Author's Note: Have you ever wondered why the Harry Potter characters don't just do the logical thing that clearly would have worked? Well, so have I, and I wrote a fic on it. I got this idea days after reading another "logically thinking" Harry Potter fic, and in no way do I consider myself to be copying the author. Also, I may not continue this fic.
Cedric was standing feet from the Triwizard Cup, which was gleaming behind him.
"Take it, then," Harry panted to Cedric. "Go on, take it. You're there."
But Cedric didn't move. He just stood there, looking at Harry. Then he turned to stare at the cup. Harry saw the longing expression on his face. Cedric looked back at Harry again, and took a deep breath.
"You take it. You should win. That's twice you've saved my neck in here."
"That's not how it's supposed to work," said Harry. He felt angry. "The one who reaches the cup first gets the points. That's you."
"No," said Cedric stubbornly.
"Stop being noble, just take the damn thing!" shouted Harry.
"You told me about the dragons, if it weren't for you, I'd have died in the first task."
"I had help on it too! You told me about the egg! We're even!"
"I had help on the egg in the first place!"
"We're still even," said Harry irritably.
"You should've gotten more points on the second task—you stayed behind to save all the hostages."
"Oh my God, why do you keep reminiscing? Anyway, that was only because I was thick enough to take that song seriously!" he said bitterly. "Just take the damn cup!"
"You take it!" said Cedric stubbornly.
"This is going nowhere! We're never going to reach an agreement! Let's take it together and get it over with!"
"Okay," Cedric agreed, a grin breaking over his face.
They both grasped a handle.
Instantly, Harry felt a jerk somewhere behind his navel. His feet had left the ground. He couldn't unclench the hand holding the Cup; It was pulling him onward in a howl of wind and swirling color, Cedric at his side.
He felt his feet slam into the ground; his injured leg gave way, and he fell forward; he let go of th Cup at last and raised his head.
"Where are we?" he asked.
"I dunno," was his intelligent response.
They had left the Hogwarts grounds completely; they had obviously traveled miles—perhaps hundreds of miles—for even the mountains surrounding the castle were gone. They were standing instead in a dark and overgrown graveyard; the black outline of a small church was visible beyond a large yew tree to their right. A hill rose above them to their left. Harry could just make out the outline of a fine old house on the hillside.
Cedric looked down at the Triwizard Cup and then up at Harry. "The Cup was a Portkey!"
"No duh!" Harry exclaimed, looking around the graveyard. "Dude, this is gay," he said to Cedric.
"I totally agree," said Cedric. "Let's go back to Hogwarts. If the cup is a Portkey, it'll take us back."
So Harry and Cedric grabbed the Portkey and went back to Hogwarts. Because they actually chose the smart way out, Voldemort never got his body back, Cedric didn't die, and all of the Wizarding World didn't think Harry was mental for saying Voldemort had returned