The morning after Mirabelle's multiple lightning operations.
Harry and the others had been gathered in Hogwarts' Great Hall.
No, not just Harry and his companions.
Students who had escaped from Beauxbatons, surviving Aurors.
Wizards who couldn't align with Mirabelle's ideology—all anti-Mirabelle forces remaining in the British wizarding world had gathered here.
Of course, though they said "all," the Voldemort faction wasn't present. Originally, ninety percent of them were no longer in this world.
And the wizards here were—far, far too few in number.
That was because the vast majority of people living in the British wizarding world were pro-Mirabelle.
An existence that didn't lay hands on them, moreover guaranteed the rights of Muggle-borns, and would defeat Voldemort, the wizarding world's greatest enemy.
A leader who would purge the thoroughly corrupted Ministry and bring fresh winds.
A conveniently heroic deus ex machina.
A situation tangled like thread and fallen into difficulty. The absolute being God prepared who suddenly appeared there to resolve everything with absolute power.
An all-too-convenient savior who ignored all prior causality and flow.
Viewed as a story, it was certainly third-rate.
Not a commendable resolution method at all.
But that was dissatisfaction only readers or audiences watching the story could express.
Complaints from God's perspective.
For people living now, residing in that world, how the story looked from outside didn't matter at all.
Whether it was convenient or a third-rate script, if it rescued them, it was undeniably a savior.
Therefore, they supported Mirabelle.
They blindly believed in this all-too-convenient absolute being who had suddenly appeared.
This wasn't wrong as humans.
Supporting those who helped you was natural truth.
—If only it were truly a savior.
Mirabelle Beresford was no savior.
Her true nature was farther from good than anyone else, closer to evil than anything else.
She was a mad tyrant. A disaster exceeding even Voldemort.
They couldn't hand the wizarding world to such a thing.
That resolve made Dumbledore decide on final resistance.
"Everyone, thank you for answering this old man's call."
Dumbledore expressed heartfelt gratitude.
What awaited them was a battle with vanishingly slim odds of victory.
A clash with the terrifying military force that had thoroughly crushed even Voldemort's faction.
A swarm of vampires nearly immortal.
Infinitely generated golems.
Inferi risen from death. Muggle armies bringing great destruction.
Veteran wizards and magical creatures including dragons.
The dark great wizard who once made the world tremble, and the golden tyrant overseeing them all.
Just saying it aloud seemed absurd. It could only be some kind of joke.
Facing such things was essentially an act equal to saying 'please die.'
Despite that, Dumbledore felt joy that people had gathered like this.
"As you likely know, the Ministry of Magic was destroyed by Mirabelle Beresford's hand.
The giant clan, werewolf clan, and Dementors were all eradicated, completely disappearing from Britain.
I hear the Death Eaters who sided with Voldemort, along with the snatchers, were mostly killed."
Just explaining it was describing demonic acts.
The worst deeds unprecedented in wizarding history.
Being able to execute such things—that was that demon. That was Mirabelle.
"And she has issued a surrender demand to Hogwarts as well.
Saying she won't treat us badly if we obey without resistance."
Mirabelle's objective was creating a new magical society where superior humans lived.
That was precisely why Hogwarts, holding many talented people, hadn't yet been attacked.
Though Mirabelle would erase the school of Hogwarts itself once, she wanted to keep the wizards there alive as much as possible.
This was, so to speak, the supremely arrogant concession Mirabelle had shown, and her final mercy.
"However, I believed we must not entrust the wizarding world to her.
I resolved on final resistance."
If they let Mirabelle rule, perhaps it really might work out.
That woman had a strange talent for trampling the process underfoot with laughter and producing only 'results.'
She had a mysterious destiny power that led all things to success, which past rulers would endlessly envy.
But she didn't look at the process.
She didn't lend an ear to those who became sacrifices in the governing process, to their laments.
Once they handed the wizarding world to that woman, many tragedies would be produced as the foundation of a new era.
'For the greater good.'
The ideology of his youth that he'd discussed with Grindelwald.
The foolish thinking of an immature person who didn't think deeply.
If it was for the greater good, anything was permissible. Even if sacrifices resulted, that couldn't be helped.
When he'd discussed dreams like that, his past self hadn't seen what lay at his feet.
He hadn't considered that the sacrifices ahead were innocent, powerless people.
And their foolish dream had met its end by trampling his sister's life.
...Even now, he dreamed of it—the worst mistake of his past.
There had been no reason for Ariana to become a sacrifice.
There had been no logic requiring his kindhearted sister to die.
It was all a tragedy beyond salvation, born solely from this foolish man's arrogance.
"Victory is unlikely. Since we've opposed her, that girl will show no mercy."
And the nightmare of that day had now appeared before him again across generations.
Mirabelle Beresford was exactly his younger self.
The continuation of the dream he'd discussed with his friend that day.
Therefore, he had to stop her.
As one who once held the same志. As a teacher.
Above all, as Albus Dumbledore.
