HP: Bad Intentions

Harry felt himself sinking into the darkness. His body felt heavy, and his mind was hazy. Something flickered in his eyes, and he blinked. He blinked again, and this time, the scenery around him became clearer.

The first thing he saw was a face.

"Blake!" Harry called out. "Where are you...? Where's Professor Dumbledore?"

Harry sat up, panic rising in his chest. He clearly remembered seeing Dumbledore before everything went dark. So why was Blake, the traitor, sitting in front of him now? And not just any traitor—the one who had eaten the Philosopher's Stone in front of both him and Voldemort.

Did that mean Blake was immortal now?

"Where's Professor Dumbledore?" Harry demanded, louder this time.

Blake leapt up in response, waving his hands frantically. "Keep it down, would you? Madame Pomfrey will kick me out if you keep shouting like that!"

"Madame Pomfrey?" Harry repeated, confused. "Am I still at Hogwarts?"

"Of course, where else would you be?" Blake said, exasperated. "You're lying in the hospital wing at Hogwarts."

"You... you betrayed Dumbledore!" Harry stuttered. "You ate the Philosopher's Stone!"

Blake scratched his head. "This is awkward... I was hoping Dumbledore would explain all this to you himself." He sighed. "But since he's not here, I guess it's up to me."

"Where is he?" Harry interrupted.

"Dumbledore? He's... busy. But let me explain."

Harry wasn't listening. He couldn't get the image out of his head—Blake devouring the Philosopher's Stone right in front of him. "But you ate the Stone!" he insisted.

Blake sighed again, looking tired. "I didn't eat the real Philosopher's Stone."

Harry blinked. "What?"

Blake reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red object. It glowed faintly, resembling the Philosopher's Stone. Before Harry could react, Blake shoved it into his mouth.

Harry gagged, trying to spit it out, but then paused. "Strawberry?"

Pulling the object out of his mouth, Harry stared at it. It was just a large piece of strawberry hard candy, not the Philosopher's Stone at all.

"Now do you believe me?" Blake asked, lowering his voice. "That Philosopher's Stone you saw that night was a fake. The real one is hidden somewhere safe."

"But... where is the real one?" Harry asked, still trying to wrap his head around everything.

"It's a secret," Blake said. "Apart from you, me, and Dumbledore, only Nicolas Flamel and his wife know. And if this secret ever gets out..." Blake leaned in, his expression dark. "I'll sew your mouth shut."

Harry recoiled. "What if someone else leaks it?"

"I'll sew your mouth shut anyway," Blake replied with a grin that was far from comforting.

"You're... very reasonable," Harry muttered sarcastically, rubbing his jaw.

Blake, ignoring Harry's sarcasm, began to explain what had happened the night Voldemort tried to take the Philosopher's Stone. Despite his clear skepticism, Harry listened, his suspicion still lingering. Blake's actions that night had seemed far too real to be a simple act. If Blake hadn't missed his lines, Harry would have believed Voldemort had possessed him.

When Blake finished, the room fell into an uncomfortable silence.

"Any more questions?" Blake asked.

Harry was still suspicious but couldn't deny his curiosity about what had happened while he was unconscious. "How long have I been out?" he asked.

"Three days," Blake replied. "By the way, you missed the last Quidditch match. Gryffindor got absolutely destroyed by Ravenclaw."

Harry's heart sank. "What? We lost?"

Blake nodded. "Cho Chang caught the Snitch. After the game, she hugged me. She said it was to thank me for teaching her some flying skills."

Harry was silent for a moment, digesting that bit of information. But there were more important things on his mind. "Voldemort," Harry started, hesitating. "Is he... dead?"

Blake shook his head. "No, he's not dead. He escaped, right under Dumbledore's nose. My spell hit his soul, but it wasn't enough to kill him."

"So... he's still out there, somewhere, waiting to come back?"

"Exactly. Things are far from over. But don't worry, you're not alone this time. He wants to kill me more than he wants to kill you now."

Harry's eyes widened. "What about Professor Quirrell?"

"Quirrell's dead," Blake said bluntly. "Voldemort didn't care about his so-called servant. Left him to die when things got tough."

Harry sat quietly for a moment, processing everything. He wasn't sure if he should ask his next question, but it had been haunting him. Finally, he blurted out, "Why did Voldemort want to kill me in the first place?"

Blake hesitated, scratching his chin thoughtfully. "Are you sure you want to know? The truth can be... heavy."

"I'm ready," Harry said firmly.

Blake nodded. "Alright, I learned this from Dumbledore, so I don't know all the details. But it all started with a prophecy."

"Prophecy?" Harry echoed, confused.

"Yeah, Voldemort only heard part of it. The prophecy said that a child born at the end of July would be his downfall. That's why he came after you."

Harry's heart pounded in his chest. "So... because of some prophecy, he killed my parents and tried to kill me?"

"Exactly. Voldemort's terrified of death. When he heard there was a chance you could defeat him, he decided to take you out first."

Harry's mind was reeling. For a prophecy... for something that might not even come true... his whole life had been torn apart.

"How... how could someone be that cruel?" Harry whispered.

"Voldemort is afraid of death. And you, Harry... you represent the end of his rule. That's why he wants you dead."

"But... why didn't he succeed?" Harry asked, looking down at his hands. "I was just a baby."

Blake smiled. "That's the power of love."

Harry frowned. "Love?"

"Your mother sacrificed herself to save you. Her love left a mark on you, an invisible one. It's ancient magic, a protection that deflected Voldemort's curse back at him. That's why he died when he tried to kill you."

Harry was quiet for a long time, trying to absorb everything Blake had said.

"That's also why Quirrell couldn't touch you without suffering," Blake added. "Your mother's love still protects you."

Harry's eyes burned with unshed tears. The weight of his mother's sacrifice hit him harder than ever.

"The invisibility cloak," Harry said suddenly, his voice shaky. "Do you know who gave it to me? I got it for Christmas."

Blake nodded. "Dumbledore gave it to you. He thought it might help."

Harry's eyes narrowed. "So... does that mean Dumbledore was leading me to do all of this? Investigating the Philosopher's Stone, stopping Voldemort...?"

Blake tilted his head, considering Harry's question. "It's possible. Dumbledore always seems to know more than he lets on."

"But why didn't he just tell me the truth?" Harry asked, frustration creeping into his voice.

Blake shrugged. "Maybe he thought you weren't ready. Or maybe he wanted you to figure it out on your own."

Harry bit his lip, deep in thought. Dumbledore had always seemed to have an air of mystery about him, like he knew things before they even happened. Was it all part of some grand plan?

"Don't worry too much, Harry," Blake said, standing up. "You're not alone in this fight. Voldemort may have escaped, but we'll be ready for him next time."

Harry nodded, feeling a strange mixture of fear and determination welling up inside him. There was still so much he didn't understand, but one thing was clear: the battle was far from over.

And now, more than ever, Harry knew he had to be prepared for whatever came next.

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