HP: Bad Intentions

[Late October]

Rain fell incessantly, draping the castle in a dreary gloom that seemed to seep into everyone's spirits. The castle halls were cold and damp, filled with the soft patter of raindrops and the occasional squelch of muddy boots.

Harry trudged into the entrance hall, dripping water and streaked with mud, his Nimbus 2000 slung over his shoulder. Even as he reached the second floor, Filch's angry voice echoed from below.

"Dirty things! They're all dirty things!" Filch bellowed, his face twisted in fury.

"It's just a little muddy water," Harry replied helplessly, trying to placate him.

"A little muddy water?" Filch snapped. "Do you know how many of my magic scrolls it will take to clean up what you call a little muddy water? Ten! At least ten! Do you have any idea how hard it is to get them back?"

The caretaker's rage was abruptly tempered when he noticed Blake standing nearby. The boy's presence seemed to calm Filch almost immediately.

"Mr. Filch, how are you doing lately?" Blake asked, his tone polite and casual.

Filch's demeanor shifted completely. "Well... not too good," he admitted. "These students keep making a mess of the castle."

Blake nodded sympathetically. "Rainy weather does tend to dampen moods." He pulled out his wand with a flourish. "Scourgify!"

In an instant, the mud on Harry's clothes and the floor disappeared. Filch watched the transformation with a glint of envy in his eyes.

If only he could wield a wand like that, he thought wistfully. But at least he had his magic scrolls now, painstakingly crafted by his own hand. A small consolation, yet one he held onto with pride.

"Thank you, Blake. That saved me a lot of trouble," Filch said modestly, clutching his broom as though it could somehow clean itself.

Blake smiled. "How's your work on ancient runes coming along?"

"There's progress," Filch replied, brightening. "Professor Babbling's notes have been immensely helpful, but there are so many runes I still struggle to memorize."

Blake reached into his bag and produced a small vial of glowing purple liquid. "Here," he said, handing it to Filch. "This is a health potion I've been working on. It's designed to enhance memory over time. Take a small spoonful three times a day after meals, and let me know if it helps."

Filch's eyes widened. "This is incredible! Thank you, Blake. You have no idea how much this means to me."

"It's not magic," Blake clarified. "Think of it more as a health supplement. But keep it between us."

Harry, who had been watching the exchange with a mixture of shock and admiration, could hardly believe how effortlessly Blake had diffused the situation. He even managed to coax a smile from the perpetually grumpy caretaker.

As they walked away, Blake turned to Harry. "Next time, try cleaning off the mud before coming in. Filch works hard enough as it is."

Harry nodded, chastened. "Blake, do you know about the Slytherin Quidditch team?"

"What about them?" Blake asked, intrigued.

"Malfoy's joined as their Seeker," Harry said grimly.

Blake raised an eyebrow. "Let me guess—he bought his way in?"

Harry blinked in surprise. "How did you know?"

Blake chuckled. "A second-year replacing a main team member? He's either a prodigy or very rich."

"Rich is right," Harry sighed. "He bought everyone on the team brand-new Nimbus 2001 brooms. Wood's practically losing his mind."

Blake nodded thoughtfully. "I see. But don't let that worry you too much. A good broom doesn't guarantee victory."

Harry looked at him incredulously. "You're not worried? At all?"

Blake's confidence was unshakable. "Money can't buy skill, Harry. Besides, our team may not have new brooms, but I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

Later that day, Blake convened the Hufflepuff Quidditch team in their common room.

"Bring your brooms," he instructed, his tone brooking no argument. The team complied, albeit reluctantly. Cedric Diggory and the others were bracing themselves for grueling training sessions in the pouring rain.

To their astonishment, Blake didn't lead them to the pitch. Instead, he collected their brooms and sent them off to enjoy the evening.

"That's it? No practice?" Cedric asked, bewildered.

Blake smiled. "Leave the brooms to me."

He carried the stack of old brooms to a secret base within the castle's hidden passages. With his alchemy skills, Blake began meticulously modifying each one, improving their speed and handling. By the time he was done, the brooms were unrecognizable, transformed into sleek, high-performance racing machines.

Meanwhile, at the Duel Club, Cassandra was sparring with Hermione. With a deft flick of her wand, she disarmed the Gryffindor, smirking triumphantly.

"Forget it," Hermione muttered, retrieving her wand and slumping onto a nearby stool. "You win. Again."

Cassandra turned her attention to Hannah, who was snacking on a bag of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans. "Your turn, Hannah."

Hannah's eyes widened in alarm. "Me? Oh, no, no, no. I'm fine right here."

"Come on," Cassandra urged, her tone teasing. "Unless you're afraid."

Hannah sighed, setting down her beans. "Fine. But don't expect much."

The duel ended quickly, with Cassandra emerging victorious once more. Hannah groaned as she picked herself up off the floor.

"Completely outmatched," she muttered, dusting herself off.

As the rain continued to pour outside, Cassandra's thoughts drifted. "Do you think our plan will work?" she asked Hermione.

"Blake will notice we're not around," Cassandra said confidently. "He hates being alone. He'll come looking for us."

Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure about that? What if he doesn't even notice?"

"Impossible!" Cassandra declared. "He'll notice. He has to."

But as the evening wore on and Blake failed to appear, Cassandra's confidence began to waver. By nightfall, she was pacing the empty Duel Club classroom, frustration etched across her face.

"Where is he?" she demanded, throwing up her hands. "He should have come by now!"

Hermione stifled a laugh. "Maybe he's just... busy?"

Cassandra glared at her. "Busy doing what? He doesn't have anything more important than us."

Hannah shrugged. "Maybe he's with Ginny. Or Cho. Or Penelope."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "That b*****d!"

Hermione packed up her belongings and stood. "I'm going to bed. We've been here all day, and I'm exhausted."

Hannah followed suit, gathering her snacks. "Same. Goodnight, Cassandra."

Cassandra stared after them, incredulous. "You're not even a little curious?"

Hermione paused in the doorway. "Not really. Blake doesn't like being controlled, Cassandra. Maybe that's something you should think about."

Left alone, Cassandra's indignation slowly gave way to doubt. "Am I... controlling?" she whispered to herself, sinking into a chair. The rain outside mirrored her turbulent thoughts as the night stretched on.

=============

Want to read more?

Join my Patreon

patreon.com/Max1mus

Also Please vote for this work with your Powerstones

And don't forget to leave a review