HP: Bad Intentions

Saturday morning.

Cedric was curled up in bed, lost in a sweet dream. The warmth of the quilt enveloped him, promising a lazy start to the day. Suddenly, he felt the quilt ripped off with a sharp tug. A biting cold wind hit him, forcing him upright with a howl.

"Ah!"

Wide-eyed and clutching his chest as if he'd been attacked, Cedric stammered, "You... you... what are you doing?"

Out of the shadows emerged Blake, his silhouette sharp against the faint dawn light.

"Heh-heh-heh... what am I doing?" Blake smirked. "Training, of course!"

"But... today is Saturday!" protested Cedric, his voice a mix of desperation and indignation.

Blake raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "Saturday? Exactly! What else is Saturday for but training?"

"No!" Cedric cried. "Blake, you can't do this! It's pouring outside!"

Cedric gestured toward the window, where sheets of rain battered the panes. The thought of leaving his warm bed to train in this weather seemed utterly inhumane.

"Ah, Blake! You're the devil! Satan himself!" Cedric groaned, pulling the quilt back over his head.

He regretted ever convincing Blake to become captain. He remembered the reluctance on Blake's face when he'd forced the responsibility upon him. "If only I'd known..." he muttered before Blake yanked him out of bed.

Not long after, the entire Hufflepuff Quidditch team stood groggily in the common room by the fireplace. Their training gear was on, but their spirits were clearly not. Eyes barely open, they huddled close to the warmth, trying to shake off their resentment.

"Come on, show some energy!" Blake clapped his hands, his enthusiasm contrasting sharply with the dreary atmosphere. "I promise, you'll feel amazing after this!"

A rumble of thunder outside seemed to mock his words. The team exchanged dubious glances. Not only was it raining heavily, but a thunderstorm had rolled in, making the idea of training seem downright perilous.

"Captain," Cedric tried one last time, his voice weak with exhaustion, "it's thundering. This is dangerous."

Blake waved him off casually. "It'll stop soon."

Cedric's jaw dropped. "Stop? How could you possibly know that?"

Blake grinned, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Because I'll make it stop."

"If you can make this rain stop," Cedric challenged, "I'll eat noodles while standing on my head!"

"Deal," Blake said, pulling out his wand. "And I'll add chili powder to those noodles."

Before Cedric could protest, Blake pointed his wand skyward. A bolt of lightning erupted from its tip, slicing through the storm clouds. The dark sky began to clear, the thunder faded, and rays of sunlight broke through. For the first time in weeks, Hogwarts basked under a blue sky.

The team stared, slack-jawed. Blake, nonchalantly pocketing his wand, turned to Cedric. "So, about those noodles..."

Cedric spluttered, "That was a joke, Blake!"

Blake grinned wickedly. "Oh, it's just noodles. Be glad I didn't ask for mustard."

Moments later, the team followed Blake out into the sunshine. Despite their earlier resentment, they couldn't deny the thrill of seeing their captain disperse a thunderstorm like it was nothing.

"Blake, what spell was that?" one player asked.

"How did you do it?" another chimed in.

Blake shrugged, playing coy. "Spell? Who needs a spell? I just decided the rain should stop, so it did."

The team groaned collectively. Even Cedric couldn't help but mutter, "Show-off."

They reached the Quidditch pitch, which, thanks to Blake's weather manipulation, was dry and gleaming under the sun. Blake clapped his hands again to get their attention.

"All right, today's focus is on testing your new brooms."

"New brooms?" Cedric asked, holding up his old Comet model. "This isn't new."

Blake smirked. "It's not new, but it's improved. I spent the last week upgrading all your brooms."

The team exchanged skeptical glances. There were no visible changes to their brooms.

"The best modifications are the ones you can't see," Blake explained. "Trust me, these brooms are now top-notch."

Cedric stepped forward, eyeing his broom suspiciously. "You're saying this old Comet is now faster?"

Blake nodded confidently. "Much faster. Go ahead, give it a try."

Cedric mounted his broom, pushing off with the same force he always used. What he didn't expect was the broom to shoot into the sky like a rocket.

"AAAAHHHHHHH!"

His scream echoed as he became a blur against the horizon. Blake sighed, shielding his eyes to watch Cedric's trajectory.

"Should've warned him," Blake muttered. "I might have... over-tuned that one."

The rest of the team stared nervously at their brooms.

"Why aren't you taking off?" Blake asked.

One brave player stammered, "We're... waiting for more instructions."

Blake rolled his eyes. "Fine. Just push off gently, and you'll be fine."

Following his advice, the team took off one by one. Soon, the Quidditch pitch was filled with laughter and cheers as the players zoomed around, marveling at their enhanced brooms. Blake watched with a satisfied smirk, knowing he'd earned their trust.

Meanwhile, Cedric had finally managed to stabilize his broom. He swooped back down to the pitch, panting and red-faced.

"Blake!" he shouted. "That broom's a death trap!"

"Or," Blake countered, "it's a masterpiece. You just need to adapt."

Cedric glared but couldn't deny the broom's performance. It was faster and more responsive than anything he'd flown before.

"Fine," he muttered. "But I'm not eating noodles upside down."

Blake chuckled. "We'll see about that."

High above, Dumbledore sat in his office, his chair angled to catch the warm sunlight streaming through the window. A cup of tea in hand, he watched the lively scene on the Quidditch pitch below.

"Ah," he murmured with a smile. "It's good to be young."

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