Harry Potter and the Triwizard Gambit - Chapter - 5

The roar of the crowd rolled like thunder across the emerald field, flags of every color whipping in the wind, banners enchanted to ripple midair showing faces of star players mid-flight—hair trailing behind them, eyes focused, brooms blazing. The International Quidditch Championship was in full swing, and for the first time in his life, Jason Miller was there to see it all.

He sat in the front row of the VIP box, mouth slightly open, his eyes wide behind a pair of enchanted binoculars Sirius had lent him. In the sky above, two teams darted across the pitch like comets, their broomsticks slicing the wind in high arcs and sharp dives. The golden snitch was just a glint on the horizon, but Jason never stopped looking for it.

This was nothing like Hogwarts Quidditch League—not even close.

The plays were faster, the tactics more brutal and precise, and the flying… the flying was like watching storm gods dancing between clouds.

“Did you see that Wronski Feint?” Jason gasped, turning to Sirius, who lounged beside him in a silk-lined black cloak and mirrored glasses. “He faked the seeker into the boards!”

“I taught him that,” Sirius said with a smirk, sipping from a crystal goblet filled with bubbling pumpkin fizz. “Or at least, I told someone who told his coach.”

Jason snorted. “Liar.”

Sirius leaned in. “Never let the truth ruin a good legend.”


Across the field, towering above the sea of tents and stands, floated the official banner of the Starbroomstick Company—a giant stylized "S" streaking behind a harpy-eagle silhouette, gleaming silver and blue. Beneath it, lines of smaller banners rippled across the sky, bearing the words:

“FLY WITH THE STARLORD.”
“THE CHOICE OF CHAMPIONS.”
“HARRY POTTER APPROVED.”

Dozens of the teams competing in the championship were riding the Starlord broomstick, and their performance only reinforced the broom’s reputation. Swift acceleration, precise handling, elegant design—the Starlord was more than a product. It was a statement.

And because Harry Potter was a partner, he had been invited to nearly every major match.

Each week brought a new location. They traveled by Portkey, leaping from magical cities to mountain stadiums to floating arenas above lakes or canyons. Jason, Sirius, and sometimes Neville and the Weasley Twins came along for the spectacle. The twins usually brought sweets, pranks, and chaos; Neville brought reason. Jason brought wide-eyed wonder and a journal that he filled after every match with notes, scores, and autographs from players he shyly approached.

At the current match—Ireland vs. Brazil—Jason cheered so hard that his voice cracked.

“Easy there,” Sirius said with a laugh, tossing him a lozenge enchanted to chill his throat. “We’ve still got three more games to go this week.”

“I can’t help it,” Jason croaked. “They’re amazing!”

“You keep taking notes like that,” Sirius said, “and you’ll be on a team someday.”

Jason turned pink. “You think so?”

Sirius grinned. “With the right broom and training? Anything’s possible.”


Meanwhile, Harry and Remus Lupin were nowhere to be seen.

After the match, while the crowd filed out and magical fireworks lit the sky, Jason and Sirius returned to their large luxury tent, pitched among the sponsor pavilions—a tent so magically expanded it had a full lounge, two bedrooms, a study with a floating bookshelf, and a walk-in closet enchanted to organize itself.

Jason collapsed on the plush sofa in the lounge, limbs buzzing from excitement. Misty was perched on the curtain rod, feathers fluffed, eyes half-lidded.

“Where’s Harry?” Jason asked.

Sirius tossed his cloak on a nearby chair and poured himself a drink. “In meetings. He and Remus are talking with half the Quidditch world—team managers, broom technicians, marketing directors. That kind of thing.”

Jason sat up. “That’s not what I thought he’d be doing at his age.”

Sirius chuckled. “Trust me—Harry’s not like most people his age. When others were dodging Bludgers, he was dodging curses. Now that he’s got time and money, he’s building something.”

Jason nodded. “And it’s working, isn’t it?”

Sirius glanced out the tent flap toward the Starlord banner gleaming in the night sky. “Oh yes. It’s working.”


Later that evening, just before bed, Harry and Remus returned.

Harry looked tired but energized, the way only someone who had been in five back-to-back meetings could be.

Remus, in contrast, looked actually tired, rubbing his temples with two fingers.

“Tomorrow,” Remus muttered, collapsing into the armchair beside Jason. “We have Bulgaria vs. Japan. We’re expected at the aftermatch dinner. Someone is hosting it in a floating tavern. I’m already nauseous.”

Jason handed him a chocolate square. “You’ll be okay.”

Remus smiled wearily. “Bless you.”

Harry crouched beside Jason. “Did you enjoy the match?”

Jason nodded quickly. “It was incredible. I wrote everything down. And I got a signed Quidditch card from the Irish Keeper!”

Harry grinned. “Well done. Make sure you hold onto that one—he’s a rising star.”

Jason hesitated. “You… do this every summer?”

Harry leaned back on his heels. “Only recently. Last year I was building the factory. Year before that, dodging Aurors and reporters. This year, I’m finally out in the open. It’s a good time to grow the company. The World Cup is the perfect place to reach a global market.”

“You really love it, don’t you?” Jason asked.

Harry gave him a thoughtful look. “I love what it means. I love what it can do for people. You saw those players riding Starlords out there today?”

Jason nodded eagerly.

“Most of them aren’t rich. A lot of them are first-generation flyers. We gave them a broom they could afford—one that performs like something three times the price. That’s power.”

Jason grinned. “I want to help one day.”

Harry clapped him on the shoulder. “You already are.”


That night, Jason lay in bed staring up at the enchanted ceiling of the tent—showing stars that shimmered and blinked like a slow-moving sky.

