The morning after Mirabel's multi-layered lightning attack.
Harry and his comrades had gathered in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
No, it wasn't just Harry and his friends.
There were students who had escaped from Beauxbatons, surviving Aurors, and wizards who could not align themselves with Mirabel's ideology. Every remaining anti-Mirabel faction in the British magical world was now assembled here.
Of course, "every" did not include Voldemort's faction. To begin with, 90% of them were no longer alive.
And the number of wizards gathered here—was far too few.
This was because the majority of people living in the British magical world supported Mirabel.
She did not harm them. On the contrary, she guaranteed the rights of Muggle-borns and had defeated Voldemort, the magical world's greatest enemy.
She purged the corrupt Ministry of Magic and ushered in a new era of reform.
A savior born of convenience—a Deus Ex Machina.
A being who appears in a hopelessly entangled situation and, with overwhelming power, resolves everything in an instant—an absolute force sent by the gods.
From a narrative perspective, such a development would be third-rate at best.
It would never be praised as a clever solution.
But that dissatisfaction comes from readers or audiences observing from the outside.
It's criticism from the viewpoint of the gods.
For those living in that world and living through that era, the quality of the story itself doesn't matter.
No matter how convenient or how poorly written the narrative is, if someone appears to save them, then that person is undeniably a savior.
That is why they supported Mirabel.
They blindly believed in this overly convenient absolute figure who had suddenly appeared.
And in truth, there is no fault in that as human behavior.
It is a basic truth of human nature to support those who save them.
—If that person is truly a savior, that is.
But Mirabel Beresford was no savior.
Her true nature was farther from good than anyone else, and closer to evil than anything else.
She was a deranged tyrant. A calamity greater than Voldemort.
There was no way they could hand the magical world over to someone like her.
That resolve drove Dumbledore to make his final stand.
"Everyone, thank you for answering the call of this old fool."
Dumbledore expressed his heartfelt gratitude.
What lay ahead was a battle with almost no chance of victory.
A clash with a fearsome, overwhelming force that had crushed Voldemort's faction to dust.
A horde of vampires, almost immortal.
An endless army of golems, born from nothing.
Undead risen from death, bringing with them ruin. A Muggle army, sowing destruction with its devastating weaponry.
Skilled wizards and magical creatures like dragons.
Dark wizards who had once made the world tremble, and presiding over them all—the Golden Tyrant.
Just listing them sounded like a bad joke. It felt like a farce.
To face such an opponent was as good as being told to "go and die."
And yet, despite this, there were still those who gathered here.
For that, Dumbledore felt a profound sense of joy.
"You may already know, but the Ministry of Magic has been destroyed by Mirabel Beresford.
The giants, werewolves, and Dementors have been wiped out, completely erased from Britain.
The Death Eaters and kidnappers who had sided with Voldemort have been slaughtered almost to the last man."
Even just stating these facts was enough to feel the terror of the demon's deeds.
These were unprecedented acts of evil in the history of the magical world.
That such things could be carried out was proof of Mirabel's monstrous nature.
"And now, she has issued a call for Hogwarts to surrender.
She says that if we surrender without resistance, she will not deal with us harshly."
Mirabel's goal was to create a new magical society where only the exceptional would live.
That was why Hogwarts, which housed many talented individuals, had not yet been attacked.
While she might destroy the school of Hogwarts itself, she still wished to preserve the lives of the wizards within it.
This was, in essence, an act of extreme arrogance—a final show of mercy from Mirabel.
"However, I have decided that we cannot entrust the magical world to her.
I have resolved to make one last stand of resistance."
If they allowed Mirabel to take control, she might actually succeed.
That woman had a bizarre talent for stomping on processes and only producing "results."
She had a strange fate, a power envied by every ruler in history—a destiny that led her to success in all things.
But she ignored the process.
She had no regard for the people who were sacrificed along the way. She paid no attention to their suffering.
If they handed over the magical world to her, then in the name of building a new era, she would create countless tragedies.
"For the greater good."
It was the philosophy that Dumbledore himself had once shared with Gellert Grindelwald in his youth.
It was the foolish idealism of someone too immature to think deeply about the consequences.
To achieve a greater good, any means was justifiable. Even if sacrifices were made, it was a necessary price to pay.
It was a naive dream they had shared back then.
But back then, he hadn't seen what lay at his feet.
He had not considered that those who would be sacrificed were innocent, powerless people.
