HP: Bad Intentions

"Let's go," Blake said with a wave.

In Knockturn Alley, fights like this were nothing unusual. Deaths, while grim, weren't rare. The nearby dark wizards barely reacted—just resumed shopping or selling as if nothing had happened.

Blake was about to follow Agatha when he suddenly felt a faint energy within him begin to tremble.

"Hm?"

He paused, concentrating. Yes, that strange power was definitely stirring.

Turning, he looked toward the spot where the man had died. Something there was triggering this reaction.

Agatha and Snape stopped too, watching as Blake walked back to the scorched patch of cobblestone. Two small stone slabs lay amid the burn marks, glowing faintly blue—the covers of the "ancient book" that man had wielded.

Blake raised a brow. "Strange. They survived the Gubrai fairy fire."

He examined the glowing slabs. They shouldn't have lasted even a second under such intense magical fire.

"Do you see it?" he asked.

"See what?" Snape frowned.

"These slabs—they're glowing."

Snape and Agatha exchanged a glance.

"I don't see anything," Agatha admitted.

Blake tilted his head. "Only I can see the glow?"

Intrigued, he moved closer. The mysterious force within him reacted—more active now. Of course. It was the ancient magic he'd absorbed long ago. He'd thought it fully suppressed, buried under his immense magical power.

Apparently, it wasn't all taken by that mysterious student from over a century ago.

The dead man had said these were unearthed in Greece recently. That made sense.

Blake extended his hand, channeling his latent ancient magic. The glow intensified. Then the light from the slabs lifted into the air and slowly drifted into his palm, disappearing as if being absorbed.

Once it was done, the slabs dulled, turning back into ordinary stone.

Blake could feel it—the ancient power within him had grown slightly stronger. He almost never used this power, since his arsenal was already overflowing. Ancient magic was potent but impractical for his needs.

Still, strengthening it a bit couldn't hurt.

His thoughts drifted to that mysterious fifth-year transfer student—the one who supposedly slaughtered dozens on campus.

Was he still alive?

If he enrolled around 1880, then he'd be just a bit older than Dumbledore. Powerful wizards often lived long lives. There was a real chance he was still out there.

Blake hoped he could meet him someday.

"I said," Snape's voice cut in, "how long do you plan on standing there like an idiot? Has dark magic finally fried your brain?"

Fear didn't stop Snape's signature sarcasm. Sure, Blake had just immolated a man, but that didn't mean Snape would let go of the chance to be snide.

He wouldn't speak this way to Voldemort, of course. But Blake was... different. More reasonable, oddly ethical—even if a little terrifying.

Blake turned to him with a smirk. "Dark magic won't melt my brain. Have I not conquered your heart with my charms, Severus?"

Snape sneered. "You know far too much about dark magic. How long have you been studying it in secret?"

"Oh, even you think my dark magic is impressive?" Blake chuckled. "Professor Dumbledore's been teaching me for a semester."

Snape's hidden expression twisted.

"Dumbledore? Teaching dark arts?"

He'd intended to call Blake a hypocrite, a Dumbledore-relative practicing forbidden magic. But if Dumbledore himself was behind it?

The hypocrisy was staggering.

"And Quirrell—the one possessed by that man—we learned a lot from each other, too."

Snape went pale.

"You mean... he actually taught you dark magic?"

Snape had always assumed Voldemort used Blake as a pawn, not a student.

Blake nodded. "I was undercover at the time, but he trained me quite seriously. I felt a little bad turning on him."

Snape watched as Blake struggled—unsuccessfully—not to smile.

The trio moved on. They passed a stall selling tamed trolls before stopping at an imposing round tower.

"That's Chaos Wish," Agatha said. "It's where we take bounty missions. Everything here's illegal, of course."

"Of course," Blake said, eyeing the tower. "What a name. Let's see what kind of weird commissions we can find."

As Agatha opened the door, Blake noticed a narrow alley off to the side. Inside were dozens of familiar figures.

"Are those...?"

Agatha followed his gaze. "House elves who've lost their masters. Many hide there—some abandoned, most left behind when their masters died. I hear the oldest is over a hundred years old."

Blake's interest piqued. He'd been meaning to ask Agatha about free elves.

"Well," Asha asked, "interested in adopting a few?"

Blake smiled. "Let's take care of today's business first."

Inside, Chaos Wish was much larger than it looked. A massive rotunda stretched upward, crowned by a ten-meter statue of a knight with sword drawn.

Blake activated the Eye of Truth. To his surprise, the statue was a powerful magical puppet—not quite on par with Slytherin's statue in the Chamber of Secrets, but formidable nonetheless.

"Knockturn Alley's full of surprises," he said.

Agatha nodded. "The part I control is only the stretch that connects to Diagon Alley. I don't dare venture deeper... it feels dangerous."

"No blame there," Blake replied. "It's smart not to provoke what you don't understand."

He glanced at the circular walls. "So where do we find commissions?"

Agatha pointed. "See all those papers stuck to the walls? Some have been there for centuries."

"Centuries? What if the client dies?"

"Good question. But every posted commission is still valid. If one becomes invalid, Chaos Wish removes it immediately. They take 10% of every reward—they don't want clutter."

She handed Blake and Snape a small telescope each.

"These help you read commissions on the upper walls. If you want one, just use a Flying Curse to pull it down. But be warned—once you take a commission, you're bound to complete it within the time limit. Fail, and you'll pay a hefty fine and won't be allowed to accept new ones for three days."

Blake scanned the walls eagerly. Higher commissions offered bigger rewards—not just Galleons, but also rare magical materials, potion recipes, and magical creatures.

Some even offered people as rewards.

He blinked. Celebrities? Muggle ones, no less.

"Dark wizards are nothing if not imaginative," he muttered.

"Commission," Snape said abruptly.

A parchment fluttered into his hand.

Blake peered at it.

The task was straightforward: clear a dark wizard stronghold.

"It's a classic soul-ash bounty," Snape said. "Perfect for someone like you."

The danger was real. Usually, these missions required an elite squadron. But with Blake on the team, Snape believed the three of them were enough.

The reward: 50,000 Galleons.

"A team raid, essentially," Blake said. "What's the time limit?"

Agatha touched the bottom corner of the parchment. "120D—120 days. If it were shorter, it would end in H for hours."

"Got it."

Blake resumed browsing. Thanks to his dimensional door, travel time wasn't a concern. Soon, he pulled four more commissions.

"Let's start with a few," he said casually.

Their combined reward total? Over 200,000 Galleons.

"Illegal work pays well," Blake said, rubbing his hands.

Agatha laughed. "Only someone like you could take on so many. Most people would go broke from the penalties alone."

"And if you can't pay the fine?"

"Then you risk your life," she said simply.

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