Harry Potter and the Triwizard Gambit - Chapter - 6

From the very first light of dawn, the lands surrounding Highgarden came alive.

The golden mist still hung low over the fields when the distant honk of a magical horn echoed across the hills. Moments later, a hulking purple shape rolled into view—wobbling slightly on its oversized wheels.

The Knight Bus had arrived again.

It came to a rattling stop just outside the Highgarden boundary, where shimmering protective wards danced faintly in the early morning sun. One by one, excited faces pressed to the glass. Robes and cloaks fluttered as the doors swung open, and Star Club members poured out in excited clusters, shouting greetings and stretching stiff legs after long journeys from every corner of Britain and Ireland.

Another crack sounded nearby, and green fire whooshed through the newly-installed Highgarden Floo gates, as members from wizarding families arrived in bursts of flame and laughter. Within minutes, the once-empty southern lawn was bursting with life.


Jason Miller stood near the grand entry arch of Highgarden, eyes wide as the crowd swelled.

He’d been counting. He knew the exact number: eighty-six Star Club members in total. And now, one by one, they were arriving.

The twins—Fred and George—were already wading through the mass, shouting names, pulling people into bear hugs, distributing enchanted badges that blinked “STAR CLUB – VIP” in gold lettering.

“Roslyn!” Fred bellowed. “You got taller!”

“Twins! Give that back!” shouted a third year Ravenclaw, chasing after George who had clearly stolen her hat.

Jason’s eyes darted to a group of awestruck first-years—half a dozen of them standing frozen at the front gate, luggage still levitating behind them as they stared, open-mouthed, at Highgarden itself.

The manor stretched above them like something out of a painting—its silver-blue spires reaching into the sky, ivy-covered balconies hung with floating lanterns, and windows that blinked or waved depending on their enchantments. But even more impressive were the grounds.

Magical creatures roamed freely along the southern slope—mooncalves, crup pups, flutterby goats, and even a pair of long-necked thunderbirds gliding in the distance.

One of the girls whispered, “Is that a… unicorn?”

Jason walked up beside them, grinning. “That’s three unicorns.”

He waved them forward. “Come on. We’ve got a lot to see before we leave.”


By late morning, the lawn had transformed into a lively camp of excited voices, flying luggage, enchanted snack carts, and students swapping stories.

“I took care of four bowtruckles this summer,” one boy boasted to a crowd.

“You raised bowtruckles?” a girl gasped. “My mum wouldn’t even let me adopt a puffskein.”

“Did you see the article Luna wrote for the last Star Magazine?” someone shouted. “It had runes I couldn’t even translate!”

Remus Lupin stood near the eastern fountain, clipboard in hand, checking names as they came in, shaking hands with the young students and gently reminding them not to race broomsticks near the greenhouse.

Beside him, Sirius Black—in full event-day attire, dark sapphire robes over a white shirt, hair neatly tied back—gave orders to the Starbroomstick employees who will be working as a security team.

“I want eyes on the crowd. Anyone acting funny, wand out of place, you report to me. These are our kids today—no exceptions.”

The Starbroomstick staff had all been granted leave to attend the World Cup—most were thrilled. But some, especially the logistics crew, had volunteered to supervise and assist with the mass portkey travel. They wore matching silver cloaks with the company crest on the shoulder, and moved through the crowd efficiently, distributing passes and enchanted water flasks.


Harry arrived just after noon, appearing with a quiet pop near the manor’s west wing. He wore robes of deep navy trimmed in silver, a sleek wand holster at his wrist and a black messenger bag slung across his back.

“Alright,” he called out, his voice magically enhanced across the grounds. “This is it. Everyone gathered? That means it’s time.”

Cheers erupted across the field.

Jason ran up beside him. “Did you talk to Dartmoor security?”

Harry grinned. “Entire Star Club section is reserved. They added more seats last night. Food’s included. Screens, program booklets, team banners—everything.”

“Even Butterbeer?”

“Bottomless.”

Jason’s grin could have powered a Patronus.


The crowd gathered near the Portkey Field, a broad flat space just beyond Highgarden’s eastern orchard. A dozen glowing portkeys were arranged in a wide circle—battered boots, old kettle lids, twisted copper rods, and even a few official Ministry-issued tokens. Each pulsed faintly with magic.

Fred and George took charge organizing groups.

“Touch the kettle if your last name starts with A through G!”

“H through M, to the boots!”

“Can I touch the cauldron?” one younger student asked nervously.

“It smells like toffee,” said another.

Sirius stepped to the front. “Everyone, listen up. Once the Portkeys activate, you’ll be transported directly to the security ring around Dartmoor. Star Broomsticks team will guide you through to the camping site. Stay in your groups. Stay calm.”

Remus added, “You’ll see your names on floating signs once inside. We’ll all regroup in the Star Club box. No wandering alone. This is an international crowd—play smart.”

Harry raised a hand.

“This is our family. Look around you. We built this from the ground up. Whatever happens in that stadium—no matter who wins or loses—we’ve already proven something bigger: We belong together.”

The students erupted in cheers.

Jason stood with his hand on a copper rod, surrounded by half a dozen first-years and two forth -years he barely knew—but today, he felt like they were his siblings.

Harry looked around one last time. Then he counted down.

“Three…”

The Portkeys began to glow brighter.

“Two…”

Students leaned forward, hands trembling with excitement.

“One!”

And in a flash of light and a whoosh of wind, all eighty-six Star Club members vanished—ripped from the quiet comfort of Highgarden, carried through spirals of light and magic.



