Even though they didn't travel by boats, a luxury reserved solely for the First Years, arriving at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was just as magical for Harry as it had been the year previous. The building appeared just as majestic, just as grand, standing high above the water. The castle walls were just as imposing, yet still somehow inviting, his home welcoming him back as if he'd never left. The children around him all wore smiles but none as wide as his. He'd got through the summer and now his real life could begin. No matter what dangers supposedly lay ahead of them according to Dobby the House Elf. That was a mystery that could wait until he was settled in, or at least until after he'd been properly fed. The chocolate they'd gorged on on the Express could never hold a candle to the meal that awaited them.

Perhaps it was the way they had travelled to school, and the heated conversation that had ensured during their journey, but the welcoming feast almost seemed anticlimactic. He didn't really focus on the sorting ceremony, apart from acknowledging how small the new pupils looked (there was no way he could have been that tiny, even if he had barely grown since that day) and how one of the new Gryffindors, a young girl with vivid orange hair, looked at him even more than the awe-struck student populace whenever he was around. Nor had he really taken in the Sorting Hat's opening song, which, judging from Hermione's detailed analysis, was vastly different to the one they'd been greeted with the previous September. Harry had been emotionally exhausted from his short but fierce confrontation with Matthew, the first time he had been properly involved in an argument in his young life. Shouting at Dudley and his goons, or occasionally raising his voice to his relatives could not match being angry with an actual friend because something was therefore on the line. Something could be lost. Although it had been settled, with some things still left up in the air, it had still knocked the stuffing out of him. Which might have explained why he spooned such a great heap of stuffing onto his plate to go with the roast dinner he had selected.

Hermione glanced over at him from where she was sitting with her neatly cut cottage pie. "Why do you need so much food on your plate?" she asked with a wince. "It won't disappear, you know. The plates refill themselves if they get too empty." Off to her side, Ron Weasley was practically shoving his face into a casserole, gravy and bits of vegetables sticking to his cheeks. Her mouth twitched with a grimace. "Why are boys just so disgusting?"

"Not all boys are," Matthew commented as he sliced through a chicken breast, combining it with a few runner beans. "And it's that sort of mindset that makes people stubbornly refuse to change." There was one too many runner beans on his fork, tumbling onto his lap as it knocked against his mouth, and Hermione smiled smugly in satisfaction.

"Are you looking forward to seeing your new dorm room, Harry?" she asked the other boy whilst Matthew cleaned himself up.

Harry frowned at her. "What do you mean? I thought we'd be in the same beds."

"You still haven't read Hogwarts A History, have you? Where would the new First Years go if you stayed on the same floor? You go up a level."

"But I'd just managed to sort the spring out that had been digging into my back all year!" Harry sulked into his Yorkshire Pudding. "That's months wasted then, just for some silly kid to reap the benefits."

"You were exactly the same silly kid a year ago. There's no need to insult them just because you're older."

"Of course there's no need," Matthew chimed in. "But there is a bit of fun to be had."

"If I find you taunting any of the new Gryffindors, you will have me to deal with. And Professor McGonagall."

"What about the Slytherins?"

Hermione hesitated. "Maybe I could turn a blind eye once or twice. But not every time!"

Matthew grinned. "I just love it when we get to see how we've influenced you. How much you've grown in the space of a year." He dabbed at his eye with a napkin. "It brings a tear to my eye just thinking about it."

Harry was faintly aware of Hermione going dangerously close to poking Matthew's hand with her fork, but he was too busy looking up at the staff table at the far end of the magnificent Great Hall. The same professors were still there. Dumbledore, with his eyes gleaming, looking over at the students. McGonagall, her face just as dour as he remembered it, probably planning an excruciatingly difficult lesson to welcome them back with. Flitwick, his head only just visible even with an elevated chair. Snape, his hair possibly even greasier than what it had been, his hooked nose doing little to detract from his beady black eyes. But where Professor Quirrell had sat last year, before his true persona and agenda had been revealed, was now taken up by another man. His face was perfectly symmetrical, his hair neatly parted and groomed. Even whilst he was eating, his bright smile still managed to come dazzling through as if he were constantly taking a photograph.