Though he'd continued fleeing, this battle was one he couldn't run from.
"On top of that, I want to ask you all... do you have the resolve to die for the wizarding world?"
To Dumbledore's question, everyone present answered with their eyes.
That question was pointless now.
If they didn't have it, they wouldn't be here. They would have already fled.
They were here having resolved themselves to the danger and despair ahead.
True, as Mirabelle said, it was a world with various problems.
But still, they loved it here.
They loved this wizarding world.
Therefore, they could fight risking their lives.
Looking around at those courageous eyes, Dumbledore nodded with deep emotion.
"I understand! I've certainly received everyone's courage!
Then I'll say no more! Let's fight together, for this wizarding world!
Please entrust your courage and lives to this old man!"
To Dumbledore's words, a great cheer filling the hall responded.
Everyone's hearts were united. Their feelings aligned.
They wouldn't yield this world where they were born and raised to a demon!
In Hogwarts' Great Hall, a grand party was being held.
The room was gaudily decorated, and lavish dishes lined the tables.
Order members, remaining students, and teachers behaved even more cheerfully than usual, savoring the cuisine.
But everyone present knew this was false brightness.
The period Mirabelle had given Hogwarts for a response was just one day.
That meant once tomorrow came, she would attack.
And once battle began, many casualties would surely result.
Some among them... at worst, all of them might be silent corpses by tomorrow.
In other words, a last supper. Merely false bravado to dispel fear.
In the Headmaster's office away from that Great Hall, Harry and Edith had been summoned.
Probably to discuss strategy before the final battle.
Harry had deep ties with Voldemort, and Edith with Mirabelle.
Therefore, Dumbledore had judged these two held the key to battle.
"Um, Professor."
"Yes, Harry?"
"Well... can we win? No... do we even have a chance of winning?"
Harry's question was surely what everyone was thinking.
They were resolved to die in battle. But they didn't want to die in vain.
If there was a chance at victory, they wanted to know it properly.
To this, Dumbledore smiled gently.
"Oh, of course I intend to win, Harry."
"How? Those two are, well, immortal, aren't they? How do we defeat them?"
Mirabelle and Voldemort, though different in form, were both monsters who had stepped onto the path of immortality.
Fighting either one, they absolutely couldn't win without any countermeasures.
Of course, Dumbledore knew this as well.
Therefore, he had properly prepared countermeasures.
"As I said before, Voldemort can be defeated by destroying all his Horcruxes.
And in my estimation, only one Horcrux remains.
And that final one is very close to us."
They had a plan for killing Voldemort.
Harry felt relieved at Dumbledore's assertion, but immediately recalled the other monster.
Voldemort was understood. But what about Mirabelle?
That girl who was simply immortal with no Horcruxes—what could be done about her?
"Mirabelle is certainly a more difficult opponent than Voldemort.
Fighting her head-on, killing her is nearly impossible.
Even if we behead her or tear her entire body apart, she won't die.
...In my estimation, since even the Killing Curse doesn't work, she's probably using a Horcrux.
Moreover, considering that regenerative power inexplicable even for a vampire... the Horcrux is likely the Philosopher's Stone.
And most unfortunately, hidden within her body."
Complete immortality didn't exist.
But the current Mirabelle was infinitely close to it.
Additionally, removing her immortality, she was troublesome simply for being strong.
Even if she were just a mortal human without immortality, defeating her would be extremely difficult.
"However, as long as 'death' exists even for her, there is something utterly unavoidable."
Dumbledore went to the back of the room and placed his hand on something there.
Something large, hidden by cloth.
Why couldn't he stop the cold sweat just from looking at it?
'Something' was there. Something more terrifying than Mirabelle.
As if confirming this conviction, what lay beyond the removed cloth was, to Harry's knowledge, the most inexplicable and most terrifying thing.
"Th-that's... from the Department of Mysteries..."
"Indeed... the 'Arch' connecting to the gate of death."
The 'Arch'!
The manifestation of the very concept of death that Mirabelle's double had shown terror toward!
If the double's words were correct, passing through it would send one straight to the world of death, never to return.
Probably the only tool in this world capable of completely killing Mirabelle.
"I thought about it. How could we defeat that girl who even deflects the Killing Curse?
This is the answer.
No matter how powerful Mirabelle is, once she passes through this, there's no saving her."
Harry swallowed hard.
Certainly, that was right. Using this, immortality or whatever else wouldn't matter.
Just throw them in and all things without exception couldn't return—the ultimate killing weapon.
The very use of such a thing showed Dumbledore's seriousness.
"B-but this was supposed to be in the Department of Mysteries... how did you...?"
"Actually, I transported it out just a few days ago.
I thought this would absolutely be necessary for battle with Mirabelle.
Kingsley and Alastor really did excellent work."
To Harry's words, Dumbledore answered with a hint of mischief.
Apparently, he'd removed it from the Ministry without permission.
No matter how necessary, he was quite a bold old man.
