HP: Bad Intentions

Blake appeared just as Peeves prepared to unleash chaos. The poltergeist froze mid-air, his grin fading as he saw his prank thwarted. The group of Slytherins below exchanged relieved glances. Peeves' expression twisted into fury, and he hovered menacingly above Blake.

"You little brat! How dare you ruin my fun!" Peeves bellowed, spinning in a wild frenzy.

Blake stood his ground, equally annoyed. "Damn it! How dare you bully my daugh—" he coughed abruptly, correcting himself. "—ahem, my good friend?"

Although Peeves was a perpetual nuisance, Blake didn't find him particularly intimidating. After all, Peeves was just a ghost, and Blake, a budding necromancer, had no reason to fear him.

Peeves sneered. "Eat my dung egg!" He hurled several grotesque, oversized eggs toward Blake.

Blake barely flinched. The air shimmered as a portal to a mirror dimension materialized before him. The eggs, oozing with foul intent, disappeared into the mirror space before they could detonate.

Blake smirked. "That's it? You'll have to do better than that, Peeves."

Peeves screamed in frustration, his ghostly form spinning faster. He glared down at Blake, but his confidence didn't waver. Peeves knew Blake couldn't harm him; as far as he was concerned, students were no match for his ghostly mischief.

Hovering defiantly, Peeves crossed his arms. "Bloody Baron might scare me, but you, little brat? Don't make me laugh!"

Blake's grin widened. Without a word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a parchment. From the enchanted storage within his cloak, he retrieved a quill and began scribbling a series of strange symbols.

"What's this? Scribbling your will, are you?" Peeves taunted, leaning closer.

Blake held up the parchment dramatically and waved it in the air. "Tai Shang Laojun, by the urgency of the heavens, hear my command! Sign for it!"

With a flourish, he tossed the parchment toward Peeves. It fluttered harmlessly to the ground, the symbols dim and unresponsive.

Peeves blinked in confusion before bursting into raucous laughter. "What in Merlin's saggy socks is that supposed to be? Oh, you're too funny!"

But just as Peeves doubled over in laughter, the symbols on the parchment began to glow with an eerie purple light. The laughter caught in Peeves' throat. His face contorted in horror as he felt a strange force tugging at him. He tried to dart through the nearest wall, but an invisible pull held him back.

"Ah! No! Let Peeves go!" he screeched, thrashing against the force. But it was futile.

Blake watched calmly as the ghost was sucked into the parchment. The glowing symbols vanished, replaced by an uncanny, lifelike portrait of Peeves. The colors shimmered on the surface, giving the impression that Peeves' furious glare could leap off the page.

Satisfied, Blake folded the parchment and tucked it into his pocket. "That should keep you out of trouble for a while. Reflect on your rent, Peeves!"

The corridor fell silent. Blake glanced back at the stunned group of Slytherins, catching Cassandra's flustered expression. Her cheeks were flushed as she stepped forward.

"Blake… you just said I was your—"

Blake cut her off, his face a mix of awkwardness and feigned urgency. "Ah! Right! I just remembered—Professor Snape wanted to see me!"

Without waiting for a response, he bolted down the corridor. Cassandra stamped her foot in frustration, glaring after him. "You cowardly b*****d!"

Blake arrived at Snape's office, the heavy wooden door creaking open as the Potions Master glared at him. "If you're late again, I'll deduct house points."

"Some minor interruptions," Blake replied with a casual shrug, stepping into the dimly lit room.

Snape wasted no time. "Where's the potion?" His sharp gaze betrayed an unusual hint of eagerness.

"Ah," Blake said nonchalantly, leaning against the desk. "Forgot to brew it."

Snape's face darkened, and he moved to shut the door. Blake, however, planted a hand firmly against it, holding it open effortlessly.

"Why don't we brew it here, then?" Blake offered with a smirk. "Unless you're afraid I'll learn the recipe?"

Snape glared at him, his irritation palpable. "You'd best not waste my time."

Blake chuckled. "Actually, I think you might not need that potion anymore."

Snape's expression shifted, suspicion creeping into his features. "What do you mean by that?"

Blake straightened, his tone growing serious. "I've found a way to solve your… problem. Permanently."

Snape's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

"It's simple," Blake said, holding his gaze. "I can summon her soul. Lily Potter's soul. You can finally tell her everything you've always wanted to say."

Snape's glare sharpened, disbelief etched across his face. "You're mad."

Blake sighed, exasperated. "I'm serious. If you let me, I can make it happen."

Snape's hand tightened on the door. "If you're lying, I'll—"

"Relax," Blake interrupted. "I wouldn't joke about something this important."

After a tense pause, Snape opened the door fully and stepped aside. Blake entered the office, his eyes scanning the room.

"Tea would be nice," Blake quipped, earning another glare from Snape.

A notification chimed in Blake's mind: {Ding! Irritated and angry emotions were detected! Congratulations to the host for obtaining a golden treasure chest!}

Snape's composure faltered, and he sighed in defeat. "What do you need?"

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