HP: Bad Intentions

Blake?

An eleven-year-old wizard managed to single-handedly defeat dozens of elite Aurors and then sent two girls home as if it was just another day?

The room plunged into an eerie silence.

Apart from Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Cassandra, who had recounted the events with fervour, no one else seemed inclined to believe her story.

The scepticism was palpable. The idea of an eleven-year-old besting highly trained Aurors was unfathomable. What were Elite Aurors if not the magical equivalent of battle-hardened soldiers? For Cassandra to claim Blake had overpowered them and escaped unscathed was as ludicrous as a Muggle child taking down a unit of heavily armed commandos.

Madam Worley leaned forward, pressing a cool hand to Cassandra's forehead as if expecting to find a fever. Her tone was sharp but motherly.

"This child doesn't have a fever, so why is she spouting such nonsense?"

Cassandra batted her mother's hand away with an indignant huff, wriggling free from her grasp. "Mom, I'm not sick or confused!" she declared, her voice rising. "I'm telling the truth!"

Her fierce tone gave pause to some in the room, but Madam Worley remained unconvinced. Cassandra, however, stood her ground. She had witnessed Blake's abilities firsthand, and the experience had etched itself into her memory.

For someone who had always admired strength, Blake's actions were nothing short of extraordinary. His bravery—and perhaps recklessness—had left an indelible mark on her. The weight of his presence in her mind was too significant to let others dismiss her story so easily.

Monsieur Delacour broke the silence, his face etched with worry. His only concern was his daughter.

"Miss Worley," he said urgently, "did you say that Blake sent Fleur home before you?"

Cassandra met his gaze, her eyes lingering for a moment on his silver-white hair. "Yes, he took Fleur home first," she replied firmly.

Delacour's brow furrowed in confusion. "But when were you attacked? Our home is quite far from here..."

Cassandra faltered. She thought back to Blake's unique ability to teleport by drawing magical circles. It wasn't something she had ever seen before. The first time he had used it was during the dragon egg incident at Hagrid's hut.

That spell was unlike Apparition or any other form of magical travel she knew. Cassandra suspected it was Blake's original creation. But she wasn't sure if he wanted this particular skill made public. The secrecy around it made her hesitate.

Dumbledore noticed her unease and stepped in, his voice calm and reassuring.

"Blake has mastered a form of magic similar to Apparition," he explained vaguely. "It's not surprising that he could travel between distant places in such a short time."

Monsieur Delacour seemed to accept the explanation, nodding slowly. Wizards of Dumbledore's calibre often wielded unusual and powerful magic, so it wasn't entirely implausible that his student might have learned something extraordinary.

Delacour's focus, however, remained on his daughter. He hurried out of the room and Disapparated, no doubt heading home to ensure Fleur was safe.

The room quieted further as Dumbledore turned his attention back to Cassandra. "Miss Worley," he said, his tone gentle but firm, "it seems you've been with Blake for quite some time. Can you tell us exactly what happened?"

Cassandra took a deep breath. She quickly recounted the events, omitting only a few details about how Blake had impulsively chased after the mysterious Lotus. Some parts of the story, she decided, were better left unsaid.

"Pieces of another world?" Grindelwald repeated, his tone a mix of intrigue and frustration. "The boy ventured into an unknown dimension on a whim?"

His eyes gleamed with a dangerous light as he clenched his fists. Dumbledore's face, by contrast, betrayed a flicker of concern. The two wizards exchanged glances, their expressions grim.

"That reckless brat!" Grindelwald growled. "Exploring the unknown alone? He's playing with fire!"

Dumbledore nodded gravely. "Nico told me that Blake mentioned visiting Miss Worley. But instead of a harmless visit, he used it as an excuse to take an enormous risk."

Cassandra's frown deepened. "Professor," she began hesitantly, "are you saying Blake lied about coming to see me?"

"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "He intended to use this opportunity to explore the Otherworld without anyone knowing. Unfortunately, his actions inadvertently involved you and Fleur. For that, I sincerely apologize."

Cassandra was taken aback but managed a small nod. Her parents, however, were far less composed.

Mr. Worley looked like he might explode. "That boy should stay as far away from my daughter as possible! Do you realize how dangerous this so-called Otherworld is? And now my daughter's caught up in his madness!"

His vivid imagination painted a worst-case scenario in his mind. He envisioned Cassandra trapped for years in that mysterious world, only to return with a child in tow. The mere thought nearly gave him a heart attack.

Dumbledore and Grindelwald, having gathered all the necessary information, prepared to leave. They knew they needed to find Blake before his recklessness caused further trouble. For once, they shared a common goal: the boy needed to be brought back—immediately.

As the two wizards stepped out into the streets of Paris, Dumbledore broke the silence. "Blake's teleportation magic is remarkable. He could have come to us at any time. Why hasn't he?"

Grindelwald frowned, considering the question. After a moment, a knowing smirk crossed his face. "The French Ministry of Magic must have angered him," he said confidently.

"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked.

"It's simple," Grindelwald explained. "Blake isn't the type to take an attack lying down. They tried to capture him without listening to his side of the story. Worse, they nearly harmed two innocent girls. That would've pushed him over the edge."

Dumbledore sighed, his expression weary. "You think he's seeking revenge?"

"Absolutely," Grindelwald replied. "And honestly, I don't blame him. If I were in his position, I'd do the same."

"Revenge will solve nothing," Dumbledore said firmly. "We must find him and prevent any harm."

"Relax, Albus," Grindelwald said with a chuckle. "Blake won't hurt anyone. That's one trait he shares with you."

With that, the two wizards Disapparated.

---

[Place de Fürstenberg, Paris]

Blake strolled through the quiet square, hands clasped behind his back, looking as though he were on a leisurely sightseeing tour.

But he wasn't here to admire the scenery. Beneath this very square lay the French Ministry of Magic.

Blake's eyes gleamed with a mix of defiance and determination. The Ministry's bounty on his head—500,000 Galleons—had drawn Aurors from every corner of France. If they wanted him so badly, he would make them come to him.

Sitting on a bench, his wand resting casually in his lap, Blake waited. He knew it wouldn't take long for the Aurors to notice him.

Suddenly, someone grabbed his arm. Before he could react, he was Disapparated to a nearby alley.

"Blake! Are you trying to get yourself killed?!"

The voice belonged to Professor Babbling. Her eyes burned with a mix of anger and concern as she glared at him.

Blake smirked. "Professor, why are you here?"

"I should be asking you that!" Babbling snapped. "You're wandering around with a bounty on your head! And right in front of the Ministry of Magic, no less!"

Blake's grin widened. "Exactly. I'm here to block their door. Let's see how they handle that."

Babbling stared at him, her mouth agape.

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