And in the end, their reckless dream had trampled over his sister's life.
…Even now, he dreamed of that moment, the worst mistake of his past.
There had been no reason for Ariana to be sacrificed.
There had been no justification for his kind-hearted sister to die.
All of it was a tragedy born from the arrogance of one foolish man.
"Our chances of victory are slim. Now that we've chosen to stand against her, that girl will show us no mercy."
And now, the nightmare of that day had returned across generations, standing before him once again.
Mirabel Beresford was, in essence, a mirror of his younger self.
She was the continuation of the dream he had shared with his old friend.
That was why he had to stop her.
As someone who had once shared the same ideals.
As a teacher.
And, above all, as Albus Dumbledore.
He had fled many times before.
But this time, there was no path of retreat.
He could not run from this battle.
The morning after Mirabel's multi-layered lightning strike operation.
Harry and the others were gathered in the Great Hall of Hogwarts.
No, it wasn't just Harry and his friends.
Students who had fled from Beauxbatons, surviving Aurors, and wizards who couldn't align themselves with Mirabel's ideology — all the anti-Mirabel forces still remaining in Britain's wizarding world were present here.
Of course, saying "all" does not include the followers of Voldemort. The vast majority of them, about 90%, were no longer alive.
But even with all those who opposed Mirabel gathered here, their numbers were painfully small.
This was because most of the British wizarding community supported Mirabel.
They saw her as someone who wouldn't harm them, someone who guaranteed the rights of Muggle-borns, and someone who had defeated Voldemort, the magical world's greatest enemy.
A leader who purged the corrupt Ministry of Magic and ushered in a new era.
A convenient savior, a "Deus ex Machina."
A godlike figure who suddenly appears in a tangled, seemingly unsolvable situation and resolves it with absolute power.
A savior too convenient, disregarding the established cause-and-effect flow of the story.
From a narrative standpoint, such a development might be seen as third-rate.
It would never be praised as a respectable means of resolution.
But that is a complaint only readers or spectators can make.
It's a grievance from the perspective of someone viewing the story from the outside.
For the people actually living in that world, immersed in its reality, the "quality" of the story is irrelevant.
Even if it's contrived, even if it's third-rate storytelling, if it saves them, then it is undoubtedly a "savior."
That is why people supported Mirabel.
They blindly believed in this overwhelmingly convenient, godlike being that had suddenly appeared.
And as human beings, that choice was by no means wrong.
It is only natural to support those who offer you salvation.
—But only if that being is truly a savior.
Mirabel Beresford was no savior.
Her true nature was further from "good" than anyone else, and closer to "evil" than anything else.
She was a mad tyrant. A calamity worse than Voldemort.
There was no way they could allow such a being to seize control of the wizarding world.
This resolve was what led Dumbledore to make his final stand.
"Everyone, I thank you for answering the call of this old man," Dumbledore said, his words filled with heartfelt gratitude.
What lay ahead was a battle with almost no chance of victory.
It was a clash with a terrifying force that had thoroughly crushed Voldemort's faction.
A swarm of nearly immortal vampires.
An endless legion of golems.
The risen dead, resurrected from death.
A Muggle military force capable of mass destruction.
Skilled wizards and magical creatures like dragons.
A dark sorcerer who had once made the world tremble, and above them all, the Golden Tyrant who ruled them.
To even speak of it sounded absurd, like some kind of twisted joke.
To oppose such a force was tantamount to being asked to "die."
Yet, Dumbledore was grateful that there were still people willing to gather and stand with him.
"You all may already know this, but the Ministry of Magic has been destroyed by Mirabel Beresford.
The giants, werewolves, and Dementors have all been exterminated and wiped out of Britain.
The Death Eaters who sided with Voldemort and the human traffickers have, for the most part, been completely slaughtered."
Simply recounting these facts was enough to highlight the acts of a true devil.
It was the worst atrocity in the history of the magical world.
And the one who had the power to carry it out was that demon — Mirabel.
"She even had the audacity to send a surrender demand to Hogwarts.
She says if we don't resist and comply, she won't treat us poorly."
Mirabel's goal was to create a new magical society in which only exceptional people would thrive.
That was why Hogwarts, home to so many promising talents, had not been attacked yet.
While she might eventually destroy the institution of Hogwarts itself, she wanted to preserve the wizards within it.
This "offer" was a supremely arrogant gesture — her final show of mercy.
"But I have decided that I cannot entrust the magical world to her.
