HP: Bad Intentions

Dumbledore's beard trembled.

It wasn't just age or nerves—it was frustration. This child, Blake, was audacious enough to demand a closer look at Voldemort's Horcrux, fully aware of its malevolent nature.

"Since you understand this is a Horcrux," Dumbledore began, his tone grave, "then you must know how vile it is. It brims with dark magic, the kind that corrupts even the strongest of minds. Many resourceful wizards, far older and wiser than you, have fallen victim to Voldemort's tricks. How can you be so confident that you won't meet the same fate? That you won't become the next Ginny Weasley?"

Blake remained undeterred. "Professor, even if you won't let me study the diary, you can't destroy it just yet."

"Why not?" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed behind his half-moon spectacles.

Blake leaned forward, his voice calm yet persuasive. "You want to destroy the Horcruxes to end Voldemort, right? But are you absolutely certain this is his only Horcrux?"

Dumbledore hesitated, shaking his head slightly. "No, I'm not."

"That's precisely the point. If you destroy this diary without learning from it, you lose a crucial opportunity to uncover how many other Horcruxes exist and where they might be hidden." Blake's words carried weight now, and Dumbledore, though skeptical, listened.

Blake pressed on, his logic unfolding methodically. "Voldemort's Horcruxes are extensions of himself, his essence. That means they contain knowledge—valuable information about his plans, his murders, and his hiding spots. We could learn so much from them."

Dumbledore's grip on the diary tightened as he mulled over Blake's argument. "You make a compelling case," he admitted, "but these remnants of Voldemort's soul are still him. They won't willingly reveal their secrets. He'd rather they destroy themselves than betray him."

"That's true," Blake acknowledged, "but I've studied soul magic. I know ways to extract information from such remnants without succumbing to their influence."

Dumbledore's eyes remained sharp with doubt. "That's a bold claim, Blake. And one I find hard to believe."

Blake reached into his bag and handed over a piece of parchment. "Then perhaps this will convince you."

Dumbledore unfolded the parchment, revealing a brightly colored drawing that, on closer inspection, featured none other than Peeves. The poltergeist looked almost alive within the illustration, his mischievous grin eerily preserved.

"This... this isn't just a drawing, is it?" Dumbledore said, astonished.

"No, Professor. I sealed Peeves inside that parchment," Blake replied nonchalantly.

Dumbledore's eyes widened. Peeves, a notorious menace at Hogwarts, had evaded every attempt to contain him for centuries. Even powerful wizards had failed. Yet Blake had somehow succeeded.

The history of Peeves' antics flashed through Dumbledore's mind—how a caretaker's failed trap had once armed Peeves with weapons, forcing the castle's evacuation for three days. Now, to see the poltergeist subdued and contained in mere parchment was nothing short of miraculous.

"How did you manage this?" Dumbledore asked.

"It wasn't easy," Blake admitted. "He played a particularly cruel prank on a friend of mine, so I decided to teach him a lesson. He'll be stuck there for a month before I let him out."

Dumbledore sighed. "Well, this does demonstrate your understanding of soul magic. But Voldemort's Horcruxes are far more dangerous than Peeves."

"I understand," Blake replied, unfazed. "But I've proven that I can handle entities like this without succumbing to their influence."

Dumbledore still wasn't convinced. "Even so, Voldemort's temptations are far more insidious. His Horcruxes don't just attack your will; they seep into your very soul, exploiting your darkest desires."

Blake smiled. "Professor, don't forget—I resisted Grindelwald's persuasions. Compared to him, Voldemort's manipulations seem almost amateurish."

Dumbledore's expression darkened. "Grindelwald may have had a grander vision, but Voldemort is no less dangerous. You underestimate him at your peril."

Blake shrugged. "If resisting Grindelwald's ideology was possible for me, resisting Voldemort's promises of power and wealth won't be a problem."

Dumbledore's patience thinned. "Your confidence borders on arrogance, Blake. Even with your skills, tampering with Horcruxes is reckless."

Blake tilted his head. "Would you reconsider if I could prove I've already dealt with a Horcrux?"

Dumbledore arched an eyebrow. "Prove it?"

Without a word, Blake pulled a small object from his pocket: a tarnished diadem. Its ornate design was unmistakable—it was Ravenclaw's lost crown.

Dumbledore gasped, his beard trembling anew. "This is another Horcrux!"

"Yes," Blake confirmed, placing it on the desk. "I found it in the Room of Requirement last year. I've been experimenting with it ever since."

Dumbledore examined the diadem carefully, his nose nearly touching the artifact. He cast several diagnostic spells before turning his scrutiny to Blake.

"You've had this for over a year and didn't think to inform me sooner?"

"I didn't realize what it was at first," Blake admitted sheepishly. "And when I did, I wanted to study it before handing it over."

Dumbledore's stern gaze bore into Blake. "You've been playing with a Horcrux as if it were some trinket?"

Blake took a step back, sensing the shift in Dumbledore's mood. "It wasn't like that! I've been careful—"

But Dumbledore wasn't listening. In a flash, he grabbed Blake by the arm and pulled him over his knee.

"Wait, what are you doing?!" Blake yelped, horrified.

Just as Dumbledore raised his hand, the oak door creaked open. Ginny Weasley and Professor McGonagall stepped into the office, their conversation halting as they took in the scene.

Ginny blinked. "Um... did we come at a bad time?"

Blake's face turned crimson. "This isn't what it looks like!"

McGonagall cleared her throat, her expression caught between amusement and disapproval. "Albus, I trust you have a reasonable explanation for this?"

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