There was a jolt, a sudden twist in the stomach, a lurching tug behind the navel—and then, with a collective crack of displaced air, the Stars Club arrived at Dartmoor.

The world spun. The sky flipped once, then twice, and—

Thump!

Thud!

Wumpf!

All around the Portkey landing zone, a spectacular pile of limbs and luggage scattered across the grass as first-years, second-years, and several fourth-years hit the ground like sacks of potatoes.

“Ow!” someone cried from beneath a tangle of robes.

“My glasses!”

“I think I’m upside down—”

“Did anyone bring a bucket?!”

Jason landed flat on his back, groaning, blinking at the clear blue sky. “Why does no one ever warn people about Portkeys?”

Nearby, Fred Weasley landed gracefully on both feet, spinning slightly for flair. “Style, ladies and gentlemen!”

George dropped beside him, brushing invisible dust off his cloak. “Form: flawless. Landing: ten out of ten.”

Harry Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Neville Longbottom, and the Star broomstick team all floated to the ground as though tugged gently by invisible strings, their feet kissing the grass with the practiced ease of seasoned travelers.

Harry grinned at the scene before him. “That went well.”

Sirius arched an eyebrow. “If by ‘well’ you mean they didn’t lose a limb, then yes.”

Remus chuckled. “Everyone upright! Brush yourselves off—we’re in Dartmoor now.”

The field they had landed in was vast—flattened and cordoned off by glowing blue ropes, just one of many designated Portkey arrival zones scattered around the sprawling Quidditch World Cup camping grounds. Flags flapped above each zone, marked with the names of schools, sponsors, and international organizations.

High above, the golden sun bathed the landscape in warm light, and already the buzz of thousands of witches and wizards could be heard across the gentle hills.

As the students groaned, laughed, and staggered upright, a group of Star broomstick staff began calling out names.

“Group A – come to the bronze flag!”

“Group B – to the yellow pole, over here!”

“Applebee, take Group C toward the inner road, Watson, you’ve got Group D!”

Students began to shuffle toward their assigned guides, clumping into small groups. Each was led by a Star broomstick team member wearing a silver cloak and a floating banner marked with the Star Club sigil overhead.

Jason finally got to his feet and helped a younger girl named Maggie up, brushing grass off her back.

“You alright?” he asked.

She nodded, a little green around the edges. “I think my soul is still spinning.”

“You’ll get used to it,” he said, trying to sound confident. He wasn’t sure he ever would.


As they were led from the Portkey zone, the full scale of the Quidditch World Cup campsite hit them.

It was massive.

Tents stretched as far as the eye could see, pitched in clusters or grand formations. Some were plain and canvas-colored, others towered three stories high with glittering crests and animated fireworks shooting from their chimneys. One tent was shaped like a dragon's mouth; another resembled a floating pyramid with singing palm trees circling its peak.

Everywhere they looked, witches and wizards from around the world filled the paths.

A group of Egyptian witches in golden headwraps passed by, chatting excitedly in Arabic. A tall wizard in purple silk and enchanted sandals danced past a group of Irish fans chanting and tossing shamrocks into the air. A trio of French teens wearing Beauxbatons sashes walked by with silver tea trays hovering behind them, offering biscuits to passersby.

“I don’t know where to look,” muttered a second-year Ravenclaw in awe.

“Everywhere,” Jason replied, spinning to take it all in.

They passed by a souvenir stall shouting, “Get your enchanted broomsticks for toddlers! Guaranteed to only float six feet!” and another where a hag with a smoky crystal ball chanted, “This year’s Seeker shall break his nose in glory!”

George whispered to Fred, “Should we get Mum a T-shirt that says ‘My son survived the Cup’?”

Fred whispered back, “Only if it’s going to prank mum.”

After a twenty-minute walk through the sea of culture, magic, and cheerful chaos, they reached their destination.

The Star Club campsite was a wide, open space nestled against a grove of trees. Floating silver lanterns bobbed overhead, each inscribed with the club's sigil—a starburst wrapped in quills and broomsticks. A shimmering magical boundary had been raised around the site, keyed only to Stars Club members and authorized staff.

The campsite itself was beautiful. There were nearly two dozen large magical tents, each shaped like elegant pavilions with stone pathways connecting them. Some were sleeping tents with bunk-style comfort charms; others were lounges with floating armchairs, self-refilling drink tables, and enchanted mist to keep the air cool.

At the center was a large communal tent with a floating stage, a long table stacked with snacks, and enchanted music gently playing a rotating mix of wizarding folk tunes and classic Quidditch chants.

Sirius turned and addressed the assembled crowd.

“Welcome to Camp Stars Club!”

Cheers erupted.

“This area is fully secured. You can explore the vendors, meet people, and enjoy yourselves, but always check in with your group lead before wandering off. You’ll be given enchanted tokens—don’t lose them. They’re your pass for food, access, and entry to the stadium.”

Remus stepped forward, holding up a silvery coin. “You’ll get one of these shortly. Don’t trade it for gobstones, even if the twins dare you.”

Fred and George raised their hands innocently. “We would never.”

Jason stood in the middle of it all, his chest full of wonder. He looked at the bustling camp—the tents, the floating banners, the friends laughing around him—and for a moment, he couldn’t believe he had once lived in a cold Muggle dormitory where no one remembered his name.

Now he was surrounded by eighty-five other students, all buzzing with excitement, and he was going to witness history.

“Tomorrow,” Harry said, appearing beside him, “we watch the world fly.”

Jason nodded, eyes wide. “And we’ll be right there to see it.”