Chapter 464: Celebration

Fred and George's hope for a five-day match wasn't to be. About an hour into the game, Lynch from the Irish team spotted the Golden Snitch—and so did Krum. The tiny, golden-winged ball hovered just five feet above the ground.

Both Seekers accelerated, diving at breakneck speed.

"They're going to crash!" Hermione cried.

"No chance!" Ron said confidently. "Krum's the best Seeker out there!"

"But Lynch might beat him to it!" shouted Harry, Cedric, and Charlie almost in unison.

They were right. Lynch hit the ground hard for the second time, crashing spectacularly. The Veelas shrieked with excitement, and several rushed toward the Leprechauns, laughing wildly.

Krum, however, managed to pull up at the last second, skimming the ground before rising smoothly into the air. He raised his fist triumphantly, the Snitch's golden glow visible between his fingers.

"Krum's got the Snitch! The game's over!" Harry shouted.

The scoreboard updated with a flash: 170–160.

"Ireland wins!" Bagman announced, though his voice held a note of confusion, as if the sudden end had caught him off guard. "Krum caught the Snitch, and Ireland won… I don't think anyone expected that!"

He wasn't alone in his bewilderment. Many Bulgarian supporters seemed equally puzzled. In their eyes, Krum should have stalled, allowing his teammates a chance to narrow the score gap. After all, in previous tournaments, losing teams often stretched games for days to prevent the other team's Seeker from ending the match.

But Krum… Many thought he'd been foolish to catch the Snitch with Ireland so far ahead.

"Maybe he knew they couldn't close the gap," Kyle suggested, noticing Ron's look of disappointment. "The Irish Chasers were unstoppable, and Krum was right to end it when he did."

Losing by only ten points was regrettable, but it kept the defeat respectable. If the game had continued, Bulgaria might have lost by hundreds, maybe even a thousand points. Not only would that have been humiliating, but it could have tarnished their reputation. For Krum, it was the perfect moment to concede.

Kyle glanced around the stadium. The Leprechauns were darting through the air, overjoyed, while the Bulgarian players gathered around Krum, looking disheartened. A short distance away, the Irish team, reveling in their victory, was dancing with their mascot, who showered the crowd with gold coins once more.

The Veelas had returned to their beautiful forms, but each of them looked defeated, their earlier glow dimmed.

"We fought bravely," a heavy voice behind Kyle murmured. It was the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.

"Yes, of course…" Fudge replied absently, before pausing in sudden realization. "Wait—you understood me all along? And you let me stand here drawing pictures all day?"

The Bulgarian minister shrugged, smiling. "It was entertaining, wasn't it?"

Fudge fumed, and even as he awarded the trophy to the Irish team, he looked anything but pleased. Meanwhile, the Bulgarian minister beamed as if they'd won.

Bagman raised his wand to his throat once more, muttering "Quietus" to soften his voice.

"I daresay this match will be talked about for years," he said hoarsely. "What a twist… shame it didn't last longer."

He glanced down from the box.

The game had ended, and spectators began to make their way out. Yet some people, instead of heading toward the exits, were making their way toward the Top Box. They were all clad in shamrock-themed gear, chatting animatedly.

Bagman noticed them too, and his face tightened, a look of unease flickering across it.

"Sorry, Arthur," Bagman said hastily, cutting his conversation short with Mr. Weasley. "I've got a few things to take care of. See you next time."

With that, he quickly left the box and disappeared into the crowd in a flash.

Mr. Weasley led the group downstairs.

"Hey, Arthur," called a bearded wizard as they neared the exit, "Have you seen Ludo? I heard you were in the Top Box just now."

"He left right after the Minister handed out the trophy," Mr. Weasley replied. "Is something the matter, Ogden?"

"Oh, nothing," the bearded wizard said with a cheerful grin. "Just that generous Ludo owes me for the tickets. Ireland won, and since the game didn't drag on, he lost fifty Galleons to me!"

"Then congratulations are in order," Mr. Weasley chuckled.

"Haha!" the other wizard laughed, waving as he went. "I'll go hunt down Ludo. See you next time."

"See you next time."

By the time Mr. Weasley, Kyle, and the others finally returned to the campsite, it was late at night. But the hour did little to dampen anyone's spirits. The rough sounds of singing echoed through the night sky, with Leprechauns darting overhead, waving their lanterns. Laughter and cheers filled the air.

"Can we head back now?" Kyle asked, glancing at the starless sky thick with the sounds of revelry.

"I'm afraid not," Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No one expected the match to end so soon, and it'll take a while to set up the Portkeys again."

"What about Apparition?" Kyle suggested.

"That's out too," Mr. Weasley said. "There are Anti-Disapparition Jinxes around the campsite, and the Ministry's keeping watch. Only the field where we arrived is open for it, see…"

He pointed to a line of people in the distance, stretching endlessly back to the entrance of the camp.

Kyle frowned.

"What's wrong?" Mr. Weasley asked.

"Just that it's so noisy here," Kyle replied. "I doubt I'll get any sleep."

"Oh yes, I suppose you're right," Mr. Weasley muttered. "Good thing I'm off duty; otherwise, I'd have to try and quiet them down."

He considered Kyle for a moment, then said, "All right, you've got a point. It's not exactly peaceful. I'll go find Arnold and see if we can Apparate just outside the camp boundary."

With that, he stepped out of the tent.

Kyle stood in the doorway, watching as Mr. Weasley disappeared into the bustling campsite. Across the camp, the singing and odd clanging noises continued, growing louder, as if the revelers planned to keep celebrating Ireland's victory all night long.

...

Twenty minutes later, Mr. Weasley returned, his face grim.

"What…" Kyle began, but Mr. Weasley quickly ushered him into the tent.

"Quick, wake everyone else up!" he ordered urgently. "I just saw someone attacking Arnold. By the time I got there, he was already down, struck from behind by someone in a hood."

"Who was it?" Bill, who hadn't gone to sleep, drew his wand immediately.

"I couldn't see their face," Mr. Weasley replied, shaking his head. "I've alerted the Aurors, and until they find whoever's behind this, we'd better stay in our tents. That's what Scrimgeour wants as well."

"It must be those Bulgarian supporters," Bill muttered angrily. "They lost the game and now they're trying to cause trouble to vent their frustration!"

Mr. Weasley didn't respond, though he seemed inclined to agree. He quickly roused everyone, instructing them to dress, pack their things, and wait inside the tent. The attack on Arnold left him with a growing sense of unease, worried that any pent-up anger from the game could lead to further disturbances. He was prepared to leave as soon as the Aurors located the culprits.

"Honestly, what do those people want, and why now?" Ron grumbled, barely awake. He slumped at the small table, head nodding in drowsiness. "Aren't they afraid of the Aurors…"

He didn't get to finish, because suddenly Kyle noticed a different sound coming from outside. The singing had ceased, replaced by frantic screams and the sounds of people running.

"Arthur!" One of the Aurors who had been in the Top Box earlier burst into the tent, his face tense. "It's worse than we thought—there are too many of them. Be careful!"

With that, he dashed out again, wand at the ready.

"Let's go!" Mr. Weasley decided instantly. "We need to get out of here now!"