HP: Bad Intentions

Blake couldn't refuse Professor Sprout's request. The Whomping Willow had been severely damaged after being struck, and it clearly needed urgent attention.

Though Sprout's plan involved a straightforward treatment—reattaching the broken branches and securing them with bandages—the work required effort and urgency.

Blake nodded and followed her as she explained the situation.

"I'm sorry to interrupt your meal, but the Whomping Willow is in real trouble," Sprout began as they walked briskly toward the castle grounds. "This tree is exceptionally rare, but its vitality isn't as strong as people imagine. It's closer to an animal than a typical plant. A broken branch isn't just damage—it's a real wound to it."

Blake listened intently, processing her words.

"The Whomping Willow is fascinating," Sprout continued. "It automatically attacks anything that comes too close, whether that's instinct or some form of intelligence is up for debate. But it does have a weakness—a pressure point on its trunk that acts like a switch. Hit it, and the tree stops moving completely, as if it's asleep."

Blake had heard about this feature before, but now, seeing the situation firsthand, he realized how intricate the tree's biology was. It combined traits of both plants and animals, with an astonishing healing ability that surpassed anything seen in either.

They reached the area near the Whomping Willow, where bright torches illuminated the scene. In the flickering light, Blake saw large, broken branches scattered across the ground, while the tree itself shuddered visibly.

Blake's instincts as an Archdruid kicked in, allowing him to sense the tree's emotions. What he felt surprised him: pure pain and anger.

Sprout noticed his expression. "You feel it too, don't you?" she asked softly.

Blake nodded, surprised by the intensity of the tree's consciousness. While his expertise lay more with animals, he realized that this Whomping Willow was unlike any plant he had encountered. Its awareness, though faint compared to an animal's, was remarkably strong.

"This tree must be decades old," Blake observed. "Its emotions are far more developed than those of the younger ones I've worked with."

Sprout gave him a grim smile. "It's been here longer than I've been teaching. But tonight, we've got our work cut out for us."

Blake raised his wand and cast several glowing orbs of light, which floated into the air and lit up the entire area like daylight.

"Impressive," Sprout remarked, visibly relieved. "Now we can see what we're doing. Let's start by reattaching the larger branches."

She pulled out a small stone and tossed it at the Whomping Willow's trunk, striking the pressure point. The tree froze instantly, its violent movements ceasing.

"We've got fifteen minutes before it starts moving again," she said, pulling out a bundle of bandages. "Madam Pomfrey was kind enough to supply these. Let's focus on the big branches first; we can deal with the smaller ones later."

Blake crouched near the base of the tree and pressed his hand against one of its broken branches, feeling its texture and energy. Despite having encountered the Whomping Willow before, this was the first time he'd observed it so closely.

"Professor, I think I can—" Blake began, but his words were cut off by an all-too-familiar, exuberant voice.

"Oh, Pomona, do you need assistance?"

Blake and Sprout turned to see Gilderoy Lockhart approaching, his immaculate turquoise robes practically glowing in the firelight. His golden hair gleamed as he flashed a dazzling smile.

"Why didn't you come to me for help? I'm an experienced adventurer, recipient of the Order of Merlin, Third Class, honorary member of the Anti-Dark Arts Society, and—need I remind you—five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most Charming Smile Award?"

A handsome wizard with flowing blond hair came over. He had a smile on his face. The turquoise robe was spotless.

Sprout stiffened at his overly familiar use of her first name but maintained a polite tone. "Thank you, Gilderoy. Your help would be appreciated."

Lockhart beamed. "Of course! Who could refuse such a noble request? I've encountered plenty of peculiar plants in my travels. Allow me to demonstrate how to treat this Whomping Willow."

Turning his attention to Blake, he added, "Though I wouldn't want the young student here to think I'm better at herbology than his esteemed professor."

Blake noted Sprout's darkening expression and decided to intervene. With a practised smile, he stepped forward and activated his mastery of performance skills.

"You're the legendary Gilderoy Lockhart?" Blake asked, feigning awe. "The anti-dark magic pioneer? The Order of Merlin recipient? The five-time 'Most Charming Smile' winner? It's an honor to have you as our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor this year!"

He grabbed Lockhart's hand in a firm handshake, shaking it so enthusiastically that Lockhart's usual composure faltered. The man's smile grew strained as he tried—and failed—to withdraw his hand.

"Well, yes," Lockhart said, his voice slightly higher than usual. "It's always wonderful to meet a devoted admirer."

Blake finally released him, leaving Lockhart's hand visibly red.

"Ahem," Sprout interjected. "If you're ready to help, Professor Lockhart, we'd best get started. We've already used five of our fifteen minutes."

Professor Sprout urged them to act quickly. Hitting the Whomping Willow's scar rendered it immobile for fifteen minutes, but almost five of those had already passed. Distracted by Lockhart's sudden arrival and his endless bragging, they hadn't even begun their work.

Sprout glanced at Lockhart with barely concealed exasperation. She had seen through his character in an instant: vanity and exaggeration wrapped in an ostentatious facade.

Blake's earlier compliments had been so over-the-top that they made everyone's skin crawl, but Lockhart had absorbed them as if they were his due.

He didn't care whether he was actually capable of anything—it was all about maintaining the illusion.

Sprout sighed. This man was insufferable. Yet, she knew they couldn't waste any more time. She reached for the bandages, intent on beginning the repairs herself, but Blake gently held her back.

"Professor Lockhart!" Blake said brightly, turning to the strutting figure. "Didn't you just say you wanted to demonstrate how to treat the Whomping Willow? We'd love to learn from you!"

Sprout paused. She had just endured an earful of his boasts—how he had bested Venomous Tentacula, saved villages from carnivorous vines, and single-handedly solved agricultural crises across Europe. Part of her genuinely wanted to see if his herbological skills lived up to even a fraction of his claims.

=============

Want to read more?

Join my Patreon

patreon.com/Max1mus

Also Please vote for this work with your Powerstones

And don't forget to leave a review