For Gryffindor, courage meant daring to fight—especially when facing Slytherins they couldn't stand.
Intense physical conflict was undoubtedly the most direct and primitive form of expression, even holding a certain appeal for them.
But when the one getting beaten was a Gryffindor, it wasn't quite so appealing.
Facing the rain of punches, Ron roared furiously but couldn't break free from Draco's hold.
"Malfoy! Stop it!"
Harry rushed forward, trying to stop Malfoy, but Crabbe blocked his path.
"Scarhead, you want a beating too?"
Crabbe's seemingly honest smile carried a hint of viciousness. He cracked his knuckles, clearly wanting to teach the savior a lesson.
"Get out of the way, Crabbe, or else—"
"Enough talk!"
Before Harry could finish, Hermione stepped onto a chair, leaped from behind him with her Herbology textbook raised high, and brought it down hard on Crabbe's head.
A dull thump echoed.
Crabbe's eyes went blank as he shook his head dazedly, staggered forward two steps, then toppled forward powerlessly, crashing heavily to the floor.
Seeming to realize she'd hit too hard, Hermione stepped back uncertainly.
"Merlin's knickers!"
"What did I just see?"
"Is that Granger, the know-it-all?"
"That second-year bookworm?!"
The Gryffindors stared in shock while the Slytherins murmured in barely concealed admiration.
To them, that clean, decisive strike was beautiful—worthy of Father's friend.
"Well done!"
"Using a Herbology textbook? Seems our definition of weapons is too limited."
"Not just that—Granger's appearance is quite deceptive."
"Right, excluding the fact that Crabbe's an idiot, most people would easily overlook her."
"If it were us..."
Very analytical discussion spread through the Slytherin ranks.
Unlike other houses' protection and unity for the weak, Slytherin unity never included waste.
Crabbe and Goyle had talent—Slytherin had no fools, the little snakes could see that. But these two were used to pretending.
What they didn't know was that pretending to be idiots too long would eventually make them actual idiots.
The little snakes studied Hermione thoughtfully. This bushy-haired lioness suddenly became a little squirrel when she met Tiger's amused gaze...
"Alright, Draco."
"We should get to class. Don't waste time on dead weight—luck won't protect him forever."
Hearing Theodore's cold voice, Draco finally released Ron's collar and stood up. Looking at Harry's indignant expression, he sneered.
"Potter..."
"Are your so-called friends the kind who drag you into breaking your neck or getting expelled?"
"How amusing..."
The classic drawl overflowed with mockery.
Draco didn't spare Harry another glance, striding back to the Slytherin group with his head held high.
Under the new students' admiring gazes, he brushed away nonexistent dust with elegant movements, smoothing the wrinkles from his robes. Every gesture displayed pure-blood aristocratic bearing.
"Did you see that, Pansy!"
"That Weasley pauper was pathetic! I'm writing to Father to tell him how brilliant I was!"
Moments later, Draco's excited whisper reached his friends' ears.
"Yes, yes, you're the best." Pansy and the others nodded with weary resignation.
Draco's clumsy imitation of his father Lucius was embarrassing enough to make them curl their toes...
Just as the Slytherins prepared to leave, Tiger suddenly turned back toward the Gryffindor students, lips curving in a particularly wicked smile.
"Fellow Gryffindor warriors."
"This school year, Slytherin House's focus will no longer be limited to the Quidditch pitch."
"I'd like to propose a challenge..."
Feeling Tiger's predatory gaze, the Gryffindors stepped back half a pace, eyes full of wariness, while the little snakes looked at Tiger with surprise and confusion.
"Right here at Hogwarts—a thrilling survival competition between lions and serpents."
"As long as the professors don't catch you, anytime, anywhere, by any means..."
His low, husky voice was like a demon whispering in their ears, carrying an imperceptible yet irresistible allure that seemed to penetrate solid psychological defenses, silently slipping into the deepest desires of the little lions' souls.
The Gryffindors couldn't help swallowing, their heartbeats rising rapidly with Tiger's increasingly quick speech.
"Think about it, Gryffindor warriors."
"In this ancient, solemn castle, night raids lurk like shadows, ambushes strike silently. Every shadow, every sound could be a deadly trap."
"Potions weave fragrance with danger—each drop might be the key to turning the tide."
"Spells bring light and opportunity, echoing through every corner of the castle to claim glory."
"In this war without gunpowder, wisdom and strength are equally important, strategy and courage walk together."
"Who!"
Tiger's voice suddenly stopped.
His greedy, excited gaze swept over the Gryffindors, whose breathing grew heavier.
"Is the true victor?"
The moment his words fell, the deepest stirrings in the Gryffindors' hearts were completely awakened. Like rain after a long drought, they craved and desperately wanted some unknown yet intense satisfaction.
What was this?
This was violence—humanity's most primitive desire, memories buried deep in genetic sequences, echoes from pure instinct.
"Gryffindor?"
"Or Slytherin?"
Sensing the little lions' restlessness, Tiger's wicked smile grew richer, his oppressive gaze turning toward Ron and Harry.
"Momentary impulse isn't courage."
"True warriors grow stronger with each battle."
"Abandon those pointless arguments—history tells us only victors deserve to give orders..."
Ron's face instantly flushed red. His breathing ragged, he stared straight at Draco as if already seeing him beaten to tears.
As he spoke, Tiger's mocking gaze shifted to Hermione. The know-it-all was now grinding her teeth furiously.
She didn't need to think to know how chaotic Hogwarts would become...
"Hey! Shelby!"
"Will you participate?"
Angelina suddenly called out loudly.
As Gryffindor's most challenging and adventurous girl, she was already eager. And if they were going to fight, fight the strongest!
Seeing Angelina's eager expression, Tiger suddenly burst into laughter.
The Slytherins joined in, laughing as if they'd encountered the most ridiculous thing. Even the most dignified male prefect Burstrode couldn't help laughing until tears appeared.
"I won't join the competition. You're too weak—it wouldn't be fair to you."
Tiger answered bluntly.
But to Gryffindor, this was undoubtedly an insult. The little lions' eyes flashed with anger.
Noticing this, Tiger shook his head with a smile.
"But if you're interested..."
"You're welcome to ambush me anytime..."
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