Watching the four of them fly away at high speed, the imp helplessly withdrew its outstretched hand.
Even if a Portkey did not move through space the way Apparition did, but instead hurled its target away at extreme speed, there was still no way he could have stopped them, even if his magic had been twice as fast.
But how had the Portkey been triggered?
Tver had no interest in continuing the match. With a wave of his hand, the distant imp flew straight back to him and merged into his head.
His gaze remained fixed on the trophy, now glowing nearly halfway.
After thinking for a moment, he suddenly reached out and grabbed it without hesitation. But aside from the cold touch of the handle against his palm, nothing happened.
So the Portkey on the trophy was a decoy?
No. The magic on it was real. More precisely, it would only become a Portkey thirty minutes after Tver arrived here.
The real Portkeys were the badges Harry and the others had been wearing.
He immediately remembered what Barasha had said when explaining the rules. Protective badges provided by a certain Hogwarts professor...
That professor had never been Tver. It had been Alastor Moody.
He had turned the badges into Portkeys and then handed them openly to the four champions under the cover of the rules.
As for the trigger...
The magic inside them being used up?
The thought struck Tver at once.
If a fight was unavoidable, then with his strength, defeating the four champions had always only been a matter of time.
And the faster he beat them, the sooner they would be transported away.
That explained Barty Jr.'s silence all this time.
With Tver as an unforeseen variable, Barty Jr. no longer needed to help Harry win the championship. All he needed to do was alter the badges and influence Dumbledore into changing a few rules.
How elegant...
Even Tver could not help shaking his head in admiration.
If he had not known where Harry and the others were being sent, then even if he and Dumbledore were both standing here right now, they would be completely at a loss.
Too bad for him, I'm a transmigrator.
A faint smile appeared on Tver's face.
Of course, if his teacher had not made him a champion, he likely would have kept his attention on the trophy and never thought to consider Barty Jr.'s other little tricks.
Then again, Barty Jr. might never have thought of using the badges as Portkeys if things had happened differently.
The chain of cause and effect here was complicated. But no matter what, he had become a champion, and he knew Voldemort's intention and the place where he planned to resurrect.
...
Harry felt his feet hit the ground. His legs gave out, and he collapsed onto the hard earth.
"Where are we?"
One hand pressed against his head, still dizzy from magical exhaustion, while the other braced against the ground to keep him from falling flat.
Cedric, who was in slightly better condition, got to his feet and shook his head. Noticing that Harry might not be seeing clearly, he quickly pulled him up.
Then he looked around and said uncertainly, "We must have been transported a long way by Portkey. It looks like... a Muggle graveyard?"
"Do tournament rules say that if you lose, you get expelled from school?" Fleur muttered irritably.
The run-down gravestones made her frown, but what bothered her even more was the lifeless, eerie stillness all around them.
"Wait, Tver never actually defeated us, did he?" Viktor's eyes lit up. "The badges just ran out of magic, and then we got sent here!"
"But unless we can get back in fifteen minutes, there is no way to stop Mr. Fawley from taking the trophy," Fleur said crossly.
"The badge?" Cedric's attention, however, had settled on that small object.
He looked down at his chest. The badge's power had clearly been drained dry. Not only could it no longer emit even the faintest glow, there was even a slight crack running across it.
The magic inside it had been completely overdrawn.
"We were brought here by the badge! The badge is the Portkey!" he said loudly, voicing his guess.
His shout immediately drowned out Viktor's muttering about going back to keep fighting, as well as Fleur's complaints about their surroundings.
By then, Harry had recovered somewhat from the discomfort of the Portkey trip and the magical drain, and he moved to stand beside Cedric.
"A badge? No wonder Tver wasn't transported. He was the only one not wearing one!"
Viktor immediately understood what Cedric meant.
Fleur looked at her badge in surprise, clutching it tightly.
"Then if we activate the Portkey magic on it, we can go back?"
"I'm afraid not. This badge is completely ruined. The magic in it has already dissipated." Cedric shook his head, dashing her hopes.
"Unless one of us can cast an illegal Portkey spell."
"We don't even know how to cast a legal one, let alone an illegal one!" Viktor slumped in frustration.
Every country's Ministry of Magic has a department dedicated to creating Portkeys, but only those who join after graduation ever get the chance to learn that magic. The Ministry does not forbid wizards from studying it on their own, but it strictly prohibits actually using it.
Because of that, schools and most books never teach it. After all, people willing to break the law are always in the minority.
"Don't be in such a hurry to leave. I went to quite a lot of trouble. I sincerely wanted to invite you here as my guests…"
A hoarse voice, filled with a strange excitement, suddenly echoed through the air.
At the same time, two figures stepped out of the shadows, one tall and one short. Harry wished they had never appeared at all.
Voldemort, and Peter Pettigrew.
Suddenly, Harry's scar exploded with pain like never before. His vision went black, and the agony drove him to his knees. His wand slipped from his hand, but he did not even notice.
Cedric immediately crouched beside him.
"Are you alright?!" he asked urgently.
Harry could only shake his head weakly. It took all his strength just to lift a hand and point toward Voldemort.
Cedric's expression hardened with anger as he stood up. Sensing something was wrong, Viktor and Fleur tightened their grips on their wands, their faces tense as they stared at Voldemort.
Voldemort wore a thin black robe. In the cold night wind, his body looked gaunt and skeletal beneath it.
"What did you do to Harry?!"
"Who are you?"
"Why did you bring us here?!"
"Who am I? Heh… I never expected that after just a little more than ten years, the wizarding world would no longer recognize me." Voldemort lowered his head and let out a chilling laugh.
Enduring the splitting pain in his head, Harry grabbed at Cedric, trying to stop him from stepping forward. But he was too weak. He could not pull him back at all.
Seeing Cedric raise his wand, the previously silent Peter Pettigrew suddenly spoke.
"Master, shall I deal with these brats? Your resurrection is far more important." He bent low in flattery, his hand quietly slipping toward the pocket where his wand was hidden.
"Put away your little schemes," Voldemort said coldly, idly twirling his wand. "This body of mine still has some strength left. Just enough to have some fun with these ignorant fools."
"Avada Kedavra!"
A streak of green light shot forward at blinding speed, illuminating Cedric's shocked expression in an eerie glow.
As sudden as the Killing Curse itself.
Harry's head finally eased a little, but he did not even have time to react. His mouth hung open, yet no words came out.
Time seemed to freeze in that instant.
The professor had said that a normal Shield Charm could not block a Killing Curse.
For the first time, Harry hated himself for remembering that so clearly. And he hated even more how powerless he was in this moment.