After returning from Hogsmeade, the Halloween party held at Hogwarts was wonderful.
Carved jack-o'-lanterns adorned the Great Hall, and hundreds of bats fluttered through the ceiling. Orange streamers swept beneath the storm-patterned ceiling, and the tables were laden with an array of Halloween-themed pumpkin dishes, creating a spectacular sight.
Students in costumes began singing "Trick or Treat" in unison, and the exchange of candy commenced. After all, everyone had just returned from Hogsmeade carrying some kind of sweet. It was the perfect opportunity to celebrate Halloween.
And a few days later, the day everyone had been waiting for finally arrived: the first Quidditch match.
The weather was, to put it bluntly, awful.
The wind howled like a beast, rain hammered down like shotgun pellets, and thunder cracked through the air as if someone were firing cannons nearby. All the trees swayed like Whomping Willows, and umbrellas turned inside out in an instant.
Amidst this chaos, the highly anticipated match between Gryffindor and Slytherin was about to begin.
"Before the match, I'll cast a spell on all of you."
Suddenly, the Slytherin team's substitute, Mirabel, spoke up before the match. Her position was Seeker—the star role of Quidditch—which was Marcus's personal request.
The original Seeker, Malfoy, sat on the bench muttering, "If only my arm were a little better!" and was out for this match. There was nothing unusual about that.
Looking down at the cast on his arm with lingering regret, he sat alone on the bench, filled with a strange melancholy.
...Well, to be honest, everyone there knew his injury had long since healed, but Mirabel had probably kicked him out anyway to ensure victory.
It's hard to describe, but there's something about that guy that makes him seem destined to lose. Like having him on the team increases the chances of losing... like a "flag" in a game that's been set, bringing bad luck.
"Magic? But using enhancements for physical abilities is forbidden, right?"
"I'm not using anything that elaborate. It's just a simple way to transmit my thoughts to all of you."
As she spoke, she snapped her fingers.
Suddenly, a tingling sensation like an electric current ran through the heads of all the Slytherin team members, followed by their thoughts becoming crystal clear. It was as if a wall they hadn't even realized existed had suddenly been removed, giving them a sense of liberation.
And naturally, the voice of the spellcaster, Mirabel, boldly filled the space that had been cleared.
"How's that? Can you hear me clearly?"
"What?!"
"Whoa?!"
The sudden voice echoing in their heads caused players Montague and Adrian to jump.
This magic, "Disputatio Sense," is normally learned in sixth year, but Mirabel didn't care about such trivial details. It was a one-way telepathy spell that couldn't intercept the target's thoughts, making it somewhat inconvenient, but Mirabel had grown fond of it.
The ability to send instructions to someone instantly was simply amazing.
"Good, you can hear me. During this match, I will send instructions to all of you via telepathy. For this match only, consider me the commander, not Flint."
"...Marcus, is that really okay?"
Mirabel's words amounted to a de facto declaration of a captaincy change. Adrian, feeling a bit resentful, glanced at Marcus, but there was no hesitation on his face.
For victory, he had already abandoned any petty pride. He had staked everything on Mirabel.
"It's fine. Consider her words as my own."
"Alright... If you say so..."
Accepting Marcus's resolve, Adrian and the rest of the teammates stopped pressing the issue.
Indeed, to stand against Gryffindor—arguably the best team in Hogwarts history, they had no choice but to entrust their fate to Mirabel, their ace in the hole. And it was Marcus who had brought this wild card into the fold. For his sake, they couldn't afford to hesitate now.
Satisfied with their resolve, Mirabel continued.
"I'll communicate strategies and tactics during the match, but before that, there's one thing I need you to promise me. For this match only, you must completely refrain from any rough play that could be interpreted as cowardly."
"!"
The entire Slytherin team held their breath at Mirabel's words.
One of Slytherin's defining characteristics was their tendency to engage in rough play that walked the line between fair and foul. While it drew fierce criticism from other houses, it was also the strategy that had propelled this team to victory.
