"Out of the way!"
A short, bad-tempered photographer with a huge black camera was yelling at Ron.
"This is for the Daily Prophet!"
He bounced around like a pinball, snapping photos. Every flash of the bulb spat out thick purple smoke.
"Brilliant," Ron muttered, rubbing the foot the guy had just stomped on.
Sean ignored Lockhart completely, grabbed the full set of books, and headed for the register. On his way out of the crush he ran into Justin.
"Our new Defense Against the Dark Arts professor seems… a bit unreliable," Justin said under his breath.
Sean followed his gaze. Lockhart had somehow grabbed Harry and was mid-speech, beaming like a spotlight.
"Ladies and gentlemen!" Lockhart boomed, waving for silence. "What an extraordinary moment this is! When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted a copy of my autobiography—which I am thrilled to give him right now, free of charge!"
Scattered applause.
"He had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harry a shake that sent his glasses sliding down his nose, "that very soon he will receive something far more valuable than my humble Magical Me. Yes—he and his classmates will be receiving the real, magical me! I am delighted to announce that this September I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"
The crowd erupted into cheers.
"And of course," Lockhart added with a dazzling smile, "I have one more exciting announcement. I will personally track down the mysterious Mr. Hermes and teach him Defense Against the Dark Arts myself—helping him surpass even his legendary achievements in alchemy!"
The place went absolutely wild.
Only a few older, more jaded wizards rolled their eyes. Did this peacock have any idea what he was talking about?
Among them was Professor Quirrell, who had arrived too late to snag a copy of the "Master of the Philosopher" interview. He shot Lockhart a dark, thoughtful look before resuming his hunt for leftover papers.
"Sean," Justin whispered, "you might want to keep your distance. Defense professors… they're never exactly normal."
Sean nodded. The only thing that surprised him was how fast Justin had clocked the curse on the position.
"I'll win his respect the old-fashioned way," Lockhart was saying, flashing his blinding smile. "Just like I did with Master Terra—couldn't be simpler!"
He pointed straight at a flustered Hermione. "And here we have a lovely young Hogwarts student who can't wait for me to arrive!"
Hermione, star-struck and blushing, let herself be pulled up onto the platform.
"Yes, sir!"
"Ah, and this gentleman here!"
Lockhart's eyes locked onto the quietest person in the crowd—Sean.
Lockhart was in an excellent mood. He knew exactly why Master Terra had ended up on a Chocolate Frog card. One word: Hermes. When Dumbledore had come knocking with the job offer, Lockhart had practically packed his bags on the spot.
Curse? Just a silly rumor.
Immortalized on a Chocolate Frog card? Now that was glory.
"So, young man—are you a fan?" Lockhart asked with a wink.
Sean met his gaze in total silence.
Lockhart faltered for half a second. Something about those green eyes made his smile waver.
"Right—different question! Aren't you simply thrilled I'm coming to Hogwarts?"
Sean still said nothing. With this many people watching, he'd been singled out anyway.
Lockhart recovered instantly. "Well then—next lucky wizard!"
"He doesn't act like a professor," Justin muttered as they edged away. "More like a circus clown."
He blinked, shocked at his own words. Then he noticed Sean giving him a slow, solemn nod of full agreement.
Before either of them could say more, shouting broke out near the back.
"Fancy seeing you shopping in here, Weasley," Draco Malfoy sneered. "Did Daddy have to starve the whole family to afford these?"
Ron went scarlet, dropped his cauldron with a clang, and lunged.
Harry and Hermione grabbed fistfuls of his robes.
"Ron!"
Mr. Weasley pushed through the crowd with Fred and George in tow. "What are you doing? It's chaos in here—let's go."
"Well, well—Arthur Weasley," drawled Lucius Malfoy, one hand resting on Draco's shoulder, wearing the exact same smirk.
"Lucius," Mr. Weasley said coldly.
"Busy at the Ministry, I hear," Lucius went on, voice dripping honey. "All those raids… they do pay overtime, don't they?"
He reached into Ginny's cauldron and pulled out a battered but clean copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration.
"Apparently not. Honestly, Arthur, what's the point of being the shame of the wizarding world if you can't even make decent money at it?"
"We have very different ideas about what makes a wizard shameful, Malfoy."
"Naturally."
Lucius's pale eyes slid over the terrified Grangers, then landed on Sean.
"Look at the company you keep, Weasley. I thought your family had already hit rock bottom. And apparently there was a mute on stage earlier—"
Mr. Weasley roared and launched himself at Lucius.
But someone else got there first.
A black-robed figure Apparated in with a crack, face twisted in fury, wand pressed to Lucius Malfoy's throat. A faint green light flickered at the tip.
"One more disrespectful word about my master—"
Professor Quirrell's killing intent rolled off him in waves. Half the shop took an instinctive step back.
Lucius went chalk-white. He had no idea what he'd done, but the murder in those bloodshot scarlet eyes was unmistakable.
"You dare—"
"Ah—"
"I apologize for my mistake!" Lucius choked out, stumbling backward and landing hard on the floor.
Only then did the green light fade.
The entire bookshop had gone dead silent.
Lucius finally remembered who this was: the former Defense Against the Dark Arts professor.
More importantly—the proxy manager of Fairytale Shop.
Which meant the young man he'd just insulted…
Trembling, Lucius turned.
The future greatest wizard of the age—Hermes the Thrice-Great, publicly praised and supported by both Dumbledore and Nicolas Flamel—was watching him with perfect, unnerving calm.