HP: Bad Intentions

Snape's original Divine Edge Shadowless Curse had been created to work silently and without a trace, a spell of pure efficiency. But when Blake used it, a dark black, blade-shaped arc flew toward the basilisk with incredible force. Snape, observing this, was stunned.

Ever since he'd devised the curse, it had never exhibited any visible effects—no colour, no dramatic flair.

It was meant to curse the enemy silently, leaving no sign of its origin. Yet here was Blake, wielding the curse as a massive, blade-shaped arc far larger than the basilisk's own body.

Snape was left scratching his head.

The basilisk, a formidable dark creature, sensed the danger despite its damaged eyes and swung its massive tail forward to counter. The movement forced the Phoenix to hover higher in the air to avoid being struck, but the tail's sweeping attack collided with Blake's Shadowless Curse.

"Crack!" There was a crisp sound.

The basilisk's tough scales were cut through like tofu. A section of its tail fell to the ground with a resounding thud, kicking up a cloud of dust. The curse, though weakened after severing the tail, continued its relentless path toward the basilisk, striking again.

"Crack!"

Another sharp crack resounded as the curse grazed the creature's neck, leaving a wound so deep the bone was visible.

"Roar!"

The basilisk's painful roar echoed throughout the chamber.

The entire sequence lasted barely a second, leaving the onlookers dazed. Blake, however, wasted no time. "Rise!" he commanded, waving his wand. The chamber's stone pillars trembled violently, and the serpentine stone sculptures adorning them came to life. Eight massive stone serpents descended, each slightly smaller than the basilisk, and launched their attack.

"Roar!"

The basilisk roared in pain and fury as the stone serpents coiled around its body. One of the stone sculptures struck with its sharp fangs, piercing the basilisk's flesh in eight critical spots. Despite these injuries, the basilisk fought back with terrifying strength.

"Boom!"

It struggled wildly. Two snake-shaped stone sculptures were directly crushed into stone powder by the basilisk's rolling body! But the rest of the serpentine stone sculptures tightly wrapped its body, pinning it to the ground.

Blake raised his wand again. "Fall!" he shouted. A nearby transparent stone pillar without a snake sculpture fell, transforming mid-descent into a metallic blade. It landed precisely on the basilisk's neck, severing its head with a deafening crack.

The basilisk's massive body coiled reflexively, while its severed head bounced helplessly on the ground. Blake retrieved his wand and called, "Here comes the sword!" From behind him, nine alchemical flying swords trailed by white mist shot toward the basilisk's head, piercing it deeply. The creature's brain was reduced to a bloody mess. At last, the basilisk stopped moving entirely.

Blake removed his helmet, now unnecessary with the threat eliminated. He hadn't intended to tame the basilisk—that would have been impossible given its uncontrollable pupil magic. The creature's death was necessary to ensure no one else would suffer its wrath. Satisfied, Blake approached the basilisk to inspect it closely.

Behind him, the others stood in stunned silence. The basilisk, a remnant of Salazar Slytherin's legacy and a creature of immense power, had been defeated in under twenty seconds. Professor Sprout, wiping sweat from her hands, muttered, "Why... why are we even here? It feels like we came just to watch." Her words captured the collective sentiment.

Professor McGonagall, still clutching her chest, spoke with a mix of awe and disbelief. "Albus, did you see that? His Transfiguration skills... oh..."

Dumbledore nodded, equally impressed. "To animate such large and numerous stone sculptures so quickly and effectively... I didn't expect anyone but myself to manage that."

McGonagall added, "And those flying swords? Are those the ones I confiscated from him before? The alchemical swords he tried to use for flying?"

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes. I thought I'd confiscated all of them. Clearly, I was mistaken."

Snape, meanwhile, gazed at Blake with a mix of envy and admiration. Despite Blake's youth, his skills in combat, potions, and innovation had surpassed most adult wizards.

As the sound of treasure chests opening echoed in Blake's mind, he reached for a large cloth bag he'd prepared earlier. His robes shifted into surgical attire, prompting Snape to finally ask, "What are you doing?"

Blake looked at him incredulously. "What do you mean? This is a basilisk! Have you ever seen one up close? Its flesh, scales—all of it is invaluable for potion-making! As a potions master, shouldn't you be eager to harvest these materials?"

Without hesitation, Snape joined him. "Twenty-eight parts. You get two, and I get eight," he declared.

Blake scoffed. "You wish! Nine parts for me, one for you."

Snape glared. "Shameless, like some old man."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Who are you calling an old man? Say his name!"

Snape hesitated, his gaze shifting nervously to Dumbledore, who was watching them with an amused smile. "Of course... it's Grindelwald," he muttered under his breath, avoiding Dumbledore's eyes.

The tension broke as Blake resumed his preparations. "Help me, or you get nothing," he said to Snape. Together, they began extracting the valuable components of the basilisk, their earlier bickering forgotten in the face of such a rare opportunity.

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