No matter what they said, no matter how much they were despised, they would do whatever it took to secure those two words: "Victory." That obsession had shaped their playing style. That was what made them the Slytherin team.
And Mirabel had just declared a ban on it.
"What nonsense! As long as we win, it doesn't matter how dirty we play! Win, and that's all that matters! You're no different from us in that regard!"
"So you're just another Gryffindor knight who values chivalry and sportsmanship, aren't you?!"
The inevitable outburst of dissatisfaction erupted.
But Mirabel's expression remained unwavering. She smiled defiantly and spoke in a voice that, despite the heavy rain, carried with surprising clarity.
"I am a believer in winning at all costs."
"What?"
"To crush their confidence, break their pride, trample their self-respect, and beat them so thoroughly they can't get back up—that's what I consider victory. That's why I don't want to give them any excuses. 'I lost because they played dirty,' 'If we'd fought fairly, we wouldn't have lost,' 'We would have won if it had been a fair fight,' 'We can win if we try again'... If you fight me, I won't give you any such escape routes."
With a beautiful yet cruel smile, the girl made her declaration.
What is complete victory? What is true defeat?
"To crush you utterly, leaving no room for excuses, no hope, no mercy. That is victory. That is the true way to win that all of you desire. ...Isn't that right?"
The players held their breath as the girl spoke in a clear, singing voice.
Yes, that was right. If they could defeat Gryffindor completely using fair means and achieve total victory, how much satisfaction and superiority would that bring?
"Then let's play along. Let's do it the way Gryffindor, who values chivalry, deserves. Let's adhere to their beloved sportsmanship and fair play, leaving no room for argument. Let's carve their ultimate defeat into their own arena, using their own methods. Only then will the taste of victory be truly sweet."
Someone swallowed hard.
And they looked around, asking with their eyes, "Who said she's a 'beautiful sportswoman'?"
Another player smiled wryly and answered with his eyes, "Sorry, that was me."
"Beautiful sportswoman? Chivalry? Where?"
This girl didn't have a shred of that spirit. She didn't care about respecting her opponent at all. All that existed within her was a cruel spirit that thought only of breaking the other person's heart.
"Do you have any objections?"
"No, none!"
All five players except Marcus answered Mirabel's question simultaneously and stood at attention.
Now they understood clearly! This was someone you couldn't defy! This was someone you couldn't make an enemy of!
"Very well. Let's go."
With that, Mirabel took her beloved broom, the Silver Arrow. In response, the Slytherin team members also took out their Nimbus 2001s and mounted them.
And they took flight! Soaring through the heavy rain, each took their designated positions.
Gryffindor also took their positions, and in the air, Mirabel and Harry faced off.
"Hey, Potter. Your glasses are wet and look uncomfortable."
"Beresford..."
Facing the golden girl who remained composed even in the downpour, Harry managed to utter a hoarse voice.
This moment had finally come. It had arrived.
Since the day he enrolled, he had always feared this deep down. He had wondered if he could win when the time came to fight.
And now, that opponent stood before him. The tyrant of Slytherin floated before him as his enemy.
He scolded his faltering heart and glared at Mirabel. It's okay, this is the Quidditch pitch in the sky. This is my field.
Sure, he had no chance of winning in magic or academics, but in a battle in the sky, he wouldn't lose to anyone.
"Good eyes. Only the truly exceptional can look like that—believing in their own skill and talent, never giving up no matter the opponent. And you have the remarkable talent to back that confidence. You might not believe it, Potter, but I truly admire people like you."
The whistle signaling the start of the match rang out, and the players moved in unison.
But Mirabel spoke as if none of that mattered.
"But I won't tolerate you thinking you can beat me. The top spot is always reserved for one person—Mirabel. You must understand that you are not the best rider at Hogwarts, but only second to me."
Due to the rain, Harry couldn't see, but Slytherin had already scored the first goal.
They moved sharply and quickly, as if the heavy rain didn't exist. They moved with the precision and accuracy of a single giant creature.
It was completely different from the usual Slytherin—completely controlled movements that were pushing Gryffindor into a corner.