"However, this method can defeat Mirabelle but not Voldemort."
Mirabelle's only mistake was sealing the Horcrux within herself.
Meaning if they threw her in here, the Horcrux would automatically accompany her, perishing together.
But Voldemort was different. His Horcrux was external.
Meaning even if they sent Voldemort's main body to the afterlife, as long as the Horcrux existed, he'd immediately return.
To destroy the Dark Lord, the Horcrux must be completely destroyed.
Having explained that far, Dumbledore paused.
"...Professor?"
"...Actually, Harry. The final Horcrux is in this room."
"Eh?"
"To be more precise, it 'exists' right before my eyes."
Harry didn't understand what Dumbledore was saying.
He said "before him," but there was nothing there. Just himself standing.
Moreover, what did 'exists' mean? As if the Horcrux were alive.
No, he truly understood. What he meant to say.
But his heart refused to comprehend it.
To such a Harry, Dumbledore spoke:
"When Voldemort once tried to kill you... when your mother became your shield and threw herself before Voldemort, the 'Killing Curse' rebounded on Voldemort himself, and a fragment of destroyed soul caught onto the only living soul remaining in the collapsing building.
A part of Voldemort lives within you.
That part is what gave you the power to speak with serpents and brought about the mental connection with Voldemort.
And so long as the soul fragment Voldemort didn't notice remains attached to you and protected, Voldemort cannot die."
"You understand now, don't you, Harry? You are... probably the final Horcrux that even Mirabelle hasn't noticed."
The final truth was now told to Harry.
Edith didn't understand.
Not what was right.
She still couldn't grasp where her own feelings were heading.
The dark clouds over the wizarding world were now being cleared.
The dark camp led by Voldemort had been blown away by forces led by Mirabelle, and the oppressed residents raised both hands in joy at the savior's appearance.
Those who saw her form in photographs had their hearts seized one by one, worshipping her as if under a Charm.
That figure inevitably stirred hearts, like a mother, like a daughter. Like a sister, like a younger sibling.
She established a solid position as the ideal image in their hearts, burning away reason like a curse.
The charm that originally seized souls. Had it increased from abandoning humanity? Now even through photographs, that form attracted people endlessly.
Already, existence itself was a curse.
To a friend who had reached—and fallen to—such a realm, Edith still somehow sought her own place.
Ah, let's admit it. At some point, she'd come to think the place beside her was where she belonged.
She'd found peace of mind there.
Understanding that path of conquest was wrong, still this heart couldn't be stopped.
Perhaps she too was already charmed?
"...Mirabelle... what should I do...?"
On the balcony where she'd once released Mirabelle's hand, Edith muttered alone.
Since she'd disappeared, Edith found herself coming here.
Perhaps the action stemmed from wanting to see the scenery Mirabelle had seen.
She didn't want to betray Harry and the others. Didn't want to trample their justice.
But equally, she wanted to be at Mirabelle's side.
—Even if it was the wrong path that produced countless tragedies.
"That's for you to decide, isn't it? Right, Reinagal?"
A voice echoed.
Gasping back to awareness and looking up, there floated the eternal girl unchanged from fourth year.
Shining golden, her friend's form.
"Mirabelle..."
"Drinking alone here in the middle of the night? I won't know if Filch finds you, you know?"
With no tension, Mirabelle spoke as if to a friend met after a long time.
Really, still as selfish as ever.
While this side's heart pounded at the long-awaited reunion, unable to even maintain composure.
"Well, thanks to that I was spared the trouble of infiltrating the school."
Mirabelle said such things jokingly while sitting on the balcony railing.
She hadn't changed at all.
But people changed. The fact she hadn't changed, more than anything, made Edith sad by emphasizing how she had changed.
"What did you come for?"
"To hear your answer."
Her heart leapt.
She'd known this would come someday.
She'd known someday she'd have to choose.
The moment of decision she'd continued fearing had now arrived.
To the anxious-faced Edith, Mirabelle asked in a voice that could even feel gentle:
"I will attack Hogwarts tomorrow. Since this is the final fortress remaining in the British wizarding world, overlooking it isn't an option.
If you remain here, you'll follow Hogwarts to a death fate."
"..."
"Therefore, this is the truly final question...
—Come with me, Edith Reinagal."
Saying this, the golden girl extended her hand.
If she took the hand, this was the last time.
If she boarded the ship, this was the final voyage.
Edith gazed with wavering eyes at the girl's hand, telling her this implicitly.
She knew... this was the turning point.
This choice would determine everything about her future.
Edith closed her eyes once and slowly took a deep breath.
The answer was decided.
She didn't know if it was right, and maybe it was wrong.
No, there was no right answer to begin with.
Whichever she chose, she'd betray someone not chosen—that wouldn't change.
But even so... even so, I—
Edith opened her eyes—and chose one answer.
***
If you want to read 10 chapters ahead or support me, visit my p.a.t.r.e.o.n.c.o.m /Well_being