Picking up the golden egg and his Firebolt, feeling more elated than he would have believed possible an hour ago, Harry ducked out of the tent, Ron by his side, talking fast.

“You were the best, you know, no competition. Cedric did this weird thing where he Transfigured a rock on the ground… turned it into a dog… he was trying to make the dragon go for the dog instead of him. Well, it was a pretty cool bit of Transfiguration, and it sort of worked, because he did get the egg, but he got burned as well—the dragon changed its mind halfway through and decided it would rather have him than the Labrador; he only just got away. And that Fleur girl tried this sort of charm, I think she was trying to put it into a trance—well, that kind of worked too, it went all sleepy, but then it snored, and this great jet of flame shot out, and her skirt caught fire—she put it out with a bit of water out of her wand. And Krum—you won’t believe this, but he didn’t even think of flying! He was probably the best after you, though. Hit it with some sort of spell right in the eye. Only thing is, it went trampling around in agony and squashed half the real eggs—they took marks off for that, he wasn’t supposed to do any damage to them.”

Ron drew breath as he and Harry reached the edge of the enclosure. Now that the Horntail had been taken away, Harry could see where the five judges were sitting—right at the other end, in raised seats draped in gold.

“It’s marks out of ten from each one,” Ron said, and Harry squinting up the field, saw the first judge—Madame Maxime—raise her wand in the air. What hooked like a long silver ribbon shot out of it, which twisted itself into a large figure eight.

“Not bad!” said Ron as the crowd applauded. “I suppose she took marks off for your shoulder…

Mr. Crouch came next. He shot a number nine into the air.

“Looking good!” Ron yelled, thumping Harry on the back.

Next, Dumbledore. He too put up a nine. The crowd was cheering harder than ever.

Ludo Bagman—ten.

“Ten?” said Harry in disbelief. “But… I got hurt… What’s he playing at?”

“Harry, don’t complain!” Ron yelled excitedly.

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Professor Moody looked very pleased too; his magical eye was dancing in its socket.	\|	And now Karkaroff raised his wand. He paused for a moment, and then a number shot out of his wand too—four.

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