HP: Bad Intentions

Snape's underground classroom was as gloomy and cold as ever, a perpetual shadowed chill that seemed to seep into the walls. But this somber atmosphere was perfect for what Blake intended: summoning the undead. The eerie ambiance complemented Blake's formidable mastery of necromancy, and despite the daylight hours, he felt confident he could find Lily Potter.

The room was meticulously arranged with an assortment of tools: red candles, thin threads, and strange runes. Blake worked methodically, his preparation methodical and precise. Snape watched from the corner, initially skeptical. Yet, as Blake's focus sharpened and his preparations became evident, Snape's doubt began to waver.

'Could this little b*****d actually be telling the truth?' Snape wondered. It seemed unlikely anyone would go through this much trouble just to deceive him. Blake's determination was unmistakable, and it left Snape in a conflicted state. As Blake continued setting up the ritual, he barked, "What are you doing just standing there? Shut the door."

Snape scowled but complied, raising his wand to close the door with a loud bang. He turned back to see Blake pouring a dark liquid—dragon's blood—onto the ground, his brush carving arcane symbols. The sight made Snape's stomach churn.

"Are you certain this will work?" Snape asked cautiously, his voice tinged with suspicion.

Blake didn't even glance up. "If you're going to waste time doubting, you'd be better off deciding what to say to her when you see her. Otherwise, why bother?"

The words struck Snape like a hex. The possibility of seeing Lily again overwhelmed him. What would he say? How could he possibly explain everything? Apologies? Regrets? Words he had rehearsed in his mind for years suddenly felt hollow.

Blake, meanwhile, placed several raw chickens in the center of the ritual circle. The macabre sight unsettled Snape further, but Blake continued with nonchalant efficiency. "Are you ready?" Blake asked, turning to Snape.

Snape hesitated. "Could we wait a few more days?"

Blake's incredulous expression was unmistakable. "You're kidding, right? After all this preparation, you want to back out now?"

Snape's grip on his wand tightened. He had faced the Dark Lord himself with calm resolve, yet the thought of confronting Lily's spirit left him paralyzed. Blake's mocking tone broke through his hesitation. "Let's get on with it," Snape finally muttered.

Blake nodded and began chanting in a strange, guttural language. The candles flickered as gray mist coiled around the room. The already cold air grew frigid, forcing Snape to clutch his robes tighter. Blake, now enveloped in the mist, seemed transported elsewhere, his eyes closing as he connected with the realm of the dead.

Inside the spectral world, Blake's surroundings were dark and surreal. He began calling out, "Lily Potter," focusing on her image in his mind. After a moment, a golden figure emerged from the crowd of wandering souls. The figure—radiant and familiar—stepped closer until it passed through the protective barrier Blake had erected.

It was Lily Potter.

Her red hair shimmered like fire, and her blue eyes were wide with surprise. "You again?" she asked, her voice soft but tinged with curiosity.

"You recognize me?" Blake asked strangely.

"...No... I don't know you... I just saw you here once last time. You summoned me again, what's the matter?"

Blake nodded. "Someone wishes to see you."

Lily hesitated. "Is it someone from the living?"

"Yes."

Lily's gaze softened. "The deceased should remain where they belong, but... very well."

Back in the physical world, Snape stood frozen as the mist thickened. Then, a silhouette emerged from the fog. It was unmistakably a woman's figure, and as she came into focus, Snape's breath caught. Red hair framed a face he'd longed to see for over a decade.

"Severus?" Lily's voice, gentle and familiar, shattered Snape's composure. Memories of their last meeting flooded back—the cold night when she had ended their friendship, her voice cutting as she declared, "From now on, we are no longer friends."

Now, she was here, speaking his name with that same softness he had cherished. Tears welled in Snape's eyes. "Lily..." His voice broke. "It's my fault... all my fault. If not for me, you wouldn't have died."

His confession spilled out in a torrent of guilt. He admitted to betraying her family to Voldemort, leading the Dark Lord to target Harry. "If I hadn't told him about the prophecy, you'd still be alive!"

Snape's anguish was palpable. He fell to his knees, his sobs echoing in the chamber. The weight of his guilt had consumed him for years, and now, faced with the woman he had loved and failed, it overwhelmed him entirely.

Lily's expression remained calm, though sadness lingered in her eyes. "Blake told me everything," she said gently. "Severus, this wasn't entirely your fault. I, too, bear responsibility. If I had tried harder to pull you away from the darkness, perhaps things would have been different."

Her words offered a small balm to Snape's tortured soul, but his self-recrimination persisted. "No... you tried. I was stubborn, hopeless. If I could go back, I'd change everything. I'd never touch dark magic again. I'd never follow those people."

Reaching out instinctively, Snape's hand passed through Lily's translucent form. The reminder of her death cut deeply, and despair threatened to engulf him once more. Yet, Lily's smile was serene.

"You've changed, Severus," she said softly. "You're no longer the man who followed darkness. You've escaped it, haven't you? That's no small feat."

Snape nodded, shame still evident in his posture. "I'm Hogwarts' Potions Master now," he admitted. "But it's too late... too late for us."

Lily's eyes brightened slightly. "It's not too late, Severus. You've found a path away from darkness. That's something to be proud of. And Harry—he's at Hogwarts now, isn't he?"

Snape stiffened. The mention of Harry, so much like James, rekindled his bitterness. Yet, Lily's face glowed with maternal pride. "How is he?" she asked, her smile soft.

Snape's voice wavered. "He's... talented."

Time slipped by as the two spoke, recounting memories and exchanging words of understanding. Lily's final request was simple yet profound. "Take care of Harry, Severus. He may look like James, but he has a kind heart. Protect him, for me."

Snape nodded solemnly. Though he resented Harry's resemblance to James, Lily's wish was a sacred command. He would honor it, even at the cost of his life.

Blake's voice interrupted from the mist. "Time's up. We need to end this."

Lily turned to leave, her form beginning to dissolve into the gray fog. Snape's heart clenched. "Lily!" he called desperately. "I have something I've always wanted to say to you!"

Her fading figure paused. "I love you," Snape shouted, his voice raw with emotion.

The mist trembled, as if the dead within it reacted to his words. For a moment, a figure reappeared, and Snape's heart leapt with hope. But instead of Lily, James Potter's ghostly visage emerged, his expression furious. Blake's amused voice followed. "Looks like you stirred the pot, Professor."

Snape's lips twitched, suppressing a reluctant smile. "Pass my message to your wife," he said to James's ghost before it vanished.

When the mist finally cleared, Blake stretched and stood, smirking. "You owe me a Galleon. That expression earlier? Definitely a snicker."

Snape, still clutching the weight of his emotions, tossed a gold coin at Blake. "Get out," he muttered, retreating to his desk.

As the door shut behind Blake, Snape sat in silence, the faint memory of Lily's smile lingering in the cold room. For the first time in years, the guilt felt lighter, tempered by her forgiveness and his renewed purpose.

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