From the very first week of term up until now in November, Malfoy's arm had been wrapped in bandages the whole time, and Slytherin's excuse for postponing the match was also that Malfoy's injury had not yet healed.
But two months had passed, and this was the wizarding world—Malfoy's injury should have healed long ago. What's more, Madam Pomfrey had said that Malfoy's injury was very minor.
Eda couldn't help wondering: a minor injury that hadn't healed in two months—did the Malfoy family not have the money to pay for potions? The scheming frog keeps touching your belly—Draco Malfoy was faking his injury!
That way, Malfoy could freely boss Harry and Ron around in Potions class, and he could also put pressure on the Ministry of Magic, pushing an already biased Ministry to sit firmly on his side.
"Look at me, I'm injured like this, it's been more than two months and I'm still not healed. If you don't execute that hippogriff beast, are you worthy of all the money the Malfoy family donated?"
Of course, little princess Malfoy might not have that kind of brain, and maybe Eda was judging a gentleman with a villain's heart. But Eda felt that Lucius Malfoy should have that kind of brain. If he didn't, then Eda would immediately write a letter to her grandmother.
The letter would have only six words: Stupid people, lots of money, come quickly.
If she didn't fleece the Malfoy family for a huge sum, it would be an insult to the many years of "affection" between pure-blood families.
Malfoy sat on the ground in a daze, his mind completely blank. Eda's words made him realize just how impulsive and how foolish he had been just now.
He remembered Mr. Malfoy's lesson from last year: when most people see Harry Potter as the hero who drove away the Dark Lord, it is unwise not to pretend to like him.
He also remembered Mr. Malfoy's lesson from this year: do not casually provoke that half-blood from the Rosier family—being valued by two old monsters is definitely not because of a pretty face.
However, before Draco Malfoy could fully grasp his father's teachings, a flood of curses and insults dragged him back into reality.
Slytherin was already the least popular house in the school, and Malfoy was a standout even among Slytherins. If there were a ranking for the most disliked people, Malfoy would definitely be near the top.
There was no need for Eda to remind anyone—everyone had seen Malfoy push someone just moments ago, clear as day. What was really going on with that "injured" arm was now obvious to all.
Malfoy faking an injury and Slytherin adjusting the match schedule didn't just screw over one Gryffindor. All the houses had to revise their match strategies, while only the Slytherin team, which knew in advance about the change, didn't have to do anything.
Rested and prepared, taking advantage of others being caught off guard, Slytherin's chances of winning rose sharply, and with them, the possibility of taking the Quidditch Cup.
At first, when Malfoy was injured, aside from a few curses from Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw had kept their distance, acting as if it had nothing to do with them. Even just now, their criticism of Malfoy had been out of sympathy for the weak—something they might have forgotten by tomorrow.
But now, Malfoy's fake injury had directly touched on everyone's own interests. Slytherin's underhanded move had suddenly cut into the share of three houses, and that was bound to provoke widespread outrage.
There was no helping it—Quidditch was the most popular sport in the wizarding world, with that kind of irresistible appeal.
When the law doesn't punish the masses, and when an opportunity like this might never come again, the crowd condemning Malfoy's despicable behavior suddenly grew much larger.
Those with grudges settled scores, those with complaints vented them, and those with none made some up on the spot. The Great Hall boiled with resentment.
Even if Malfoy wanted to argue back, he had nothing he could say. Besides, he knew better than anyone what the situation with his arm really was.
Draco Malfoy might not have been as despicable as Eda imagined, but he was indeed a beneficiary of his own actions, and he didn't deserve any less of the scolding he was getting.
Fortunately, the students present were restrained enough not to lay hands on Malfoy. Otherwise, he probably wouldn't have had a single patch of unbruised skin left. If that had really happened, Eda would have had to step in to stop it—chaos was the most dangerous thing of all.
On one side, Malfoy, along with Pansy Parkinson, Crabbe, and Goyle, was swallowed up by the vast sea of angry students.
On the other side, the Slytherin students were strangely quiet, indifferent to Malfoy's plight.
Where there are people, there is politics. Even Eda couldn't have absolute authority within Gryffindor, let alone Draco Malfoy, who was always used to ordering people around.
Within Slytherin, there were plenty of students who looked down on Malfoy.
Cody Avery was one of them. What Avery despised most about Malfoy was his thick-headedness—provoking Harry Potter brought absolutely no benefit, yet Malfoy did it with enthusiasm, for reasons no one could understand.
Blaise Zabini also looked down on Malfoy. Zabini was acquainted with him and in the same year, but he was never Young Master Malfoy's subordinate. Not only did he despise Draco Malfoy, he even held Lucius Malfoy in contempt.
