Fred and George's wish for the match to last five days, in the end, didn't come true.
About an hour into the game, Ireland's Lynch spotted the Golden Snitch, and Krum saw it too.
The little golden ball with wings hovered about five feet above the ground.
They both dove toward it at incredible speed.
"They're going to crash into the ground!" Hermione screamed!
"No, they won't!" Ron said firmly. "Krum is the best Seeker!"
"But Lynch will!" Harry, Cedric, and Charlie shouted almost at the same time.
They were right. Lynch crashed heavily to the ground for the second time.
The Veela shrieked with excitement, swarming toward the Leprechauns and laughing shrilly at them.
Krum, meanwhile, managed to steady his broom at the last second, skimming along the ground before he rose lightly into the air, raising his fist high, with a flash of gold glinting between his fingers.
"Krum caught the Golden Snitch! The game is over!" Harry shouted.
The scoreboard flashed the final score: 170 to 160.
"Ireland wins!" Bagman cried, though his voice carried a clear note of confusion, as if he was as baffled by the sudden end as everyone else.
"Krum caught the Golden Snitch, but Ireland won... My goodness, I don't think anyone expected it to end like this!"
It wasn't just him; most of Bulgaria's supporters were equally bewildered.
To them, Krum had already stopped Lynch. By rights, he shouldn't have gone for the Snitch until his teammates brought the score gap within one hundred and fifty points.
That's how Quidditch matches had always been played in the past.
Like last time—the match went for five days because the score gap was simply too huge... The trailing team's Seeker just dragged it out and did everything possible to block the other side from catching the Snitch.
But Krum... Many people thought that ending the game while Ireland still led by one hundred and sixty points was pure foolishness.
"Maybe he realized they couldn't possibly catch up," Kael said, glancing at the disappointed Ron. "The gap between the Chasers was too big; his decision was correct. Ending the match now was the best option."
Losing by ten points is a shame, but at least it sounds better—in public, they could say it was a close call.
If they kept going and lost by five hundred or even a thousand points, that would be truly embarrassing.
Not only would it be shameful, the players' reputation would be ruined, so ending it now was the smartest choice.
Kael looked back toward the pitch.
The Leprechauns were zipping delightedly through the air above, but even so, you could see Bulgaria's players crowded around Krum, shaking their heads, all looking utterly dejected.
Not far away, Ireland's champion team was jumping and cheering, their mascot showering down another rain of gold coins.
The Veela were back to their dazzling beauty, but now they all looked droopy and miserable.
"I'm telling you, we played bravely." From behind Kael came a heavy voice—the Bulgarian Minister of Magic.
"Right, absolutely..." Fudge responded automatically, but then suddenly froze.
"Wait, you—you understood me just now? So you've had me gesturing and miming all day?"
"Hey, it was fun, wasn't it?" The Bulgarian Minister shrugged.
Fudge looked apoplectic, and even when he was presenting the trophy to the champions, he didn't appear happy at all.
Meanwhile, the Bulgarian Minister kept smiling broadly, as if they were the real victors.
At this moment, Bagman pressed his wand to his throat again, "Sonorus."
"I dare say this match will be talked about for years," he croaked. "What a twist... Pity it didn't go on longer."
He glanced down at the pitch.
The game was over and it was time to leave, but some people weren't heading for the exits—they were moving in the opposite direction, toward the top box.
Almost all of them were wearing clover accessories, joking and laughing among themselves.
Bagman spotted them, and his expression suddenly changed, turning rather grim.
"Sorry, Arthur," he broke off his conversation with Mr. Weasley. "I've got something to take care of—see you around."
With that, he hurried off, disappearing into the crowd in a blink.
Mr. Weasley led everyone else down the stairs.
"Hey, Arthur." At the exit, a bearded wizard blocked their way. "Have you seen Ludo? I remember you were up in the top box too."
"He left after the Minister presented the trophy," Mr. Weasley replied. "Why, Owo?"
"Oh, nothing." The bearded wizard grinned. "It's just that generous Ludo owes me my ticket money—Ireland won, it only lasted less than a day, and he owes me fifty Galleons!"
"Congratulations, then." Mr. Weasley said with a smile.
"Ha ha!" The wizard waved cheerily. "Off to find Ludo—see you next time."
"See you."
...
By the time Mr. Weasley, Kael, and the others finally got back to the campsite, it was already very late, but that didn't dampen anyone's celebratory mood in the slightest.
Raucous singing echoed across the night sky, Leprechauns kept zipping overhead, swinging their lanterns and laughing uproariously.
"Can we go home now?" Kael asked, glancing at the deep darkness.
"Afraid not," Mr. Weasley shook his head. "No one thought the match would end so quickly—Portkeys still need to be organized."
"What about Apparition?" Kael continued.
"That won't work either," Mr. Weasley said. "Most of this area is protected by Anti-Apparition Charms, and there are Ministry staff patrolling. Only the field where we arrived is a designated Apparition Zone—see there..."
He pointed ahead.
A long line snaked all the way to the campsite entrance, as far as the eye could see.
Kael frowned.
"What's wrong?" Mr. Weasley asked.
"Nothing," Kael said. "It's just so noisy—I doubt I could sleep here."
"Oh, you're right about that," Mr. Weasley grumbled. "Thank goodness I'm not on duty—I'd never be able to persuade them to quiet down after that win. Unthinkable."
He looked at Kael, pondered for a moment, then said, "All right, you're right, it's impossible to sleep here. I'll go find Arnold—if he agrees, we can Apparate from somewhere outside the camp."
Saying that, he left the tent.
Kael stood at the door and watched for a while.
On the other side of the campsite, the songs and odd banging sounds echoed through the night—it looked like they intended to celebrate until dawn.
...
Twenty minutes later, Mr. Weasley finally came back.
"So..." Kael started to ask but was ushered into the tent.
"Quick, wake everyone up!"
Mr. Weasley's face was grave. "Someone attacked Arnold—I got there just in time to see him knocked down in the woods by a hooded man."
"Who was it!" Bill, not yet asleep, immediately pulled out his wand.
"No idea. I couldn't see his face." Mr. Weasley shook his head. "I've already alerted the Aurors—we'll be safest if we stay inside the tent until they find the culprit. That's Scrimgeour's advice too."
"It must be those Bulgarian supporters," Bill said angrily. "They lost, so now they want to cause trouble to vent their anger!"
Mr. Weasley said nothing, but in his heart, he was inclined to agree.
Everyone was woken up—they got dressed, packed their things, and sat waiting in the tent.
The whole thing had given Mr. Weasley a sense of unease—he was worried those sore losers might stir up more trouble. As soon as the Aurors caught the culprit, he planned to leave right away.
"Honestly, what do they want?" Ron complained, yawning. "Why now, of all times?"
He was so tired, sitting by the little table, nodding off. "Aren't they worried the Aurors will..."
But before he could finish, Kael suddenly noticed that the sound outside had changed.
The singing had stopped, replaced by screams and the noise of people running in panic.
"Arthur!" Someone pulled open the tent flap—it was one of the Aurors from the top box earlier.
He spoke quickly, "Something's not right—there are too many of them. Be careful!"
With that, he hurried off with his wand at the ready.
"We're leaving!" Mr. Weasley decided instantly. "Hurry—we have to get out of here!"