Harry nudged Hermione. "Who's the new professor?"

"Haven't you read your new Defence Against the Dark Arts books?"

"You can't blame him for that," Matthew intervened. "I delivered them to the Dursleys for him so that he didn't need to risk asking them for a lift. Imagine his uncle walking through Diagon Alley. Anyway, he won't have had the chance to read them yet."

"Hmm." Hermione didn't look too impressed. "Well, that's Gilderoy Lockart. He's taken over that class. He's very famous in the wizarding world for his daring acts of bravery. There were only a few of his most well known books on the reading list but I had to get the entire collection. Battling vampires and trolls without any help." She was resting her head on her hands as she looked at the man in question, a weird smile on her face. Matthew and Harry shared a concerned look.

"He looks poncy."

Hermione gasped. "How could you say that?"

"Do you think his hair would have stayed perfectly in place whilst he fought those creatures?" Harry wondered. "I bet he stopped to have pictures taken, telling the vampires to get in the right light for the shot. Which is probably how he accidentally killed them."

"You should have more respect for your teachers, especially when you haven't even met him yet."

Harry wasn't so sure. Lockhart happened to be looking straight at him as they spoke. It was different to the way he had spotted Snape staring at him exactly a year ago, a look that had been filled with detestment and anger. No, Lockhart's smile was predatory, as if he'd set his eyes on his latest target.

Throughout his first classes, Harry managed to evade Gilderoy Lockhart, who always seemed to be around the next corner. He was thankfully able to ignore the new professor completely during the herbology lesson, since the mandrakes they were being taught to repot were the sort of creature that took up all of your attention. Matthew gladly taking a pair of pink, fluffy earmuffs was a highlight of the class, with the boy constantly asking whether they suited him. Having to put up with a Hufflepuff boy by the name of Justin Finch-Fletchley did put a dampener on the hour, whose constant self-praise and egotistical prattling was a worse noise than the screaming coming from their plants.

Harry was much relieved to be out of the greenhouse, a sentiment even shared by Hermione, who had never wanted a lesson to end as quickly. Transfiguration was a jolt back to normality however. Harry had been right in his prediction that McGonagall had been preparing something incredibly difficult for their return but he found that, since he'd actually been able to keep reading his textbooks over the Summer instead of having them locked away, he was successfully able to remember what he had learnt the previous year. He even managed to transfigure a beetle into a button, an exercise he didn't exactly understand the purpose of (but when had any of his classes truly made sense?). Matthew, in the meantime, had completed the same task almost immediately, along with Hermione, but whereas she had spent the rest of the time with her nose in a book, Harry's other friend had used the free time to transfigure anything he could find into buttons as well. When the class came to an end, Harry was very disgruntled to find that all of his quills had been tampered with.

"They were supposed to last me until the end of the year!" he complained as they sat outside, enjoying the little spare time they had. "It's the first day back! I can't write with buttons!"

"I'll change them back," Matthew assured him dismissively, waving a hand as he focused on another task at hand. Hermione had situated herself on a small rock, the same book she'd had in class sitting on her lap. Matthew edged closer, telling the other boy to keep his mouth shut with a silent gesture, eventually being able to swipe the hefty tome out of her grasp.

"Voyages with Vampires?" he read, ignoring her exasperated gasp. "A Lockhart book? Why on Earth are you so obsessed with this?" Matthew toyed with little bits of paper that had been slotted in on certain pages. "How many notes have you written? Hold on…are those love hearts you've drawn on?" He was barely able to contain his laughter, Harry wandering over to see if this could possibly be true. Much to their disappointment, Hermione was able to snatch it away, though Matthew hadn't resisted her too much.

"Haven't you ever been told that it's rude to take things from other people without their permission?" she snapped.

"I gave it back! Reluctantly…but I still gave it back. And you're ignoring the important thing here…the hearts! Please don't tell me that Hermione Granger has a crush ."

"Is that so hard to believe?" She shot him a dark look through narrowed eyes that would have had many lesser wizards cowering at her feet. She sounded distinctly insulted and hurt, something neither of them had been expecting from the gentle teasing.