Those movements seemed as though they were being guided by some invisible force.
"But there's no need to feel ashamed. Even if you can't beat me, the fact that you're an excellent rider is beyond doubt. Well, it's just that your opponent was too strong this time... I'll be the first to acknowledge your talent."
"Hmph, you sound like you've already won!"
"That's right, Potter. The outcome is decided the moment I'm here."
Harry glared at Mirabel, too focused on her to spare a thought for Gryffindor's dire situation below.
She's serious. This woman is genuinely, earnestly spouting this ridiculous nonsense.
As long as she's here, she's certain she'll win. No matter what happens, she's certain she can't lose.
Just as drinking cola inevitably leads to a burp, or breaking rules in front of McGonagall results in points being deducted, she doesn't even doubt her victory, seeing it as an inevitable outcome.
What arrogance! What self-importance! What hubris!
"Well, as things stand now, it's not even a contest."
"What do you mean?!"
"Your glasses are wet—you can't see anything, can you? You didn't even notice the Snitch flying behind me."
Harry gasped at Mirabel's words.
Looking back, he did indeed see a golden shadow behind Mirabel for an instant... or so he thought.
At the same time, a chill ran down his spine.
If what she said was true, then Mirabel could see the Snitch. She saw it and deliberately ignored it.
"Why did you let it go?"
"Of course, it's to show you that you're inferior to me. There's meaning in crushing you when you're at your best."
Mirabel smiled gently.
She was arrogant and selfish, but she was also somewhat generous and even showed kindness to those she recognized.
And Harry was undoubtedly one of those people.
However, in this sport, that generosity was never meant to please the opponent.
"First, do something about those glasses. If you ask Granger, she'll help you."
"...!"
It was humiliation!
Mirabel could have won at any time, but she chose not to! She didn't even try to catch the Snitch until Harry gave it his all!
He felt an urge to scream, "Don't underestimate me!" but he clenched his teeth and held back.
It was frustrating, but she was right.
"Time out! Come back, Harry!"
Called by Captain Oliver Wood, Harry glanced at Mirabel and immediately returned to the ground.
As she said, there was no chance of winning in this state. First, he had to create a situation where they could win.
(Hmph... Despite his face turning red with anger, he doesn't hesitate to take the best move to win. He's really something... Even without considering his role as the protagonist, he's worthy of praise.)
Mirabel smiled coolly and descended from the pitch.
There, Marcus and the rest of the team had already gathered, and they all smiled when they saw Mirabel.
"80 to 0. The gap is really widening."
"Yeah! We can win! We can win this match!"
The match was already becoming one-sided.
The Gryffindor team, unable to coordinate properly in the heavy rain, versus the Slytherin team, united by Mirabel's telepathy.
The gap between the two teams was now greater than ever, with an unprecedented difference between them.
At this point, the only chance for Gryffindor to turn the tide was for Harry, the Seeker, to catch the Snitch.
"But Mirabel, are you sure you're okay? Maybe we should have waited for Potter to be fully recovered before going for the Snitch..."
"Don't be such a killjoy, Flint. I'm actually looking forward to this battle with him. Even if we beat Potter with his foggy glasses, he's not worth a Weasley's pet rat."
Mirabel's assessment of Harry was completely honest and without any pretense.
That was precisely why she was looking forward to this battle with Harry.
As a Quidditch player, Mirabel was, in a way, a fan of Harry's.
...Well, a normal fan would never think of crushing their favorite player, of course.
"You just follow my instructions without worrying about anything. That's the best way to win."
"Yes... I believe you. Your words are absolute. Right, Mirabel?"
There is a proverb in a distant Asian island nation that says, "Pride comes before a fall." Or there is a metaphor that says, "You will be tripped up by your own feet."
Both are meant to caution against conceit, complacency, and arrogance.
If that is the case, then this girl, who is the epitome of conceit, must lose. If we follow logic, she should lose because of her complacency.
However, no dark clouds gather on Mirabel's horizon. There is only a brilliant path leading to victory.
