Harry Potter: The Duelist of Hogwarts

Sean finished the last bite of steak on his plate, a satisfying end to a good meal.

"Blaise," he said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, "it's Defence Against the Dark Arts next, right? With the Gryffindors?"

Blaise nodded. "That's right. Just the one class this afternoon, then we're free until dinner."

Sean did a quick mental calculation. The first day of classes was a Wednesday, which meant Potions Club tonight. At least with only one afternoon class, he'd have some time to rest and prepare. As for the potions Andy Pucey was so desperate for, he would have to wait until Saturday. This year, with his plans for the diary and for Professor Lockhart, time was already a precious commodity. Some things would simply have to wait.

After a short break, they checked the time and headed for the Defence Against the Dark Arts classroom.

As they walked out of the Great Hall, they were met with a familiar, almost depressingly predictable scene. A small, mousy first-year was frantically snapping pictures of Harry Potter with a Muggle camera, while Draco Malfoy, flanked by his two lumbering bodyguards, was closing in for an attack. A full year had passed, and Malfoy's obsessive fixation on Harry was as strong as ever. If one of them were a girl, Sean thought with a wry, internal smirk, this entire school drama would have a very different ending.

Malfoy, his face alight with malicious glee, saw his opening. He knew Harry was too noble to be rude to a star-struck first-year from his own house, this Colin Creevey. Mocking Harry through the boy's own adulation would be exquisitely effective.

But just as he prepared to launch his verbal assault, a figure moved between him and his target. Sean.

The moment Malfoy saw him, a flicker of pure, instinctual fear crossed his face. His hand flew up to cover his nose, and he took an involuntary step back, bumping into Goyle's stomach.

Sean spared the platinum-haired boy a single, dismissive glance before turning his attention to Harry. He nodded a greeting, his eyes then falling on Colin Creevey, who was still snapping pictures with a manic intensity. Sean frowned. He held no prejudice against Gryffindors, but Colin's relentless, oblivious shutterbugging reminded him of the paparazzi from his previous life, a profession he held in the utmost contempt.

Still, it wasn't his place to intervene. Harry was the one being hounded, and he hadn't said a word. So Sean just said, "Harry, we should hurry. We'll be late for class," and started walking away.

The words were a lifeline for Harry. He realized at once that the classroom was a sanctuary where Colin, a first-year, could not follow. With a hurried "Sorry, Colin, I've got to get to class," he ignored the boy's disappointed protests and sped up, falling into step with Sean, with Ron and Hermione close behind.

"Sean, thanks," Harry said, a grateful look on his face. "You helped me out again."

"That was nothing," Sean replied, his expression thoughtful. "But you should know, Harry, that constant patience and compromise won't make you a good person. It won't make people like you. Because the moment you stop—the one time you refuse to compromise—you will instantly become the bad guy in their eyes. All your previous patience will be forgotten."

Harry was taken aback. He thought Sean was talking about Colin, but the weight behind the words, the strange intensity in his friend's eyes, suggested something deeper. "Sean," he asked, a genuine note of curiosity in his voice, "what do you think I should do?"

"Be a person of principle," Sean said with a small smile. "Follow your own thoughts. Live by your own rules. Don't do things that violate your principles, no matter how small. For example," he continued, gesturing back toward the Great Hall, "if you don't like being photographed, just tell him directly. 'I don't like it.' If he respects your wishes, then you can be friends. If he doesn't, you need to do something to uphold your principles. You need to let him know that violating your principles comes at a cost. Understand?"

"So," Harry asked, processing this new, almost revolutionary idea, "if it were you... if Colin kept taking pictures of you, what would you do?"

Sean paused, considering the question seriously. "I would break his camera," he said, his voice flat and devoid of malice. It was a simple statement of fact.

Before Harry could respond, a booming, cheerful voice interrupted them. Gilderoy Lockhart, his teeth gleaming, stepped out from the classroom. He took one look at the scene, draped an arm around Harry's shoulders, and beamed at Colin.

"Photography! My absolute favorite pastime! And it seems young Harry here shares my passion. Excellent! Let's get a picture together, shall we? Come on, Mr. Creevey, and I'll give you both autographs afterward."

Harry flinched, instinctively trying to pull away. Lockhart tightened his grip, leaning in to whisper in his ear, "A bit of advice, Harry. I've covered for you. If he gets a picture of the two of us, your classmates won't think you're so arrogant, will they?" He then struck a dramatic pose, pulling the uncomfortable Harry along with him.

Harry sighed, a familiar sense of resignation washing over him. It was just one photo. What was the harm? But then, he saw Sean standing nearby, watching him with those cool, analytical eyes. He remembered his words: Be a person of principle.

Something shifted in Harry's expression. The resignation hardened into resolve. He frowned, shrugged off Lockhart's arm, and pushed the surprised professor away. At the same time, he thrust his hand up, blocking Colin's lens just as the flash went off. All the boy captured was a picture of Harry's palm.

He looked first at the stunned Lockhart. "Professor, I don't like being photographed. I never have. And I've never wanted to attract attention." Then he turned to Colin, his voice firm but not unkind. "Colin, welcome to Gryffindor. I'd be happy to be friends with you. But I don't like having my picture taken. I hope you won't point your camera at me anymore. Okay?"

Without waiting for a response from either of them, Harry turned on his heel and walked into the classroom.

Lockhart was left standing there, his brilliant smile frozen in an awkward rictus. He recovered quickly, laughing it off with a comment about "shy young heroes," and swept into the classroom as if nothing had happened.

Sean watched the entire exchange with a flicker of intense interest. A small, almost imperceptible smile touched his lips as he and Blaise followed the others into the room. Reshaping some of Harry Potter's thoughts, he mused, might prove to be a very interesting, and perhaps very useful, project for the coming year.

(End of Chapter)

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