HP: Bad Intentions

Lockhart stiffened slightly at Blake's suggestion. Truthfully, Gilderoy Lockhart was more interested in opportunities to bask in glory than in genuine heroics.

His plan had been simple: offer vague advice, make a show of being helpful, and let others do the hard work. Once the Whomping Willow was healed, he could claim the credit, exaggerating his role in its restoration during his next round of self-promotion.

But now, Blake and Professor Sprout expected him to take charge. This wasn't part of the plan! Still, Lockhart couldn't back out. His boasts had backed him into a corner, and his reputation was on the line.

"Ahem… All right, all right!" Lockhart said, forcing confidence into his voice. Drawing his wand with a flourish, he declared, "I happen to know a few spells that are particularly effective on plants like these."

He waved his wand dramatically. "Of course, as every herbologist knows, strange plants have their own peculiarities. It's entirely possible the spell may have no effect—not due to my skill, of course, but because of the plant's unique nature!"

Lockhart muttered a string of nonsensical words, pretending they were some exotic incantation. "Ulala Kalista Kashnobara!"

Blake watched the spectacle in silence, struggling to suppress a smirk. It was clear Lockhart was winging it. The man couldn't repeat his own "spell" if asked—because he'd just made it up.

As expected, nothing happened. The Whomping Willow remained motionless.

"Ahem," Lockhart began, ready to deploy his prepared excuse. "It seems—"

Before he could finish, a cold breeze brushed his head. He froze, realizing something was moving. Looking up, he spotted a massive branch swinging toward him.

"Holy shit!" Lockhart barely ducked in time. The branch whooshed over his head, missing him by inches.

Now thoroughly rattled, Lockhart considered fleeing, but the Whomping Willow wasn't finished with him. The tree, already furious from its injuries, now had a new target. Lockhart's flailing and shouting seemed to provoke it further.

Professor Sprout frowned. 'That's strange. The tree shouldn't be moving yet—it's been less than fifteen minutes since we immobilized it. Could Lockhart's spell actually…' She trailed off, torn between suspicion and a flicker of belief in his supposed brilliance.

Blake seized the moment, his tone brimming with faux enthusiasm. "Professor Lockhart! That was incredible! Your spell really works!"

Lockhart paused mid-sprint, bewildered.

"So... now that the Whomping Willow has been awakened by your spell, what are you going to do next?!" Blake's voice rang with feigned anticipation. "We're waiting for your demonstration!"

Lockhart froze, his face a mask of panic. 'How do I explain this? he thought, struggling to maintain composure.'

The truth was almost laughable. The "spell" he'd just recited was complete gibberish—nonsense strung together in desperation! But now, the tree had mysteriously stirred to life. 'Could my accidental incantation have actually worked? Am I a genius without even realizing it?'

But his fleeting self-doubt was quickly overshadowed by more immediate concerns. The Whomping Willow's branches whipped toward him with menacing speed, forcing him to flee in a frenzied scramble.

At first, Professor Sprout seemed swayed by Blake's enthusiastic words. For a moment, she even considered the possibility that Lockhart had some genuine talent.

But then, with a loud THWACK, one of the tree's massive branches smacked into Lockhart, sending him flying backward into a puddle of mud. He landed with an undignified splat, his once-impeccable golden locks plastered to his face, and his robes reduced to tattered remnants.

Professor Sprout's brief hope dissolved. Watching Lockhart struggle to rise, her expression darkened with realization.

Blake, however, could barely contain his amusement. A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, betraying his complicity. It was then that Professor Sprout connected the dots. Blake must have done something to provoke the Whomping Willow into action.

Still, she made no effort to reprimand him. In her view, Lockhart's bluster had practically begged for a lesson in humility. If the man were truly competent, a few clever pranks wouldn't expose him. But if he was nothing more than an overconfident fraud, well...

"Every plant has its own peculiarities," Lockhart wheezed, finally staggering to his feet. "The spell I cast merely awakened the tree. Yes, awakened it! If this had been one of the Amazonian trees I've encountered, I would have healed it entirely. Naturally, I'll need to conduct further research—by tomorrow, I'll have the perfect solution!"

Blake crouched beside him, eyebrows raised in mock concern. "So, you need to go back and think it through?" he asked innocently.

"Yes, yes. This requires careful study," Lockhart insisted, his voice regaining a shred of bravado.

"But I've already figured out how to cure it," Blake said casually. "Why wait until tomorrow? Didn't you say you were here to demonstrate your expertise?"

Lockhart sputtered, his face turning crimson. "I—I underestimated the situation, that's all!"

Blake shrugged. "Well, if you're done demonstrating, let me give it a try."

Before Lockhart could protest, Blake stepped toward the still-agitated Whomping Willow.

"Blake, stop!" Professor Sprout called out, her voice tinged with alarm. "It's still active!"

The tree's branches lashed out as Blake approached, but then something remarkable happened. The Whomping Willow's thrashing slowed, its movements growing more subdued with each step Blake took. Finally, the tree stood motionless.

Blake reached out, resting a hand on the trunk. At the same time, he waved his wand with deliberate precision. The broken branches scattered on the ground began to rise, floating gracefully back into place.

Professor Sprout and Lockhart watched in stunned silence as a soft green glow enveloped the branches. One by one, they reattached to the tree, seamlessly merging with the trunk as if the damage had never occurred. The entire scene unfolded with an almost magical sense of calm, like a film being played in reverse.

After a moment, Blake stepped back, brushing dirt from his hands. The Whomping Willow stood tall and whole, its injuries erased entirely.

"There," Blake said with a satisfied nod. "That should do it."

Professor Sprout broke the silence, her voice filled with awe. "Remarkable work, Blake. Truly remarkable."

Blake flashed a modest smile. "Thank you, Professor. Hopefully, we'll still make it in time for dessert at dinner."

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