The scoreboard was flashing BULGARIA: 160, IRELAND: 170 across the crowd, who didn't seem to have realized what had happened. Then, slowly, as though a great jumbo jet were revving up, the rumbling from the Ireland supporters grew louder and louder and erupted into screams of delight.

"IRELAND WINS!" Bagman shouted, who like the Irish, seemed to be taken aback by the sudden end of the match.

"KRUM GETS THE SNITCH - BUT IRELAND WINS - good lord, I don't think any of us were expecting that!"

"What did he catch the Snitch for?" Ron bellowed, even as he jumped up and down, applauding with his hands over his head. "He ended it when Ireland were a hundred and sixty points ahead, the idiot!"

"He knew they could never beat Ireland," Charlie said. "He ended it on his terms."

Dudley, personally, felt it was a dumb movie. All Bulgaria needed was one goal and they could have got a tie.

Behind them, Lockhart was applauding. "Excellent catch, excellent!" he was saying to the short Bulgarian dignitary beside him. "Of course there were a few moments when he could have caught it sooner—perhaps scraped a win. I saw the snitch hovering near the third Irish goal when they just 80 points up!

Ron gave Dudley a meaningful look.

""He was very brave, wasn't he?" Hermione said, leaning forward to watch Krum land as a swarm of mediwizards blasted a path through the battling leprechauns and veela to get to him. "He looks a terrible mess..."

Dudley put his Omnioculars to his eyes again. It was hard to see what was happening below, because leprechauns were zooming delightedly all over the field, but he could just make out Krum, surrounded by mediwizards. He looked surlier than ever and refused to let them mop him up. His team members were around him, shaking their heads and looking dejected; a short way away, the Irish players were dancing gleefully in a shower of gold descending from their mascots. Flags were waving all over the stadium, the Irish national anthem blared from all sides; the veela were shrinking back into their usual, beautiful selves now, though looking dispirited and forlorn.

"That was a lot of fun," Luna said, reaching for the Onioculars. Dudley gave them to her so she could take a look at what was happening. "Kramp was very brave, wasn't he?"

"Kramp!" Ron snorted with disgust. "It's Krum! Krum!"

Dudley laughed.

"Maybe international quidditch is a bit more exciting than football," Dean admitted quietly to Dudley. "Just don't let Ron know I said that."

Behind them, Dudley could hear Fudge arguing with the Bulgarian minister about something.

Dudley's eyes were suddenly dazzled by a blinding white light, as the Top Box was magically illuminated so that everyone in the stands could see the inside. Squinting toward the entrance, he saw two panting wizards carrying a vast golden cup into the box, which they handed to Cornelius Fudge.

"Out of the way, out of the way!" Lockhart called, forcing his way forward. "I am the very special celebrity guest, you know!"

He pushed his way to stand next to Fudge and took a small mirror out of his pocket to make sure his hair looked perfect.

"Excellent, budge up a bit, Cornelius," he said brightly. "That's the ticket."

Lockhart had positioned himself on Fudge's right so that the players would have to walk past him to reach the cup. Dudley knew he had stood there as it was the prime position for photographs.

"Let's have a really loud hand for the gallant losers - Bulgaria!" Bagman shouted.

And up the stairs into the box came the seven defeated Bulgarian players. The crowd below was applauding appreciatively; Dudley could see thousands and thousands of Omniocular lenses flashing and winking in their direction.

One by one, the Bulgarians filed between the rows of seats in the box, and Bagman called out the name of each as they shook hands with their own minister, then with Lockhart who was stood in between them and then with Fudge. Krum, who was last in line, looked a real mess. Two black eyes were blooming spectacularly on his bloody face. He was still holding the Snitch. Dudley noticed that he seemed much less coordinated on the ground. He was slightly duck-footed and distinctly round-shouldered. But when Krum's name was announced, the whole stadium gave him a resounding, earsplitting roar.

"Excellent game, Viktor, great flying," Lockhart said, shaking his hand and beaming. "I was a seeker myself, you know. Could have played for England."

"Oh," Krum said, in a tired sounding voice.

"I pioneered a few tactics of my own … perhaps I could show you them …" Lockhart said.

Krum, however, had moved on leaving behind a slightly disgruntled looking Lockhart.

And then came the Irish team. Aidan Lynch was being supported by Moran and Connolly; the second crash seemed to have dazed him and his eyes looked strangely unfocused. But he grinned happily as Troy and Quigley lifted the Cup into the air and the crowd below thundered its approval. Dudley's hands were numb with clapping.

"Excellent performance," Lockhart said loudly, shaking hands for a second time with Tommy Troy, the Irish seeker. He actually nudged Barry Ryan, the Irish keeper out of the way to force himself into shot. He beamed appreciatively as the camera from a photographer for the Daily Prophet flashed.

At last, when the Irish team had left the box to perform another lap of honor on their brooms (Aidan Lynch on the back of Conolly's, clutching hard around his waist and still grinning in a bemused sort of way), Bagman pointed his wand at his throat and muttered, "Quietus."

"They'll be talking about this one for years," he said hoarsely, "a really unexpected twist, that ... shame it couldn't have lasted longer...Ah yes...yes, I owe you...how much?"

For Fred and George had just scrambled over the backs of their seats and were standing in front of Ludo Bagman with broad grins on their faces, their hands outstretched.