I have resolved to mount one final resistance."
If Mirabel were allowed to rule, things might genuinely improve.
She had an uncanny talent for crushing the "process" and producing only the "results."
With an inexplicable force of fate, she succeeded where all past rulers had failed.
But she ignored the process.
She turned a blind eye to those who would be sacrificed along the way and disregarded their grief.
If the magical world were handed over to her, untold tragedies would be born as the foundation of a "new era."
"For the Greater Good."
It was the very ideology that Dumbledore himself had once shared with Grindelwald in his youth.
A naive and foolish dream born of immaturity.
For the "greater good," anything could be justified — even sacrifice.
But back then, he failed to see that those sacrifices would be innocent, powerless people.
And that foolish dream had ended with his sister's death.
To this day, it remained his most haunting mistake.
There had never been any reason for Ariana to die.
There was no justification for the death of his kind-hearted little sister.
That tragedy had been born entirely from the hubris of one foolish man.
"Our fight is one with slim odds of victory.
If we stand against her, that girl will show no mercy."
And now, that nightmare had returned, crossing generations to confront him once more.
Mirabel Beresford was, in essence, the very embodiment of his younger self.
The continuation of the dream he had once shared with a friend.
And precisely because of that, it was he who had to stop her.
As one who had once shared the same ideals.
As a teacher.
And above all, as Albus Dumbledore.
He had run away from many things in life, but from this battle, he would not flee.
"With that in mind, I ask you all this... Are you prepared to die for the magical world?"
At Dumbledore's question, everyone responded with their gazes alone.
They answered: "That goes without saying."
If they didn't have that resolve, they would not be here.
They would have long since fled.
Everyone here had accepted the dangers and the despair ahead.
Indeed, as Mirabel had pointed out, the world had its fair share of problems.
But even so, they loved it.
They loved this magical world.
That was why they were willing to risk their lives to protect it.
Seeing the courageous determination in their eyes, Dumbledore nodded deeply, moved by their resolve.
"Very well! I have seen your courage and accept it!
Then I have nothing more to say! Let us fight together for this magical world!
I ask that you entrust your courage and your lives to this old man!"
His words were met with thunderous cheers that filled the hall.
Their hearts were united as one. Their thoughts aligned.
"We will never surrender the world we were born and raised in to a demon like her!"
And so, the final battle began.
They would fight for their world, not for a convenient savior, but for the world they loved.
They would face overwhelming odds, knowing full well the cost.
But in the face of despair, they stood together.
United.
Determined.
Unyielding.
"And yet, this should have been in the Department of Mysteries... How did you even get it here?"
"Well, you see, just a few days ago, we secretly brought it over.
I was certain it would be absolutely essential for our fight against Mirabel.
Kingsley and Alastor truly did an outstanding job."
Harry's words were met with Dumbledore's playful response, his eyes twinkling mischievously.
It seemed they had transported it from the Ministry of Magic without permission.
No matter how necessary the act was, Dumbledore remained a man who could not be underestimated.
"However, with this method, we can defeat Mirabel, but we cannot defeat Voldemort."
The only mistake Mirabel made was hiding the Horcrux within her own body.
In other words, if they could throw her into the archway, the Horcrux inside her would be destroyed along with her.
But Voldemort was different. His Horcruxes were outside of him.
Even if they sent Voldemort's main body into the afterlife, he would still be able to return as long as his Horcruxes existed.
To vanquish the Dark Lord, every Horcrux had to be completely destroyed.
At this point, Dumbledore fell silent for a moment.
"...Professor?"
"...Harry, the truth is, the final Horcrux is right here in this room."
"Huh?"
"To be more precise, it is 'here'—standing right in front of me."
Harry could not comprehend what Dumbledore was saying.
He claimed it was right in front of him, but all that was there was empty space.
No, not empty. Harry was standing there.
But what did he mean by "standing here"? It sounded as though the Horcrux were a living being.
No... deep down, Harry already knew what Dumbledore was implying.
But his heart refused to accept it.
As if to confirm Harry's unspoken fear, Dumbledore continued speaking.
"When Voldemort tried to kill you as a baby... when your mother threw herself in front of you to shield you from the Killing Curse, that curse rebounded upon him. His soul was torn apart, and one fragment of it latched onto the only remaining living soul in that wreckage—yours."
"A piece of Voldemort's soul has lived inside you ever since."
