Kayson crouched on the second floor, watching Draco and the hippogriff downstairs—Buckbeak, as Hagrid called him—without taking his eyes off them.
He knew Draco far too well. Though it was not nice to say this about a third-year wizard, the truth was... Draco was a young wizard who loved asking for trouble.
He had no doubt that Draco might pull some stunt just to stand out, like slapping Buckbeak right off the bat and forcing him to kneel so he could ride him for a lap around the sky.
Not that such a thing could not be done, but at Draco's current level...
Before long, however, the scene downstairs let his heart drop from his throat back into his chest. After a long internal struggle, Draco finally decided to play it safe and follow the proper steps.
He gave Buckbeak a slight bow.
"Eye contact, Mr. Malfoy. Watch his eyes. You need to maintain eye contact with Buckbeak," Hagrid reminded him at just the right moment.
Draco raised his head. At that moment, his posture was as bizarre as the wrist of some man-eating tree cult's gesture.
Unfortunately, Buckbeak did not seem to appreciate it. He lowered his head, pulled up a blade of grass from the lawn, chewed it, then suddenly spat at Draco without warning.
Kayson nearly burst into tears and wanted nothing more than to smack himself with a Wither skull. He had calculated everything, except this.
Draco's personality had already improved by far compared to when he had first arrived at Hogwarts. After all, he had endured plenty of punishment from alchemy—some from Kayson's Redstone grinding, some from the other professors, and some from Neville's exclusive skill of taking flight.
But Buckbeak was being a little absurd. Kayson could understand him not liking Draco; no law