"Only when the crush is on a professor! Though, now I say it, you've always had a thing for authority figures since the day we met you. But why, of all the ones, did it have to be him? That smarmy, grinning idiot? I would have thought that you had better standards than this."

Hermione was blushing furiously. "All of this anger makes me believe that you're simply jealous! Is that it? Would you rather me write your name in love hearts instead?"

She had said it as a joke obviously. An easy way to get back at him, to showcase her own talents at teasing. Only, Matthew was now standing there at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing but with nothing coming out. He had no idea how to respond to that and it was his turn to a vivid red around his cheeks and ears. Hermione looked equally as surprised at his reaction and the entire Lockhart thing stood forgotten as they fumbled with what to do next.

Harry, at least, was loving it, only to be distracted by the sight of a young boy standing by a tree nearby, his eyes solely fixed on the trio. Upon being spotted, the student seemed to have a war of minds on what to do, debating whether to run or come closer. Evidently, he chose the latter as he took a few timid steps closer, close enough to have a conversation but far away enough to get a head start on running if he needed to flee.

"Hello?" Harry greeted, unsure as to what was happening.

"Hello," the boy squeaked.

"Can I help you?"

"I'm Colin Creevey," the boy suddenly rushed out, as if he'd been building up the courage to say it. "I'm in Gryffindor, just like you. Would it be okay…if you're not busy, that is…would you mind if I took a picture?" He held up the camera that was loosely tied around his neck.

"A…picture?"

"Yeah! I want to send photos back to my dad. He's a milkman, you see. Had no idea that I had magical abilities until the letter came. It shocked us both. Anyway, yeah…I'm sending photos to reassure him that I'm okay and I've heard of you before obviously. Everyone goes on about how you survived You-Know-Who trying to kill you when you were just a baby. And about the lightning scar on your head." He briefly paused to look up at said scar. "My dad will be so excited that I've met you. Especially if the photo moves! Did you know that there's a potion that makes photographs move? This place is amazing, isn't it?"

"Sorry…you want a photo…of me?"

The strange and rather baffling conversation seemed to shake Matthew and Hermione out of their slight daze. The former bounded over with a humorous smile on his face, though he was doing his best to keep his laughter at bay. Seeing Harry with his cheeks that red was probably the highlight of the day. He was currently the definition of a deer caught in the headlights, especially with the little Creevey boy continuing to edge closer, holding the camera further up as if it would force Harry to say yes. Thankfully (or not, depending on the perspective), Matthew was on hand to help out. Harry should have known from experience that that never worked out for him swimmingly.

"He'd love to have his photograph taken!" Matthew exclaimed, wrapping an arm around Colin, who was shocked at the sudden contact. Compared to the older boy and his large cloak, he looked even tinier than he had done. "On one condition…you take a photo of us three together first. By that tree. And then I'll politely ask that you develop a few copies so that we can keep them." He barely gave Colin time to nod his head before he was dragging his friends over to the spot he had described. With the sun shining down upon them, the location was perfect. Harry was still in a state of shock and Hermione's brain wasn't working at full capacity, so they were allowing Matthew to dictate their movements, shaping the way they needed to stand and pose. Standing in between them, he put his arms around their shoulders, pushing them close together, and the sheer absurdity of the situation had them laughing almost uncontrollably. They were so caught up in the moment that they didn't really register the flash going off but maybe that was going to make the photo even more perfect.

Moving like a whirlwind, Matthew rushed over to Colin, examining his work. "Oh, this is splendid! Look at us!" His smile was soft as he looked at the camera. "It's been a while since I had a photo taken with anyone, let alone the people I…" He paused, the words caught in his mouth and he shook his head. "Anyway, yes…these are great. You have a real skill."

"Really?" Colin asked in a small voice.

"If I ever need a picture taken again, you're the only person I'll come to."

"Do I still get to take one of Harry?"

Harry's face fell again but Matthew was already answering for him. "That was the deal. Come on, Harry. It'll just be quick." He grabbed Hermione's hand to gently move her out of the way of the shot.

She rolled her eyes at his enthusiasm. "You're incorrigible, I hope you know that."

"It's one of my finer traits, Miss Granger."

