Later, Harry was unable to explain how he had managed. Accidental magic, most likely. But in that second, utterly exhausted, hurt and confused, far away from Hogwarts, he knew that he would never forgive himself if he let Cedric die. This was his fight. Always had been. With overwhelming clarity, Harry had realised, when hearing that bone-chilling voice, that everything had been a ploy, an elaborate scheme to get him right here, right now, consequences for everyone else be damned. So, he exploded, knocking Wormtail off his feet, right into Cedric's arms, who clutched the traitor reflexively. Beyond caring, about his chances of survival, Harry hectically looked for the Triwizard's Cup. In a swift motion, he summoned it straight into Cedric's arms. The boy wanted to protest, but the portkey activated on impact, whisking both the Hufflepuff and the traitor away. Relieved, Harry sank against a headstone, but not for long, as the creepy voice snickered, "This unusual display of wit will not save you, Mr. Potter. You will die today. Avada Kedavra!"