Draco Malfoy, as always, had his own plans.
He shoved Daphne aside and declared himself Jane Yu's partner.
Draco wasn't a fool. Before class, he had already played a game on his console that involved raising magical creatures.
Hippogriffs were no easy creatures to handle. According to the game's instructions, even if you bowed respectfully and showered them with compliments, there was still a 30% chance of failure. And if you failed, retreating still carried a 10% chance of getting swiped by their claws, which would cost your character an entire health bar.
Draco had been that unlucky player. Three times in a row, he hit the lowest probability, losing all three health bars and collapsing on the spot. Frustrated, he had pounded the table in fury. Now, just seeing a Hippogriff made him shiver.
But Jane was different.
Ever since their encounter with the three-headed dog, Draco had known that Jane was a natural when it came to handling magical creatures.
As long as he stuck close to her, dealing with a mere Hippogriff would be a breeze!
Clinging to someone capable... Draco considered himself an expert at selecting the right partner for the Malfoy family.
He specifically chose Buckbeak, claiming that as Slytherin's leader, they couldn't lose to Potter.
Everything unfolded as Draco had imagined. Buckbeak was unusually docile in Jane's presence.
"So—you lent the console to Potter?" Draco asked casually as he stroked Buckbeak's beak after they both bowed to it. "I bet he's not as good as me, right?"
Jane was busy preening Buckbeak's feathers, which the creature seemed to enjoy immensely. Its orange eyes squinted in pleasure as it tilted its head toward her, signaling that its crown needed attention too. It half-lay on the ground, utterly content.
The question about gaming skills left Jane momentarily stumped.
After all, it was like asking a two-meter-tall person whether they looked down on someone who was 160 cm or 165 cm tall—there wasn't much difference.
Gaming skills were similar. To her, Draco and Harry were practically the same.
"Uh... actually, you both..."
As she tried to diplomatically phrase her response, Buckbeak suddenly stood up. Its feathers bristled, and it let out a warning screech, glaring fiercely at the neighboring group.
"Move, Yu! Get out of the way!"
It was Ron and Hermione's voices! Their reddish-brown Hippogriff had, for some reason, taken offense at Buckbeak. The two creatures flapped their wings and began attacking each other. Sharp beaks tore out feathers, and razor-like claws scattered shiny scales all over the place.
Jane seized the opportunity to grab a few feathers—they looked perfect for making quills and potion ingredients.
"Ah—!"
In the chaos, steel-like claws flashed, and Draco, who hadn't dodged in time, let out a scream as he fell to the ground clutching his arm. Jane immediately cast a Shield Charm on him to prevent further injury and dragged him to safety.
The other Hippogriffs, startled by the commotion, began running and flying around, creating utter chaos.
Jane glanced at the reddish-brown Hippogriff and seemed to understand.
It was molting, with many old feather shafts still clinging to its head, causing discomfort and irritation.
Buckbeak, having Jane as its caretaker, naturally made the other Hippogriff jealous—
And resource and territory disputes were common among magical creatures in the wild.
This was instinct, something even domestication couldn't completely suppress.
And Draco, standing too close to Jane, was perceived by the reddish-brown Hippogriff as competition for her attention.
Hagrid tried to regain control, struggling to separate the creatures and put collars on them.
"I'm dying!" Draco groaned on the ground, clutching Jane's sleeve with his bloodstained robes. "It's going to kill me!"
The initial shock of being clawed quickly passed. Perhaps because of his desensitization from dying three times in the game, Draco wasn't overly panicked. Instead, he came up with a brilliant idea.
If he played up his injury in front of Jane, she would surely feel guilty and take him to the hospital wing, showering him with care and sympathy as the injured party.
Then he could monopolize the console and demand that she stop lending it to Flint or that wretched Potter.
But reality didn't align with his imagination.
Jane said nothing. Before he could react, he found himself being roughly hoisted into the air by Hagrid:
"You're not going to die!"
The bumpy journey to the hospital wing made Draco feel nauseous.
The incident had left most of the students in shock. Many had narrowly avoided being trampled by the frightened Hippogriffs. Now, not only Slytherins but also Gryffindors began complaining about Hagrid.
"He should be fired!" Pansy Parkinson shouted loudly, tears welling up in her eyes as she recalled her near-miss with one of the creatures' hooves. "I'm writing to my father, and Mr. Malfoy will hear about this too!"
Harry, Ron, and Hermione, out of loyalty to Hagrid, wanted to defend him but found themselves at a loss for words. The chaotic scene had made them realize, for the first time, just how dangerous these XXX-class magical creatures could be.
When Jane finished her classes for the day and returned to the common room, she found Draco already there.
He was proudly showing off his bandaged arm to the others, as if it were a medal:
"That kind of beast? It's nothing to me! I'll be fine in no time!"
"Just like in the game, I know them well. I've defeated them countless times!"
But as soon as he spotted Jane at the door, Draco dramatically flopped onto the back of the sofa, groaning:
"Ah—it still hurts!"
"Injuries caused by magical creatures are so hard to heal—who knows if my arm will ever be the same again?"
If Jane hadn't overheard his earlier bragging, she might have believed him.
He deserved an Oscar for his performance, she thought.
While Jane didn't buy it, it was unclear if the others did. But one person certainly did—
Pansy Parkinson.
She sat down beside Draco, sniffling and sobbing as she tried to comfort him:
"Oh—are you alright, Draco?"
"I know you're in so much pain. I've already written to my father and Mr. Malfoy—"
"What?" Draco frowned, his gray eyes filling with displeasure. "Why did you write to my father? Do you think I can't speak for myself?"
Pansy was left speechless.
Daphne let out a derisive snort.
She and Pansy were sworn enemies. During class, Pansy had even tried to push her toward the Hippogriff's claws amid the chaos.
She felt she could no longer follow her father's advice to maintain a superficial friendship with Pansy.
Draco, meanwhile, was still grumbling, demanding Jane return the console he had lent her that morning. He groaned and moaned, trying to elicit her sympathy.
He claimed that without it, his impeccable character would be ruined.
"But your arm is injured," Jane pointed out. "I don't believe you can play with one hand."
Draco's groaning caught in his throat.
Frustrated, he slammed his good arm on the common room table, making a loud bang:
"Who says I can't? Didn't you hear Madam Pomfrey say I need to keep moving it to recover? Besides, I can play one-handed!"
Jane mercilessly refused his request.
Draco was flustered.
But being prideful, he couldn't bring himself to undo his bandages and reveal his deception in front of everyone. He could only glare helplessly.
Pansy, oblivious to his predicament, continued to sob and unintentionally added insult to injury:
"Oh—poor Draco, you'll have to keep the bandages on until next week."
If Draco hadn't understood what it meant to shoot oneself in the foot before, he certainly did now!
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