Therefore, those who stand by Mirabel come to believe blindly that she is absolute.
"The match resumes! Let's go!"
The whistle blew, and the players returned to their positions.
Mirabel also took to the air and faced Harry once more.
"It seems your glasses are working properly this time, Potter."
"Yes. Thanks to Hermione."
Harry's glasses were now water-repellent, unlike before. This was due to Hermione's waterproof charm.
With the Gryffindor Seeker back in action, Mirabel's expression remained unchanged.
After all, she had been waiting for this moment.
But there was still more to do. There were still insects that needed to be eliminated.
The battle with Harry would have to wait.
Thunder roared, and Harry's eyes fixed on the top of the stands.
There was no need to wonder what had caught his attention.
It was the black dog... Sirius Black.
Watching him, Mirabel muttered, "It's about time."
"Potter."
"...What?"
"Five seconds. Stay focused."
"What?"
Before Harry could ask what she meant, he lost his voice.
Suddenly, all sound ceased, and the area grew dark.
Looking down, he saw over a hundred Dementors in their robes, and Mirabel diving toward them.
As he stared at the Dementors' faces hidden beneath their hoods, his consciousness began to fade, and a voice echoed in the depths of his mind.
It was the voice of a mother desperately pleading for the life of her infant—Harry—as she cried out against Voldemort.
While diving downward, Mirabel gathered her magic.
The reason Harry had panicked was because of the Dementors who had rudely entered the stadium.
Having been forbidden by Dumbledore to attack students, they were frustrated and saw the excitement of Quidditch as a feast.
And Harry was the most susceptible to their influence in this situation.
Mirabel estimated that it would take about five seconds for Harry to faint once the Dementors appeared.
If all the Dementors weren't eliminated by then, Harry would faint, and Slytherin's victory would be automatic.
But Mirabel didn't want such a victory. She would never allow her own victory to be tarnished.
"Hmph! So you've come, you filthy beggars!"
Five seconds... It was far too short a time.
Even if Harry doesn't catch the Snitch, he won't wake up for a while, and the Nimbus 2000 will shatter upon impact.
To prevent that, she needed more than five seconds.
And Mirabel had exactly that time.
"You worthless, filthy insects... How dare you try to tarnish Mirabel's victory..."
That was a year ago.
It was when she used the incompetent teacher Lockhart to retrieve a book from the restricted section.
The book she obtained was a forbidden text detailing the Time-Turner—a device that could rewind time.
Mirabel saw it and simply believed she could do it.
Because the Time-Turner exists. If it exists, then whoever created it must have reached the pinnacle of time magic.
If it exists, it must be possible. If others could do it, there was no way Mirabel couldn't.
With that overwhelming self-confidence as her foundation, she completed it.
A magic that controls not just "time," but the entire "world."
"You have no sense of your place!"
In an instant, everything froze.
Harry, who was about to faint, Dumbledore, who rushed in panic to the stadium, and the players.
The Dementors, the audience, even the rain and wind were motionless.
This was the magic Mirabel had researched and developed from the Time-Turner—the ultimate taboo of manipulating time.
Now, this 'world' belongs only to Mirabel! Only she is allowed to move—her own 'world'!
And within that frozen moment, Mirabel unleashed the spell she had devised specifically for fighting Dementors.
"Invadere Patronum!"
An evolved version of the Patronus Charm—the "Offensive Patronus"!
It appeared behind Mirabel and revealed its full form, which had not been shown inside the train.
Silver hair flowing down to her back, a gentle-looking face.
Slender, supple limbs.
...It was undeniably human.
Guardian spirits change their forms based on the caster's personality, memories, and emotions, taking the shapes of various animals.
Among them, the guardian spirit Mirabel had summoned took the form of a human... a young girl.
"Devour them completely, 'Retis'!"
Calling out the name of the guardian spirit without self-awareness, she directed it toward the center of the Dementors.
And then, a single strike!
The slender arms of the silver-haired girl pierced the abdomen of a Dementor.