"That piece is the reason you can speak Parseltongue, the reason for the mental link between you and Voldemort.
As long as that fragment of his soul is clinging to you, protected within you, Voldemort cannot be truly killed."
"...You understand now, don't you, Harry?
You are the final Horcrux.
The last one, which not even Mirabel herself has realized exists."
The final truth had now been revealed to Harry.
Edith didn't know.
It wasn't that she didn't know what was right.
Rather, she didn't know where her heart was leading her.
The dark clouds hanging over the wizarding world were finally starting to clear.
The dark faction led by Voldemort had been wiped out by the army led by Mirabel,
and the oppressed residents of the magical world welcomed this "savior" with open arms.
One after another, people who glimpsed her image in photographs were captivated.
It was as if they had been enchanted by a spell of devotion, gazing at her with adoration.
Her presence stirred something deep in people's hearts.
She seemed like a mother, a daughter, a sister, or a younger sibling.
She carved out an unshakable place in their minds as an ideal figure,
and, like a curse, she scorched away their reason.
Even from behind the glass of a photograph, Mirabel's presence pulled at people,
ensnaring them with a charm that devoured their souls.
At this point, her very existence had become a curse.
Her descent to this state—and her rise to this power—was complete.
But despite that, Edith was still searching for her own place in the world.
Ah, she had to admit it.
At some point, she had begun to believe that her true place was at Mirabel's side.
Her heart had found peace in that spot.
Even as she understood that Mirabel's path was one of tyranny, she still couldn't stop her heart from longing for it.
She couldn't stop herself from desiring to be by her side.
Perhaps, she thought, she had already fallen under Mirabel's spell.
"...Mirabel... What am I supposed to do?"
Standing on the balcony where she had once let go of Mirabel's hand, Edith muttered softly.
Ever since Mirabel had left, she had found herself returning to this spot.
Perhaps it was because she wanted to see the world as Mirabel had seen it.
She didn't want to betray Harry and the others.
She didn't want to trample on their sense of justice.
But just as much as she didn't want to betray them—
she still wanted to stand by Mirabel's side.
Even if it meant walking a mistaken path that would bring about countless tragedies.
"That is something you must decide for yourself, isn't it?
Don't you agree, Einagul?"
A voice echoed.
Startled, Edith's head shot up to the sky.
Hovering there, unchanged from how she had looked in fourth year,
was a girl who seemed to have stopped growing forever.
Her form was bathed in gold, radiant as the sun.
It was her.
It was her friend—Mirabel.
"Mirabel..."
"Having a late-night drink out here, are you? If Filch catches you, don't expect any sympathy."
With a carefree tone, Mirabel spoke as though she were casually chatting with an old friend after a long time apart.
Completely self-assured, as always.
Meanwhile, Edith's heart was pounding like a drum, and she could hardly maintain her composure in the face of this long-awaited reunion.
"Well, thanks to that, I didn't have to go through the trouble of sneaking into the school."
Mirabel spoke as if it were a joke and sat casually on the railing of the balcony.
She hadn't changed a bit.
But people are supposed to change.
The fact that Mirabel remained unchanged only made Edith feel, more deeply than anything, just how much she had changed.
That realization filled Edith with sorrow.
"What are you here for?"
"To hear your answer."
Her heart jolted.
She'd known this moment would come.
She'd known that, one day, she would have to make a choice.
And now, the moment she had feared for so long had finally arrived.
Seeing Edith's anxious expression, Mirabel's voice was so gentle, so tender, it was almost kind.
"Tomorrow, I will attack Hogwarts.
This castle is the last stronghold of the British wizarding world.
There is no option for me to let it stand."
"If you stay here, you will share Hogwarts' fate and meet your end alongside it."
"..."
"So, this is my final question to you...
Come with me, Edith Reinagel."
With those words, the golden girl extended her hand.
If Edith took that hand, it would be for the last time.
If she boarded this ship, it would be on the final voyage.
Unspoken but clear, that was the message conveyed by Mirabel's outstretched hand.
Edith stared at it, her eyes trembling with hesitation.
She knew.
This was the crossroads.
The choice she made here would determine everything about her future.
Edith closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.
Her answer was clear now.
Whether it was right or wrong, she didn't know.
It might be a mistake.
No, in the first place, there was never going to be a "right" answer.
No matter which path she chose, she would inevitably betray someone.
Even so...
Even so, I—
Edith opened her eyes.
And she made her choice.
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