"It's nice to see you like this. I mean, I sometimes forget that you're actually a kid with the way you act normally. It was a nice thing that you did for Colin, complimenting him."

"I do have a heart, contrary to popular belief. Although, I must admit that a part of me just wanted to watch this play out." He nodded his head as Harry uncomfortably stood still for the photo, doing his best to smile as he held his thumbs up, an action he doubted he'd done before.

"Thanks for doing this, Harry!" Colin said giddily. "Perhaps you could…maybe…sign it once it's developed?"

"What's going on here?" A slimy voice shouted, shattering the pleasant atmosphere. Malfoy wandered over, as ever lagged behind by his two cronies, Crabbe and Goyle. It was the first time that they'd properly seen him since the new school year started, apart from the odd glance in the Great Hall. They'd been lucky enough to avoid him during their shared train journey but that was probably down to the argument they'd been sharing instead, taking their attention away from everything else. "Signing? Are you doing signed photos, Potter?" He laughed at his own comment, his goons copying him as they'd been trained. There were some more students milling about and he shouted out to the growing crowd. "Line up, everyone! Potter is posing for signed photographs!"

"Do you want one, Malfoy?" Matthew called. Suddenly, he was walking with his cane again, taking the Slytherin by surprise. "I'm sure we could do a deal. You could put it on top of the fireplace where your father would normally put the photos of you." Some of the crowd laughed. Some of it gasped. It was like performing a pantomime.

"I see you still have this freak speaking for you, Potter? What is it? Are you too scared to stand up for yourself? Too much of a coward?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry growled angrily.

"You're just jealous," Colin shouted, finding a dose of bravery that no one had been expecting. "Because no one would ever want a photo with you or your face in it."

"Jealous? I've got nothing to be jealous about." Malfoy sneered down at the smaller boy. "Everyone's fascinated with Potter just because of the scar on his head. I don't need a deformity for attention. And I'd advise you to watch what you say to me, whoever you are. You won't be so courageous when you're all on your own."

"Is that what it's come to, Malfoy?" Harry asked. "Threatening kids younger than you because you know you wouldn't be able to beat anyone in your own year?" The crowd took in a breath at the insult. Some Slytherins shouted some rather unpleasant words at him.

"Is that what you think? If so, then let's do this right now. I'll show what a proper wizard looks like. You won't be able to give your signed photos away for free by the time I'm done with your face."

"What seems to be the matter here?" another voice entered the ring. "What's this about signed photos?" Lockhart forced himself through the crowd that had surrounded them, getting a look at what was going on. "Mister Potter…we meet at last!"

The bell rang, signalling the start of class, which sadly happened to be Defence Against the Dark Arts. As the students dispersed, Harry found that Lockhart had forced an iron grip on his shoulder, leading him to the castle. He looked helplessly back at his friends, who were heading in the same direction but couldn't match the pace at which Lockhart was walking, purposefully trying to get Harry away.

"You remind me of me, you know," the professor said. "Having to handle the fame. Thankfully, I didn't have such burdens at your tender age although my enormous popularity means I've certainly made up for time lost. If you don't mind, I might add a small critique to your photographic skills. You looked rather…stilted. Your smile wasn't as wide as it could have been and your body language was all over the place. If you like, I'll give you lessons on how to fine tune your skills. There's nothing wrong with asking for assistance from your fellow celebrities."

Harry wondered what a full blown critique would have looked like. "Um…I'll keep that in mind, sir. Thank you."

"You should be careful though. Taking photographs so easily. I know you thought you were being nice and everything, treating the little people like they're on the same level as us, but if you give them an inch, they'll take a mile. Just a polite warning."

Harry didn't particularly enjoy the fact that Lockhart kept referring to them as 'us', as if they knew each other or were remotely the same. He chose to keep his mouth shut. He couldn't tell if the professor noticed his silence, he liked the sound of his voice that much.

"I was hoping to have met you in Diagon Alley," he remarked, a bit too casually for Harry's liking. "I was signing books, you see. Nearly every Hogwarts student filed into that tiny shop but…not you."

"My friend…he picked them up for me."

"Shame," was all Lockhart murmured.

