The days after the storm passed left Hogwarts wrapped in a chill that clung to its stones. The sky, a dull silver, mirrored the mood within the castle: tense, expectant, like the air before lightning.
It started with a whisper. A muttered comment in the hallway. A shove outside the Potions classroom.
Draco, clearly still stinging from Lennon's takedown in the courtyard, had begun pushing back—not just with words but through subtle provocations that spread through the student body like wildfire.
It was only a matter of time before the rivalry ignited.
---
Lennon knew it was coming when Harry rushed into the Gryffindor common room one afternoon, his face flushed with anger.
"He tripped Neville," he snapped. "Right down the stairs. And then laughed."
Ron slammed his book shut. "Let's hex him. Just once. He deserves it."
Hermione frowned. "That won't help anything."
Lennon stood slowly. Her eyes darkened, not with rage, but something colder—calculated. "Then we do something better. We show him up. Publicly."
Fred leaned over from where he and George had been eavesdropping. "What're you thinking, oh fearless leader?"
"A challenge," Lennon said. "A Slytherin-Gryffindor duel. Two champions. School rules, but public. Let's give the whole castle something to talk about."
George whistled. "You're serious."
"Deadly."
---
It took less than a day for the idea to reach Draco.
And it took even less for him to accept.
"You'll regret this," he told Lennon in the corridor, surrounded by his usual entourage. "Slytherins don't lose."
"You should tell that to your dignity," Lennon replied. "It's been missing since the last time you opened your mouth."
Mattheo, standing behind Draco, exhaled softly through his nose—a laugh, maybe. He met Lennon's gaze for a second too long.
Behind him, Theodore looked thoughtful.
Lorenzo grinned like he was enjoying the show.
---
The duel was scheduled for Saturday night in the unused classroom on the third floor. Students whispered about it during meals, in hallways, between classes.
By the time the night came, half the school seemed to have shown up.
Fred and George stood guard at the door.
Oliver stood at Lennon's side, arms crossed. "Don't get expelled."
"You'll miss me if I do."
Harry clung to the back of the crowd, eyes wide with excitement. Hermione hovered nearby with her arms full of books, muttering about defensive spells. Ron was practically bouncing.
Across the room, Draco stood smugly in Slytherin green.
His second? Mattheo.
Lennon raised a brow at that. He met her look but said nothing.
"Let's get on with it," Draco said. "I've got better things to do."
"Like what? Cry about your hair?"
Gasps and snickers filled the room.
Flitwick had agreed to oversee the duel—on the condition that it remained strictly non-lethal.
"Wands at the ready," he squeaked. "Bow... and begin!"
---
Draco struck first—a quick Stinging Hex that Lennon easily dodged.
She retaliated with a Trip Jinx that sent him stumbling. He snarled and whipped his wand in a tight circle, sending a barrage of sparks her way.
Lennon grinned, deflecting with practiced ease.
Their duel became a dance—spell, dodge, counter. Draco was flashy, aggressive, all flourish and fire. Lennon was precise, fast, and unpredictable.
It wasn't long before she had him on the defensive.
She disarmed him with a flick of her wrist, his wand flying across the floor.
Silence.
And then cheers.
Draco looked stunned. Furious.
Mattheo retrieved his wand and handed it back wordlessly. He didn't say, "You lost," or "She beat you." He didn't have to.
It was written in every eye in the room.
---
Later that night, as the Gryffindors celebrated with sweets and Butterbeer in the common room, Lennon slipped out, needing air. She walked the quiet halls until she found herself near the Astronomy Tower.
Of course, he was already there.
"You always win," Mattheo said.
She leaned beside him on the railing. "No. I just don't stop until I do."
A pause.
"You made him look like a fool."
"He did that himself."
Mattheo studied her. "You're different. From what I expected."
"You're exactly what I expected. Mysterious. Quiet. Brooding."
He smiled faintly.
"Why him?" she asked suddenly.
"Draco?"
She nodded.
"Because he needs people. He doesn't realize it, but he does. And... not everyone gets the chance to choose different."
Lennon thought about that.
"You're not like him."
"No," he said. "And neither are Theodore or Lorenzo. But we play our parts. For now."
She looked out over the castle grounds. "You don't have to. Not always."
His eyes found hers. "Maybe not."
And for the first time, Lennon didn't see a rival, or even a mystery.
She saw someone else walking a tightrope, just like her.
---