"Get out of the way... You're in my way... Your appearance, your movements, your way of life, your nature, your existence—everything about you grates on me. You worthless pests, worse than trash, blocking Mirabel's path..."
The guardian spirit's attack continued.
Moving her delicate body as if dancing, she sliced through the Dementors one after another.
In the frozen world, the abhorrent creatures could not even resist and were torn apart.
"Get out of the way, get out of the way, get out of the way..."
Would anyone who witnessed this scene be able to believe it?
A young silver-haired girl, barely ten years old, dancing and dancing, trampling the Dementors.
"Get out of the way, get out of the way..."
The golden girl sang.
The creatures said to be the most despicable beings on earth were helplessly trampled.
"Get out of the way, get out of the way, get out of the way, get out of the way, get out of the way ..."
She darted through the hundreds of Dementors, striking one after another with her magic.
Once she confirmed that all the Dementors had been attacked, Mirabel dismissed her guardian spirit and declared at the eight-second mark:
"—And time begins to move again."
At that moment, no one could comprehend what had happened.
For Mirabel, those eight seconds were an instant for everyone else.
In the blink of an eye, all the Dementors were flung outward as if they had been hit by a car, their bodies flying off the perimeter of the stadium.
Dumbledore: "What exactly happened?! I tried to summon my Patronus, but the Dementors had already been blown away. I know you probably don't understand what I'm saying, but I don't understand what happened either... My head is spinning... It wasn't hypnosis or superhuman speed or anything like that. I caught a glimpse of something much more terrifying..."
Passing Commentary: "That's a type of magic I've never seen before! I didn't actually see it, but it felt more powerful than any magic I've ever encountered! Just by hearing the engine sound, I could tell it was a bulldozer!"
Author's Note:
┌┤´д`├┐＜ Thank you for reading!
This time, we brought you a Quidditch match. Mirabel, despite her appearance, actually holds Harry in high regard and likes him. On the other hand, her evaluation of the Dementors is the worst possible—she despises their very existence.
To be honest, even if the Dementors didn't do anything wrong, she'd find a reason to beat them up.
And this time, we got to see a new spell and the complete version of the Patronus.
...Yeah, it feels like we went all out.
Stopping time and rushing in is a man's romance. I couldn't control my desire.
DIO-sama, I respect you.
By the way, Malfoy was trying to scare Harry by disguising himself as a Dementor and got beaten up alongside the real ones. Serves him right.
Below is an explanation of the original magic that appeared this time:
"Disputatio Sense" This is an original magic that is supposed to exist in this world—it was not created by Mirabel. It's a magic that allows you to send a one-way telepathic message to a target; communication in reverse is impossible. Therefore, you cannot read the other person's mind. Also, since it's one-way, it's impossible for both parties to activate the magic simultaneously and have a conversation telepathically. This spell is normally learned in sixth year, but such details were irrelevant to Mirabel.
"Time Stay" This spell was created by Mirabel in homage to DIO. She studied the Time-Turner and, with no logical basis for believing she could do it, somehow managed to create this mysterious spell. To be honest, the reason she studied devices meant to "turn back time" and ended up creating a spell to "stop time" was a side effect of her research. Homura has proven that when you try to obtain magic that turns back time, you can also stop time as a side effect. The maximum time that can be stopped is eight seconds. I'm not sure if that's long or short. The name comes from "Time-Turner" (turning back time) and "Time Stay" (time stagnation). The fact that it's written entirely in English is also influenced by Part 7 of "THE WORLD" (It's my time).
"Invadere Patronum (Offensive Patronus)" This is magic created by Mirabel that produces an "offensive Patronus" to attack opponents. Unlike normal Patronuses, it actively attacks opponents and has physical destructive power. Currently, it's the only spell capable of "killing" Dementors, and interestingly, this was the first original spell Mirabel ever created. The Patronus appears as a young girl around ten years old, clad in silver. Given Mirabel's ultra-aggressive nature, one might expect a ferocious monster to emerge, but why it took this form remains a mystery. This is a rare example where the Patronus and the caster's personality are completely mismatched.