HP: Bad Intentions

"Blocking the door?" Professor Babbling raised an eyebrow at Blake, her disbelief evident.

'Did I hear that correctly? An eleven-year-old boy wants to challenge an entire country's Ministry of Magic?' She couldn't help but think.

Blake smirked, unfazed by her incredulity. "You should know I'm not like other eleven-year-olds," he said casually. "Beating them up will be easy for me."

Babbling let out a sigh, half exasperated and half resigned. "What in Merlin's name happened? The papers say you…"

Blake interrupted her with a shrug. "If the newspapers were always truthful, this world would be a far better place," he said dryly. "Besides, if I were going to kidnap someone, it wouldn't be those two bean sprouts. I'd kidnap you instead."

Babbling narrowed her eyes at him. "You little rascal! Are you incapable of being serious for even a moment?"

Blake grinned, unrepentant. "I'm just being honest. I prefer older sisters with… um… a certain charm." He trailed off, noticing Babbling's stern expression. Quickly, he changed the subject.

"Anyway, before I go block the Ministry's door, care to tell me why you're here?"

Babbling adjusted her glasses, her tone shifting to a more professional one. "France has some of the world's best masters of ancient runes. Their alchemists are unrivaled, and as you know, ancient runes and alchemy go hand in hand. I came here to promote the concept of our magic scrolls." She hesitated before sighing. "Unfortunately, things didn't go as planned."

Blake gave her a knowing look. "Let me guess: they thought the idea was unnecessary?"

"Exactly," Babbling admitted. "They believe magic scrolls are redundant, that any spell can be cast directly. They called my efforts superfluous."

Blake shook his head in disappointment. "I told you before—magic scrolls are for the underdogs, not the elite. You need to pitch them to people who actually need them."

He gestured emphatically. "Take Filch, for example. He—or others like him—would find these scrolls invaluable. Trying to sell them to these so-called masters is like offering a comb to a bald man."

Babbling sighed. "So what's next? Magic scrolls are clearly the most practical use of ancient runes…"

Blake's attention drifted as he noticed several figures materialize in the square. "Let's discuss that later," he said, standing up. "Right now, I have a door to block."

Babbling instinctively reached out to stop him but hesitated. She knew Blake wasn't an ordinary child. Despite her concern, she withdrew her hand, watching him walk away with a mix of admiration and exasperation.

"Blake," she muttered softly, "you really don't seem like a typical Hufflepuff."

From a distance, Blake's voice floated back to her. "Honey badgers are badgers too, you know!"

In the square, the newly arrived wizards were scanning their surroundings, speaking in hushed tones.

"He was right here a moment ago! Where did he go?"

"Are you sure? With a bounty that high, he'd be hiding, not walking around near the Ministry entrance."

"I'm telling you, he was here! Let's search the area."

Blake observed them from the shadows. Their attire was sharp and functional—devoid of any extraneous fabric or adornments. These weren't ordinary Aurors. They were prepared for combat, their every detail suggesting discipline and precision.

Blake stepped forward, making no effort to conceal himself. His silver wand rested casually at his side, and his other hand was tucked behind his back.

"Looking for me?" he asked, his voice polite yet challenging.

The Aurors froze, their astonished expressions giving way to disbelief.

Blake chuckled. "Judging by your faces, I don't need to introduce myself."

Their response was swift. Wands flashed as three voices yelled in unison:

"Expelliarmus!"

"Stupefy!"

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Spells hurtled toward Blake, their coordination impressive. But Blake remained unfazed.

Blake's own magic power is very powerful, and he also had the Supreme Lord of the Rings. This made his magic power and physical strength stronger, and his combat effectiveness also increased several times. Therefore, even if he doesn't use supreme magic now, he still has enough ability to deal with this level of attack.

With a calm wave of his left hand, a shimmering Protego Maxima shield materialized around Blake, absorbing the attacks effortlessly. The spells ricocheted harmlessly, unable even to ripple the barrier.

[Ding! Shock emotion detected...]

The system chimed.

The Aurors' confidence faltered, replaced by shock. An eleven-year-old had just blocked their combined assault with ease.

Distantly, Babbling watched from an alleyway, clutching a handful of magic scrolls. She was prepared to intervene, but seeing Blake's performance, she tucked the scrolls back into her robes.

"That boy never fails to surprise me," she murmured.

Blake smirked at his opponents, his voice laced with mockery. "Is that all you've got? I expected more from the French Ministry's elite Aurors."

Blake moved swiftly, his wand a blur of motion.

The first Auror lunged forward, casting "Stupefy!" but Blake countered with a fluid "Protego Maxima!" that deflected the spell effortlessly. He retaliated with "Expelliarmus!", sending the Auror's wand spinning out of reach and following up with a "Flipendo!" that knocked them sprawling.

The second Auror tried to flank him, firing a well-aimed "Impedimenta!" but Blake sidestepped with ease, conjuring "Confundo!" to disorient them. As they stumbled, Blake struck with "Incarcerous!", ropes binding the Auror tightly before they could react.

The third and fourth Aurors attacked simultaneously, casting "Petrificus Totalus!" and "Bombarda!" Blake dodged the explosive blast, his shield charm holding firm, then countered with "Stupefy!" that sent one of them crashing into a nearby lamppost. The other was disarmed with another quick "Expelliarmus!" and subdued with "Levicorpus!", leaving them dangling helplessly in mid-air.

Finally, Blake turned to the last Auror, his wand lowered. "Run," he said coldly. The Auror hesitated, fear in their eyes, before turning and fleeing toward the Ministry.

Blake surveyed the scene, four Aurors incapacitated, each sporting visible signs of their defeat—a testament to his calculated precision.

He then turned toward the concealed entrance of the French Ministry of Magic. With a flick of his wand, he retrieved a series of pea shooters—his own modified plants that continuously fired harmless but distracting bursts of energy. Blake put out a pea shooter with five pots of the entrance.

He also released his giant wolf who appeared in his more docile husky form. The wolf padded over to Blake's side and settled at his feet, yawning lazily.

Blake leaned back on a nearby bench, his posture casual as though he were a tourist taking a break. He rested his wand across his lap, his eyes gleaming with quiet amusement.

The silence didn't last long. The Auror Blake had spared returned, bringing reinforcements.

More than a dozen Aurors poured out from the Ministry's entrance, wands drawn and ready for battle.

Blake didn't flinch. Instead, he stretched, letting out an exaggerated yawn. "Took you long enough," he drawled.

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