with that girl shedding tears there!?"
Dumbledore shouted with fury ready to cast spells.
Mirabel reacted by glancing at Edith as if just noticing, turning emotionless eyes toward her.
What emotion filled that gaze toward her, only Mirabel knew.
But Mirabel returned her gaze to Dumbledore and spoke dismissively:
"...Ah yes... though halfheartedly, my four years as a student were reasonably enjoyable. But ultimately just a side benefit during a preparation period for gathering strength... nothing I feel great value in."
"—'Playing friends' is over now."
Edith was stunned.
Her friendship with Double Mirabel had been real.
Even if the form was false, genuine bonds existed there.
But with the real Mirabel—was it false?
Tears spilled, her heart screamed.
Stop already—she didn't want to see or hear anything more.
But without concern for such an Edith, Mirabel faced Dumbledore.
"Have you fallen so far, Mirabel Beresford!"
"I haven't fallen! I've transcended!"
Dumbledore drew his wand, Mirabel extended her hand.
Exploding light.
Magic released from both arms and wand collided centrally, resounding thunderously.
"—Wandless magic...!?"
"Tepid, so tepid, Dumbledore! Is this the extent of a great wizard!?"
Toward the mockingly sneering Mirabel, destructive magic flew from the opposite direction.
A strike with tremendous power.
But Mirabel laughed and silently activated shield magic, deflecting it.
"Interesting, using magic specialized in destruction. An improved development of Expulso? You've learned a bit, haven't you?"
Taking absolutely no damage, Voldemort groaned frustratedly at Mirabel.
Mirabel floated in midair without a broom and looked down at everyone on the ground.
"Hmm... a bit too much trash. Shall I clean up first?"
With a nasty grin, Mirabel twisted her mouth into a crescent and distorted it with cruel joy.
Then she raised her hand to the void and summoned golden-gleaming flames.
Dumbledore, Voldemort, Lupin, and Kingsley hastily cast shield spells, but that wasn't her target.
"Fiendfyre!"
With her declaration, flames released in all directions.
But they avoided Harry, Dumbledore, and Edith, instead latching onto the fallen Death Eaters!
Rodolphus!
Rabastan!
Antonin! Walden!
Augustus! Mulciber!
Lucius, Crabbe, Goyle, Nott!
Avery, Jugson!
Countless other Death Eaters!
Even the already-deceased Bellatrix!
In moments the Department of Mysteries was engulfed in flames, the flame-wrapped Death Eaters screaming their death throes.
Excessive attack on already-defeated losers who'd lost fighting power!
Harry grimaced at that cruelty, exposing his disgust.
"Ahahahahahaha! How's that—cleaned up nice and tidy! Trash is best incinerated!"
"You wretch!!"
That attack killed nearly all Death Eaters.
Only Lucius, Walden, Augustus, and Yaxley survived—four.
The dozens of Death Eaters here had become just four.
Even they bore ugly burns on faces and arms—wounds from Fiendfyre that would never heal.
Voldemort raged at this and fired the Killing Curse.
But Mirabel swatted it down like shooing an insect.
"Why, Mirabel... why kill them...? They had no fighting strength left...!"
"That's a foolish question, Dumbledore. Do you ask 'why burn burnable trash'?"
"—!"
"No reason needed to burn trash. I'll dispose of every last piece of outdated blood-purist garbage... no exceptions."
Dumbledore believed even any person deserved a chance to start over.
That's why he'd overlooked former Death Eaters like Lucius returning to normal life.
But Mirabel considered that the mistake.
Showing mercy made them arrogant. Giving compassion made them repeat.
What they deserved wasn't sympathy but merciless ending. That was fitting.
"But such people tend to live long. If only he hadn't dodged, he wouldn't have had to suffer."
Mirabel generated golden lightning in her hand, crackling sharply.
Not the current the double used that merely incapacitated—clearly lethal current meant to kill.
"Die! Lucius Malfoy!"
She released golden lightning from her hand.
Lightning-speed strike! Therefore impossible to dodge or defend!
But that attack was blocked by shield magic.
Defense that absolutely couldn't have made it if deployed after firing.
Meaning the shield spell was already protecting.
"Harry Potter... what are you doing?"
Harry had shielded Lucius.
Raising the Elder Wand, breathing roughly, glaring at Mirabel.
In those eyes unmistakably shone green light of justice.
"I don't understand... this man made you suffer terribly too. No, not just him but his son as well. Why would you protect him?"
"Yes, I hate this man too! I want to punch him until his face swells! But that doesn't mean I should kill him!"
"Hmph, same as always. Your habit of helping people remains, I see."
Speaking mockingly, Mirabel extended her hand toward Harry.
But someone moved before that magic released.
Dumbledore and Voldemort drew their wands to face Mirabel.
Dumbledore considered:
Voldemort... and Mirabel.
Both equally dangerous existences.
If he didn't stop them here and now, the magical world's tomorrow would be lost.
Then he must stand.
As one person protecting the magical world.
As Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry's Headmaster.
Above all, as Albus Dumbledore.
Absolutely wouldn't let them destroy the magical world.
Wouldn't let them pluck away hope for the future.
Voldemort considered:
Dumbledore and Harry Potter were enemies to defeat.
But more dangerous than either was that devil.
If Mirabel Beresford wasn't stopped, everything the magical world built would end.
Then he'd destroy both.
Dumbledore obstructing his path of supremacy, and Harry Potter, the boy in the prophecy.
And above all, that supremely arrogant golden devil.
And he'd teach them: he was Lord Voldemort... the magical world's terror.
Seeing those two, Mirabel smiled with warped belligerence.
Facing these two simultaneously—how interesting things had become.
But this was convenient.
The magical world's guardian, Dumbledore.
Voldemort upholding old ideology.
Their standing before her was inevitable, fated.
Then she must sever it here. All calamitous roots.
"Tom... Mirabel... That you entered wicked paths is also my mistake. Therefore I must stop you. To sever the wicked chain, I'll sever your ambitions here."
Dumbledore's face transformed from its usual gentleness to demonic.
Removing his mask as kind teacher, he steeled resolve to strike down former students for the future.
"Those who defy the Dark Lord always meet cruel ends. And today, you'll join those pitiable ranks. The fate of those who opposed me... prove it with your bodies."
Space around Voldemort distorted as ominous air overflowed.
The magical world's terror—Harry felt his spine chill knowing the Dark Lord incarnate would finally unleash full power.
"Very well, come at me. Symbol of justice Dumbledore, symbol of evil Voldemort. I'll erase you both with these hands and begin from here. The new magical world history that Mirabel builds—!"
Mirabel released golden flames from her entire body as sage and emperor each raised wands under their convictions.
Harry could only watch anymore.
Yet even so, he understood one thing.
It was beginning now...
A terrible battle probably no one had seen or experienced.
A struggle at the pinnacle among fearsome wizards who could each alter the magical world's future.
A battle at the summit beyond his imagination—!
Mirabel extended her hand.
Dumbledore aimed his wand.
Voldemort swung his wand.
And then—
—The entire Ministry shook like an earthquake.
***
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