Sean polished off his roast beef, the enchanted goblets on the Great Hall table glinting under the floating candles. He glanced at Blaise, wiping his mouth with a napkin. "Blaise, next is Defense Against the Dark Arts, right?"
Blaise nodded, pushing his plate aside. "Yeah, with Gryffindor. Only class this afternoon."
It was the first day of classes, a Wednesday rather than a Monday, which meant Sean's schedule was already tightening. The Potions Club met every Wednesday and Friday evening, so tonight he'd be brewing with Snape's group. With only Defense Against the Dark Arts in the afternoon, he could catch a quick breather beforehand. Andy's potion request would have to wait until Saturday. Between stealing Tom Riddle's diary and keeping an eye on Lockhart this year, Sean's time was stretched thin. Prioritizing was key.
After a brief rest, Sean checked his pocket watch. Class was nearing. He and Blaise stood, weaving through the bustling Great Hall, where students chattered over treacle tarts and pumpkin juice. They headed for the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, their footsteps echoing in the stone corridors.
As they stepped out of the Great Hall, Sean spotted a commotion. A first-year with a camera—Colin Creevey, a Gryffindor—was darting after Harry, Ron, and Hermione, snapping photos with relentless enthusiasm. Across the hall, Draco Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle, focused in on Harry, his smirk sharp. Even after a year, Malfoy's fixation on Harry hadn't waned. Whenever Harry appeared, Malfoy was there, ready to stir trouble. Sean mused that if one of them were a girl, the story might've taken a very different turn.
Malfoy strode toward Harry, clearly planning to mock him through Colin's incessant photography. Harry, visibly annoyed but restrained by Colin's Gryffindor tie, forced a tight smile, trying to be patient with the younger student. Malfoy's eyes gleamed with mischief, sensing an opportunity.
But as Malfoy closed in, Sean stepped between them. Malfoy froze, instinctively covering his nose and stumbling back into Goyle's bulky frame. The memory of last year's Slytherin skirmish still lingered. Sean gave Malfoy a cool glance but said nothing, turning to Harry instead.
"Hey, Harry," Sean said, his eyes flicking to Colin's clicking camera. He frowned slightly. Colin's relentless snapping reminded him of Muggle photographers who hounded celebrities, a habit Sean found grating. Still, Colin was a Gryffindor, and Harry hadn't objected, so Sean held his tongue. "Come on, let's get to class."
Harry caught the hint instantly. Different grades meant Colin couldn't follow them to the second-year classroom. "Right, I've got class," Harry said to Colin, then hurried off with Ron and Hermione, leaving the first-year behind.
"Thanks, Sean," Harry said as they walked, relief in his voice. "You helped me out again."
"It's nothing," Sean replied, his tone casual but firm. "But Harry, always giving in won't make you everyone's friend. If you bend too much, the one time you don't, people will paint you as the bad guy—no matter how patient you've been before."
Harry paused, brow furrowing. At first, he thought Sean meant Colin, but something in Sean's tone suggested a broader point. "What should I do, then?" he asked.
"Stick to your principles," Sean said, offering a small smile. "Do what feels right to you, not what others expect. If you don't like photos, tell him straight. If he respects that, you can still be mates. If he doesn't, make it clear there's a line he can't cross. Got it?"
Harry nodded slowly, processing. "So, if it was you, and Colin kept snapping photos against your wishes, what would you do?"
Sean's eyes glinted with Slytherin resolve. "I'd blow up his camera."
Before Harry could respond, a booming voice cut through the corridor. Gilderoy Lockhart swept out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, his turquoise robes billowing, his teeth gleaming like polished opals. He spotted Harry, then Colin's camera, and pounced, slinging an arm around Harry's shoulders. Harry stiffened, clearly unhappy, but Lockhart was oblivious. "Photos! I adore photos, and it seems you do too, Harry!" he declared, grinning at Colin. "Let's take one together! Come on, Mr. Creevey, I'll toss in two autographs afterward!"
Harry squirmed under Lockhart's arm, instinctively trying to pull away. The professor's turquoise robes swished as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. "A bit of advice, Harry. I'm helping you out with young Creevey. If he photographed us together, your classmates wouldn't think you're too full of yourself, would they?" Lockhart mimed snapping a photo, his grin unwavering.
Harry glanced between Lockhart and Colin, whose Muggle camera clicked relentlessly. He sighed, tempted to let it slide. It was just a photo—what harm could it do? But then his eyes caught Sean standing nearby, and Sean's words echoed in his mind: Stick to your principles. Harry's brow furrowed. With a sudden resolve, he tugged Lockhart's arm off, pushed the professor back, and thrust his hand in front of Colin's camera, blocking his face. The shutter captured only his palm.
"Professor," Harry said firmly, meeting Lockhart's eyes, "I don't like photos. Never have, never will. I'm not here to draw attention." He turned to Colin, softening his tone but keeping it clear. "Colin, I'm glad you're in Gryffindor, and I'd be happy to be your friend. But I don't like photos, and I'd rather you didn't point your camera at me again. Alright?"
Without waiting for their reactions, Harry spun on his heel and strode into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, his heart pounding but his mind clear. The enchanted portraits lining the corridor whispered among themselves, as if gossiping about the scene.
Lockhart's face froze in a mask of embarrassment, his perfect smile faltering. But within moments, he recovered, chuckling loudly as he followed Harry inside. "Oh, young people—always so shy, so modest!" he proclaimed, as if the rejection had never happened, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
Sean watched, a sly grin tugging at his lips. He and Blaise fell into step, entering the classroom where desks were already filling with Slytherin and Gryffindor students. The air buzzed with chatter, and a faint scent of old parchment lingered. Sean's mind raced. Harry's newfound assertiveness was intriguing. If he could guide Harry's mindset further, nudge him toward confidence and clarity, it could serve his own plans—especially his pursuit of Tom Riddle's diary. A stronger Harry might be a valuable ally, or at least a useful piece in the game unfolding at Hogwarts. The thought was as thrilling.