Harry nimbly dodged the flames, but the Horntail's massive tail whipped toward him like a spiked club. He yanked his broom hard to the left—the deadly spikes missed him by inches! Then, just as he thought he was safe, the Hungarian Horntail suddenly swayed like a drunkard, staggered twice, and crashed to the ground with earth-shaking force.
"Has Harry Potter slain the dragon?" Bagman roared through his amplified voice. "The beast has clearly been felled by some means—it's fallen into deep slumber!"
Harry glided gracefully past the unconscious dragon and plucked the golden egg from its nest. The crowd exploded in a cacophony of cheers and screams that rivaled the Irish supporters at the Quidditch World Cup.
"Magnificent!" Bagman bellowed. "Absolutely magnificent! Our youngest champion has claimed the golden egg in record time! This will certainly narrow the gap between Mr. Potter and his fellow champions!"
Harry flew to the arena's edge, where Professor McGonagall and Hagrid waited with obvious relief, speaking to him in animated, pleased tones.
The judges' scores materialized in shimmering silver: Dumbledore and Minister Bones each awarded nine points, Bagman gave a perfect ten. Madame Maxime displayed an eight, while Karkaroff—completely abandoning all pretense of fairness—conjured a pathetic four. The Gryffindor section erupted in furious boos.
"Harry's got forty points," Hermione calculated quickly. "We need to see how he is!"
Orli grabbed Hermione's hand and they pushed through the crowd, racing down the stairs toward the champions' tent. They'd barely made it halfway when footsteps pounded behind them.
"Wait up!"
Ron gasped, catching up with them, his face still pale from the tension.
"Look who's finally seen sense," Hermione said with a pointed glare. Ron pressed his lips together, clearly shaken by what he'd just witnessed.
They burst into the tent together. Harry sat there looking dazed, dust streaking his face, the golden egg clutched against his chest as if he couldn't quite believe it was real.
"Harry, you were incredible! Absolutely brilliant!" Hermione shrieked, throwing her arms around him.
Orli's eyes swept over Harry methodically, finally confirming that not only had he secured the golden egg, but he appeared completely uninjured. From the adjacent tent came Cedric's pained groans and Madam Pomfrey's brisk, authoritative voice—clearly treating burns and other wounds.
Ron stared at Harry for a long moment before speaking, his voice unusually serious.
"Harry... whoever put your name in that Goblet—they're trying to kill you."
"Took you long enough to work that out," Harry replied coldly.
Ron opened his mouth, clearly wanting to apologize, but Harry cut him off.
"Forget it."
"No, I shouldn't have—"
"Forget it," Harry repeated firmly.
Ron gave him a sheepish, awkward grin. Harry smiled back—tentative, but genuine.
Suddenly, Hermione burst into tears.
"You're both complete idiots!" she wailed, stamping her foot as tears streamed down her cheeks. She buried her face in Orli's shoulder, and Orli found herself stroking Hermione's bushy curls—they felt remarkably similar to Crookshanks' fur.
"What's there to cry about?" Harry asked, completely bewildered.
"Absolutely barking," Ron muttered, shaking his head in confusion.
"Well," Orli said, glaring at both boys while wearing the biggest smile imaginable, "looks like you two are friends again."
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