HP: Bad Intentions

The Room of Requirement was quiet, save for Blake's soft sigh as he gently set Cassandra down on a chair. She sat stiffly, her face buried in her hands. From where he stood, Blake could see the tips of her ears glowing a vivid red, the flush creeping along her neck. Amused, he noticed faint wisps of mist rising from her head, almost like steam escaping from a kettle.

"Steam Princess," he muttered under his breath, unable to suppress a small grin.

Cassandra refused to meet his gaze, her hands remaining firmly clamped over her face. She had been uncooperative earlier, kicking and struggling in his grip as he tried to help her. Blake had no choice but to use a dimensional door to transport her directly to the Room of Requirement. Now, her silence was almost defiant.

"Next time, don't kick me," he said, his voice even but laced with mild reproach. She didn't respond.

When her silence persisted, Blake's gaze fell to her socks, abandoned on the floor. Shaking his head, he crouched down, picking them up. He grabbed one of her small, bare feet, his expression unreadable as he began slipping the sock back on.

"It's cold," he remarked flatly. "You'll catch a chill."

Cassandra's body tensed, her hands twitching slightly as if she wanted to push him away, but she didn't move. Her earlier defiance had faded into helplessness, her energy sapped. Blake worked quickly, covering both her feet before standing back.

Still without a word, Cassandra rose to leave. Her legs wobbled as she made her way to the door, her cheeks still burning.

"You're insufferable!" she blurted, her voice a mixture of frustration and embarrassment. With that, she dashed out, head bowed, her footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Blake scratched his head as he watched her retreating form. "Help someone, and they still call you the bad guy," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in disbelief.

From his pocket, he pulled out a replica of the Marauder's Map. Unlike the original, this version was a testament to his own magical ingenuity. Not only had he replicated the map with precision, but he had also enhanced it, adding features that made it even more useful. Once his copy was complete, he had returned the original to the Weasley twins, who had been none the wiser.

Opening the map, he activated one of his new features. "Ginny Weasley," he said, his voice clear and commanding. The map instantly zoomed in, pinpointing Ginny's dot near Hagrid's cabin. Blake frowned as he watched the tiny figure pacing in circles.

"What's she doing there?" he murmured. A flick of his wrist conjured a dimensional door, and without hesitation, he stepped through, emerging near Hagrid's hut.

From his vantage point, Blake spotted Ginny standing by the chicken coop. She was staring at a rooster in its cage, her expression vacant. The air around her seemed heavy, tinged with something dark and unnatural.

"Ginny!" Blake called out, his voice startling her. She jerked upright, her hand flying to her chest.

"Blake! You scared me!" she exclaimed, her voice weaker than usual. Blake's sharp eyes didn't miss the faint pallor of her skin or the shadows under her eyes.

"Sorry," he said, approaching her slowly. "What are you doing here?"

Ginny hesitated, her gaze darting around nervously. "Oh, nothing… I just heard Ron talking about Hagrid, so I thought I'd visit. But he's not here, so I guess I'll just… go back."

Her words tumbled out in a rush, her tone unconvincing. Blake's frown deepened as he discreetly probed her mind using Legilimency. What he found only added to his concerns. Ginny herself seemed confused about why she was there. It was as if she had been sleepwalking, her actions driven by some external force.

Blake let her leave without further questioning. He knew she wouldn't confide in him—or anyone, for that matter. Instead, she would turn to the enchanted diary for answers, seeking guidance from the entity pulling her strings.

"Tom, your progress is impressive," Blake muttered, his eyes narrowing as he watched her retreating figure. "But the faster you grow, the more fun I'll have taking you down."

His gaze shifted to the chicken coop. He knew Tom Riddle's plan was simple but effective: eliminate the roosters, the basilisk's natural enemy, before unleashing the serpent.

As he pondered his next move, Hagrid emerged from the Forbidden Forest, a massive boar slung over his shoulder. "Blake! Fancy seein' you here," he called out, setting the boar down with a grunt.

Blake smiled faintly. "Dinner for Aragog?"

"Aye," Hagrid confirmed, his tone softening. "He's old now, poor lad, but I'm doin' my best to take care of him."

Blake's eyes wandered back to the coop. "Mind if I take a few roosters, Hagrid?" he asked casually.

Hagrid looked puzzled but nodded. "Help yourself, Blake. Though I can't imagine what you'd need 'em for."

Later that evening, Blake sat in the Room of Requirement, his thoughts racing. He glanced at his watch—ten fifty. Xiao Hei, the lazy turtle lounging on his desk, had insisted that something significant would happen on the second floor at eleven. Trusting the turtle's instincts, Blake donned his invisibility cloak and made his way down.

As he reached the second floor, his enhanced senses picked up faint whispers. He followed the sound to an abandoned girls' bathroom. The whispers grew louder as he stepped inside, his eyes scanning the room.

"Everyone laughs at Myrtle…" a mournful voice wailed.

Blake spotted the ghostly figure of Moaning Myrtle floating near the sinks. Ignoring her lamentations, he approached the faucets, his sharp eyes catching the faint engraving of a snake on one of the taps.

A slow smile spread across his face. 'So this is the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets.'

Before he could dwell further, the bathroom door creaked open. He turned, his breath catching as he recognized the figure standing in the doorway.

"Ginny?" he whispered.

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