Marcus Flint had always protected Malfoy, but today the Slytherin Quidditch captain wasn't here.
For the past couple of days, Flint had been avoiding Eda, afraid she would cause trouble for him over the schedule change. Early that morning, when Flint saw Eda walk into the Great Hall with a sour expression, he immediately fled.
Parkinson and the others who wanted to stand up for Malfoy lacked the ability to do so, and could only endure the scolding alongside him. Those who did have the ability to help Malfoy didn't want to get involved—they had no desire to escalate things and turn a war of words into a four-house brawl.
As for Draco Malfoy, he would just have to bear it. As long as the benefits were big enough, no one was truly indispensable. And in any case, Draco Malfoy had never been that important.
Left completely without support, Malfoy could only sit there blankly on the floor, looking aggrieved like a child. Then again, he was a child.
Fortunately, class time was about to begin. Some of the people who were tired of yelling chose to head off to lessons. Fortunately as well, Eda had no intention of killing Malfoy. Seeing that things had gone far enough, she decided it was time to stop.
Over on the Slytherin side, they also felt it was enough. Today, Malfoy was a disposable piece, but this piece would still be useful in the future—it couldn't be completely ruined.
The prefects, likewise worried about things spiraling out of control, were the first to step forward. They began persuading students to disperse and urging everyone to stop while they could. Cody Avery and Blaise Zabini also came over, constantly speaking conciliatory words, hoping that today's incident could end here.
With the combined efforts of the prefects and the two Slytherin students, the remaining crowd gradually dispersed, and the stream of insults ringing in Malfoy's ears finally faded away.
Yet Malfoy still didn't get up. He sat there blankly, as if he'd been scolded stupid. Pansy Parkinson looked at Eda with tear-filled eyes full of resentment, attributing everything that had happened to her beloved Draco entirely to Eda.
"Just watch over your Draco, Pansy. Don't look around everywhere," Blaise Zabini advised tactfully.
"Watch your eyes, Parkinson!" Cody Avery had no such restraint; his tone was openly sharp. After rebuking Pansy Parkinson, Avery turned to Eda and said, "About what happened today?"
Avery knew that Eda's attitude was the key. If she didn't intend to let it go, scenes like today's would happen again. He realized that the girl who had beaten him soundly in first year had, without him noticing, grown to this point—no longer an impulsive little girl who only knew how to throw punches.
"That's the end of it," Eda said. She had never intended to beat Malfoy down in one blow. If Malfoy hadn't kept jumping around in front of Gryffindor, she wouldn't have bothered with him at all.
Avery let out a sigh of relief. He really didn't want to be cleaning up Malfoy's messes every day. He said, "Thank you."
"No need." Eda waved her hand to signal that it wasn't important. "Help me pass a message to Flint.. I'd really like to have a chat with him."
Then Eda walked over to Malfoy. She bent down and crouched, keeping her eyes level with Malfoy, who was sitting on the ground. Eda asked, "Draco Malfoy, do you know why you ended up like this today?"
The clear, crisp female voice sounded to Malfoy like a demon's whisper.
Eda's gaze made him intensely uncomfortable—he didn't dare meet her eyes at all. Malfoy lowered his head even further, avoiding her stare.
"You've gone too far, Twist!" Pansy said through her tears. The little girl who looked like a toy poodle clung tightly to Malfoy, glaring fiercely at Eda, already prepared to fight her to the death.
Eda ignored the girl's shrill noise and continued speaking to herself, "I vaguely remember asking you this question before, but you clearly didn't understand it at all. So let's put it another way."
At that moment, Mentor Twist came online, and Draco Malfoy finally lifted his head. His eyes, however, were unfocused—being denounced by so many people today was far too much stimulation.
"Setting aside this so-called 'half a Rosier,' I am still me," Eda said slowly, word by word. "Rosier has never brought me any glory. But what about you? Strip away the Malfoy name—what do you have left? Can you still act so willfully at school? Do you have anything at all that people could praise?"
The moment those four questions were asked, Malfoy's head, which he had just raised, drooped again.
"If you won't answer, then I will," Eda went on. "Nothing. Without the Malfoy name, you're nothing. Those two stupid lackeys of yours won't follow your lead anymore, Flint won't clean up your messes for you, and even your little girlfriend will abandon you."
Pansy Parkinson looked extremely unconvinced. She wanted to refute Eda, to prove that her love for Draco wasn't something that could be measured by money. But Eda didn't give her the chance.
"I'm not trying to slander your relationship," Eda said, turning her head to Pansy, "but ask yourself honestly—if he weren't a Malfoy, would you still be so… mm… recklessly devoted?"
Eda straightened up and muttered, as if deliberately—or perhaps unintentionally..
"Bullshit love."
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