Okay, okay, so this is how you play?
I put in all that effort, and you stayed up late making sweet little gifts—for someone else?
Kassandra's defenses crumbled.
In any trio, one person always ends up caring more.
Ha. Burn it all down.
Her hand brushed her wand—
—but something heavy was pushed into it instead.
"Huh?"
Kassandra blinked. A flowerpot.
Inside bloomed a pale, moonlit blossom—white as jade, softly glowing like summer night moonlight.
Enveloped by its light, her thoughts sharpened. Her senses, memory, and even mood calmed.
"It's called a Moonflower," Blake said gently. "It took me all night to grow it. I couldn't finish an alchemy product, so I made this instead. Compared to the soul lantern—oh, your desk lamp—this flower is better.
"Since you love Herbology, I thought... this would mean more to you."
She wasn't ready to forgive him, not so fast—but the Moonflower really did feel magical.
Its light seemed to sweep away her fury. She examined it, fascination overtaking her anger.
"You... you bred a new species? In one night? That's impossible."
"Not quite from scratch," Blake explained. "It's a variation of that sunflower I made—the one your mum named."
He shut his eyes and raised his hands as if conjuring an invisible map.
"I just made some tweaks... added a few traits. The ingredients I used had unique properties, so the experiment went better than I hoped.
"And so... variety 730 was born."
Blake had access to advanced biotech—and plant cultivation was just part of the arsenal.
Kassandra stared at the Moonflower, her earlier bitterness replaced by warm joy.
He knew what she loved. And he made this just for her.
Granger didn't get this.
Granger got a desk lamp—cold and mechanical.
She got a flower. A living, radiant flower.
When Blake opened his eyes, Kassandra had long buried her grudge.
Hermione, meanwhile, was fully immersed in her soul lantern.
No one could blame her. That lamp was like a cheat code for the mind—turn it on, and learning became instant.
One read-through, and the knowledge stuck.
For a scholar like Hermione, this was pure bliss.
—
Elsewhere, Baker stood in an empty corridor, holding a long piece of parchment.
Paintings along the walls stared at him curiously.
He snapped his fingers—flame flared on his thumb—and set the parchment alight.
It floated up, burning slowly.
Yet, oddly, the smoke didn't disperse.
Instead, green vapors gathered, solidifying into a figure—a person from the painting!
Baker's face went pale. He quickly Apparated away.
The smoke thickened, and then—
"Aha! Lord Peeves is back!"
Peeves twirled midair, wary for a moment.
No one around.
He grinned.
"Did you miss me, castle brats?! Filch must've cried himself to sleep without me!"
Cackling, he shattered a window and vanished, his laughter echoing in the corridor.
—
"Okay, Hermione. Let's eat first. Study after."
Blake tried pulling Hermione from her desk.
"Just five more minutes," she begged, clinging to the table.
"Nope. Skip breakfast and I take the lamp back."
"No! Anything but that. Please!"
She reluctantly set her quill down, watching him turn off the lamp.
As the glow faded, the godlike clarity it gave her disappeared too.
It was like going from perfect glasses to fogged ones.
She suddenly felt... stupid.
Is this how she'd always studied? No wonder it was so hard.
Resigned, she let Blake guide her to another table—this one covered in food:
Strawberry cake, egg tarts, toast, grilled sausage, pasta, barbecue sandwiches...
"This is a lot," Hermione murmured.
"Baker brought everything you might like. Don't worry—I'll finish what you don't."
He patted his belly.
His appetite now far surpassed his Hogwarts feast debut. Good thing he had a solid income—otherwise, he might've gone broke.
—
"So... how did you make those two things?" Kassandra finally asked.
Whether her Moonflower or Hermione's soul lantern—either one could shake the wizarding world.
Even Hermione looked up, eager.
Blake had expected the question.
These were magical hacks. Gold Fingers, really.
He asked, "Ever had a memory you just couldn't forget?"
Both girls nodded.
"Now think: why do you remember that but not everything else?"
Hermione hesitated. "Because it left a strong impression?"
"Exactly. An impression is like a memory etched deeply. Think of it like this."
He laid a strip of bacon on toast.
"Human memory has two layers."
He made a light cut on the bacon.
"Did it leave a mark on the toast?"
They shook their heads.
He tried again, this time pressing harder. The knife scored both bacon and toast.
"Now?"
"Yes," they said in unison.
"Memories are like this. One part is physical—your brain. The other is soul-based."
He gestured at the bacon and toast.
"Your brain forgets easily. The soul remembers. If a memory isn't strong enough, it stays shallow—like the light cut. But read something over and over, and you drive it deep into the soul."
He pointed at Hermione's lamp.
"The soul lantern skips the brain. It imprints knowledge directly into your soul.
"That's why you should only use it for studying. Otherwise, you'll clutter your soul with junk."
Kassandra looked at her flower with concern.
"So... I can't take it out casually? It's so pretty..."
"Actually," Blake smiled, "your flower's a living being. Plants have a kind of consciousness."
Kassandra blinked. "Seriously?"
"Yes. It can understand you. If you want it to help with studying—or just sit pretty—just ask. It's like a plant-pet hybrid."
Kassandra cradled the Moonflower, whispered softly.
The light dimmed, but the scent deepened.
Everyone present felt a sudden mental clarity.
"She really understood me!" Cassandra beamed.
"Of course," Blake said. "She's yours."
Hermione watched, impressed. Her desk lamp couldn't do that. But then, Blake had said hers wasn't fully finished yet.
And Hermione was content. It already helped her learn with ease—what more did she need?
Cassandra liked perfection. Hermione liked progress.
Watching them both satisfied, Blake sighed in relief.
These successes were thanks to the shredded remnant of Tom Riddle's soul, which had propelled his soul magic forward.
Not to mention Ravenclaw's diadem.
The inspiration for both the soul lantern and the Moonflower came from the crown said to boost wisdom.
Though corrupted by Voldemort's dark magic, Blake had reverse-engineered it. Its core magic enhanced soul memory.
Now he understood how it worked—and how to use it.
Last night, after handing over Riddle's remnant, Blake had needed a new test subject.
Enter Peeves.
What surprised him was: Peeves wasn't exactly a ghost.
He was a magical spirit—a chaos-born elf created by Hogwarts' own history.
As long as Hogwarts stood, Peeves would exist.
Which made him the perfect test subject.
And so, in gratitude for his help...
Blake Imazato granted him his freedom.