When they finally reached his classroom, Harry straightened his robes and headed for the back row of desks, piling up all seven of his class books in front of him so that he didn't have to look at the real thing. With other students beginning to flow into the room, he nudged them aside so that Hermione and Matthew could actually spot him. The former seemed quite perturbed that they were so far away from the front row, her typical habitat, but she still reluctantly stuck by her friends.

"I don't like him," was Harry's response when he saw them looking at him in concern.

The lesson was just as pointless as Harry had expected based on the person who was teaching it. A surprise pop quiz started them off but, instead of questions actually concerning the topics they needed to learn, everything was about Lockhart's personal life. His favourite colour, his secret ambition, his ideal dinner party guests. Harry wanted to tear his hair out. He could see Hermione scribbling down her responses though Matthew sat with his arms crossed, evidently refusing to do it. Harry wished he had the bravery to do the same but he continued to make wild guesses nonetheless.

Lockhart wasn't too pleased with the poor standard of answers. He visibly blanched at Matthew's effort but chose not to say anything for the first time since Harry had had the misfortune of meeting him. Hermione was praised for getting every single one of the questions right, but even she didn't seem too pleased about it.

"I knew you read all of his books but knowing all of these stupid, pointless facts?" Matthew hissed to her in a whisper. "I'd never stoop so low."

"Perhaps he wants us to understand who he is so we can then understand his teaching methods?" Hermione offered, her tone nowhere near as sure as it normally was.

Lockhart was too busy producing a covered cage to pick up on their quiet discussion. He looked extremely pleased with himself, enjoying the attention being on him. "I must warn you all!" he bellowed as if he were on stage. "It is my job to arm you against the foulest, most terrifying creatures that this world has to offer. This class will pit you against your deepest, darkest fears but let me assure you that at no point will any harm befall you as long as I am here. A trained professional, a master of magic. All I ask from you is that you remain calm."

Harry was, for once, intrigued with what he had to say. Finally this lesson was going to be exciting. Quirrell had never taught them anything remotely interesting, the man always a nervous wreck, even if that had eventually been discovered to be a facade. The entire class leaned forward as Lockhart placed his hand on the cloth.

"Do your best to hold your screams in," he said. "It will only provoke them." With a practiced flourish, he unveiled what lay beneath. "Yes, your eyes do not deceive you! Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!"

Matthew let out a snort of laughter. "You can't be serious."

"You won't be so rudely dismissive when you have to deal with them yourselves."

Without warning, he opened the cage and chaos was unleashed. The pixies shot out in every direction like runaway trains, having the same destructive effect too. Ink bottles were thrown, shattering against the walls and desks. Parchment flew through the air like paper birds. Neville Longbottom was taken by his ears and dragged into the air, only coming down when both Matthew and Harry were able to grab hold of his legs. Lockhart wasn't much use. Acting cocky, he produced his wand, uttered an incantation and…nothing happened. If anything, his attempts seemed to anger the small creatures, who descended on and swarmed around him. His wand was thrown out the window and he retreated almost immediately, hiding behind his desk for cover. With the bell ringing, and all of their other classmates getting out of there as fast as their legs could carry them, it was down to the remaining trio to sort this mess out.

Hermione targeted them one by one, freezing them with a neat charm. Matthew swung his arm in a graceful arc, immobilising several at once. It was Harry's job to run around, collecting them and storing them away. By the time they had finished the task, even Lockhart had scarpered away, not checking to see what the end result of his teaching had been.

"Can you believe what just happened?" Harry asked them.

"We should give him the benefit of the doubt," Hermione advised. "It's his first day after all. He might be nervous. I'm sure even he can get nerves."

"Oh, of course you're defending him," Matthew said bitterly, finding a pixie still clinging to his shoe and pausing to deal with it. "Accept it, Hermione. He's a buffoon."

"He could have hurt a lot of kids today," Harry added. "If Neville had been dropped, he would have been going straight to the hospital wing. He has the most rotten luck, that boy."

"But…he wrote all those books," Hermione protested. "He's an expert in his field! Maybe he just had an off day. Can you really judge a man on one incident?"

"One more chance," Matthew begrudgingly responded, holding up a finger to emphasise his point. "If he does something like this again, I swear he'll be gone before he can pose for another photograph."