Chapter 185: The Unlucky Trio
Hearing the soft snickers echoing by his ears, Malfoy glared darkly at those people. "What are you laughing at? What's so funny?"
Crabbe and Goyle also bared their teeth, doing their utmost to look fierce, and angrily swept their eyes over those who were laughing nearby. The lower-years slightly reined in their smiles under their glare. Some of the timid ones even ducked their heads, pretending to focus on the soup before them, only daring to sneak glances at Malfoy and the others from the corners of their eyes.
But the upper-years were not afraid of Malfoy's trio. Their laughter not only failed to stop; it grew louder. Malfoy stared furiously at those upper-years. His lips moved, but in the end, he still failed to spit out words to rebuke them. After all, they had studied at Hogwarts for a few more years than he had, and the two sides' levels of magic were not on the same plane at all. If he played the hero with his mouth and provoked them, once conflict broke out, they would certainly be the ones to suffer.
With a huff, Malfoy raged inwardly, shifted his gaze away, pretended not to hear the voices, and with a stony face headed for the Slytherin table. He walked very carefully all the way, practically needing to see everything on the floor before he would cautiously lift his foot and set it down slowly. Because lately, for reasons unknown, it was as if Lady Luck had stripped away all his fortune. Whatever he did turned out unlucky. Even walking on level ground, he would trip and fall from time to time. After countless spills over the past few days, he had developed a psychological shadow.
Reaching the Slytherin table safe and sound, Malfoy let out a breath. Relaxing his vigilance a bit, he raised his eyes and looked around, searching for an empty seat.
"Goyle, Crabbe, let's go over there." Catching sight of a few friends in Slytherin, Malfoy turned his head and spoke to the two behind him. Having said that, Malfoy lifted a hand to greet those few and stepped that way.
Just then, as a Slytherin student to the side stood up, his sleeve inadvertently swept across the tabletop. A metal tray piled with greasy pies was accidentally knocked flying.
Clang—
The tray slid to the floor, and the pies it held rolled everywhere. One piece happened to land right in front of Malfoy. His foot came down as if onto black ice—or as though he had put on skates.
Whoosh—
Like a bolt of lightning, he shot down the aisle between the two house tables at astonishing speed. The students in the Great Hall were dumbstruck at the sight. So the rumors were true. Someone really could be this unlucky. Those nearby reacted and hastily leaped aside, drawing their feet in with care, afraid to obstruct Mr. Malfoy's hurtling dash.
Malfoy screamed in panic, flailing both hands wildly in the air as his body tilted at an angle no ordinary person could manage. The pie under his foot scraped along the floor, leaving a wet trail until it was worn away completely. The force propelling Malfoy vanished at once. His body wobbled and then—bang—he slammed hard to the ground.
Malfoy let out a cry of pain and clutched the parts that hurt from the fall. Not wanting to remain the focus of everyone's attention, he fumbled to scramble up. But no sooner had he stood than shrieks sounded from behind. He turned his head instinctively.
Crabbe and Goyle, in the exact same posture as he had been, were tilting and windmilling their arms as they hurtled straight towards him.
"You two, stop right now!" Malfoy's face changed. He hurried to dodge, but it was already too late.
"Draco, we can't control it!" Crabbe and Goyle screamed, and with unerring accuracy, they smashed into Malfoy head-on.
Malfoy's face twisted with pain. Struck by the huge force of two human cannonballs in succession, he was blasted into the air, body horizontal, and crashed down hard behind him.
Crash—
The long table laden with food was overturned by Malfoy. Sausages and pies flew through the air and—with a splat—one smacked onto his face. The Hufflepuff students let out a collective groan of regret. So many delicious foods had fallen to the floor—what a waste!
Right after, Crabbe and Goyle wore looks of terror. Their two bulky bodies wobbled and then, like boulders, came crashing down without mercy.
"No!" Malfoy's face was full of despair. He struggled with all his might, but still could not escape the fate of being pinned under Goyle and Crabbe.
"Are you all right, Malfoy?" A Slytherin upper-year leaned in and asked, looking at Malfoy's vacant eyes.
"I—I'm fine. Just a small mishap…" Malfoy plucked the pie off his cheek and tossed it aside, forcing out a smile.
"That's good. To be honest, you lot have been a bit unlucky lately," the Slytherin upper-year said. He reached out to help Malfoy and the others up, but then, fearing he might catch their bad luck, he hesitated, drew back his hand, and flicked his wand instead.
An invisible force hoisted the three to their feet. Once they were steady, a faint breeze whisked by and carried away the grime on their clothes.
"Thanks, Urquhart," Malfoy said to the person before him, then ducked his head and found a place to sit.
With a whoosh, the people around scattered, all shifting farther away. Only a few students who didn't believe in jinxes sat at a distance, some even greeting Malfoy.
Just then, a hubbub broke out from the ceiling. Hundreds of owls swarmed in and wheeled over the Great Hall. Clutching parcels of all sizes, they found their recipients and, like high-altitude bombers, dropped letters and packages straight down.
One enormous parcel landed before Neville with a thud, making the whole table shake and splashing soup everywhere.
"It's something from my Gran," Neville said excitedly, taking the note off the parcel. "And she specially made biscuits for you!"
"No wonder it's such a big bundle!" Hannah said with a laugh. "Neville, did you forget a lot of things at home again?"
A bashful flush rose to Neville's face. Scratching his head, he said, "Actually, not that many. I checked several times before I left…"
Elsewhere, Malfoy stared up at the owls with trepidation, constantly dodging the falling parcels. It was as if those owls had marked him. Any parcel belonging to someone seated near him would always come down squarely on his head. Malfoy kept his focus until the owls had delivered all the packages; only then did he breathe out softly.
But just as he was about to lower his head and continue eating, a mass dropped from above and—snap—burst across his right cheek. Malfoy raised a trembling hand and, with a quivering finger, gently wiped his face, staring at the black, sticky, stinking stuff on his fingertip.
"Mum, I can't take it anymore. I want to go home!" Malfoy cried out, tears streaming in fury and grief.
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