Misty was curled on her perch nearby, and outside, he could still hear the faint rumble of distant fireworks.

It was hard to believe he’d ever lived in a place where owls weren’t welcome.

Now, he was flying across continents, watching legends on broomsticks, sleeping in magical tents, and dreaming of skies with no limits.

And he knew, somewhere deep inside—

This was just the beginning.



The night sky outside the enchanted tent shimmered with the fading trails of broomfire from the Ireland vs. Japan semi-final. The match had ended late, long after the sun had dipped beneath the horizon, and now the stadium was quiet except for the occasional sound of distant fireworks celebrating Ireland's win.

Inside the massive tent, laughter and clinking glasses echoed warmly. A long mahogany dining table had been conjured down the middle of the main lounge, and it groaned under the weight of roast chicken, garlic potatoes, vegetable tarts, and spiced pumpkin soup. At one end, Fred and George were tossing roasted nuts into each other’s mouths, keeping score as Sirius shouted out mock commentary.

Neville, seated between Remus and Jason, sipped his drink carefully while arguing about the Irish team’s Keeper technique. Remus was leaning back in his chair with a plate of treacle tart, listening fondly, while Sirius threw in a joke every few sentences just to keep the twins laughing.

Harry sat at the other end, next to Jason, who was unusually quiet. His food was mostly untouched—he was poking at a baked mushroom with his fork, his brows furrowed in deep thought.

Harry noticed. “You alright?” he asked softly, leaning closer so the others wouldn’t hear.

Jason looked up, startled. “Oh—yeah. I was just thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous,” Sirius called from across the table, grinning. “Especially after dessert.”

Jason grinned back sheepishly. “No, it’s just…” He glanced around at all of them—at the plates, the jokes, the fire crackling nearby, the long banner of the Star Club fluttering lazily above the dining tent. “This is amazing. Everything we’ve done this summer—watching the games, flying broomsticks, even meeting players.”

He paused, lowering his fork.

“I just… I wish the whole Star Club was here.”

Everyone went quiet for a moment.

It wasn’t an awkward silence. Just… thoughtful.

Harry blinked. “You mean… like all the members?”

Jason nodded. “Yeah. I mean… we’re a family, right? That’s what you always say. And we’ve got the final coming up in a few weeks. What if they were all here? To see the biggest Quidditch game in the world?”

Fred sat up. “You mean—watching the final?”

George nearly choked on his juice. “With us? That’d be chaos!”

“Incredible chaos,” Neville added with a grin.

Remus put down his spoon slowly. “You know, that’s actually… not a bad idea.”

Sirius looked at Harry. “You could make it happen.”

Harry didn’t answer at first. He was staring down at his empty plate, thoughts already racing.

“Dartmoor,” he murmured.

“What?” Jason asked.

Harry looked up. “The final. It’s set to take place in Dartmoor, right here in England. August twenty-second. The teams haven’t been finalized yet, but the venue is locked in. And I’ve got contacts with the sponsor committee—some of them ride Starlords.”

Remus gave a low whistle. “You’re actually going to do it.”

Harry nodded slowly, the idea solidifying in his mind like crystal. “Not just a few seats. I want a full section. One entire box. With the Stars Club banner overhead. Food, drinks, enchanted screens—everything.”

Fred whistled. “We’ll be legends.”

George added, “And possibly banned from future Cups.”

Sirius leaned back in his chair, hands folded behind his head. “Leave the Ministry side of things to me. They can’t say no if they’re dazzled by your charm and my bank account.”

Remus rolled his eyes. “Just don’t dazzle them with firewhisky again.”

Jason could barely sit still. “You mean it? Everyone gets to come?”

Harry looked at him and smiled. “You gave me the idea. You’ll sit front row.”


The very next morning, the plan was already in motion.

Harry sent word to the Dartmoor stadium managers, invoking both personal connections and Starbroomstick’s sponsorship contract. By lunchtime, they had permission to reserve a private section on the north wing, large enough to seat over a hundred.

Sirius arranged a team of professionals to decorate the section with floating banners, club emblems, star-stitched seat cushions, and even an enchanted ceiling to mirror the current sky overhead.

Meanwhile, Remus Lupin and Neville drew up a list of every current Star Club member—from the forth years to the shyest new first-years.


That evening, in the largest sitting room of Highgarden, Harry sat beside Jason, scribbling the final words of his letter. A golden quill danced between his fingers as parchment after parchment was sealed with the silver Star Club sigil.


To: Stars Club Member
From: Star Broomsticks International
Subject: Quidditch World Cup – Final Invitation

You are officially invited to attend the International Quidditch Championship Final on August 22nd at Dartmoor Stadium. You will be seated in the reserved Stars Club section with food, drinks, and magical comforts provided.

All travel arrangements will be made.
Portkeys and invitations will be sent soon.
All costs are covered by the Star Broomstick International.

We hope to see you there.

—Harry, Neville, Fred and George


The letters flew from Highgarden in waves.

Owls soared from the Owlery like a silver storm, darting off to homes across England and beyond. And within two days, responses began to trickle in—then pour like rain.

“YES, YES, YES! Count me in!”
—Sally Thomas, 3rd Year Hufflepuff

“Is this real? My mum cried. We’ve never seen a World Cup match!”
—Liam Brooks, 2nd Year Gryffindor

“I thought it was a prank until I saw the seal.”
—Rowan from Ravenclaw

“My whole summer just became legendary.”
—Amelia Kent, 1st Year Slytherin


In one of the greenhouses, Jason laughed aloud as he read the return letters, holding a stack in both arms.

“They’re all saying yes,” he said to Harry. “They’re all coming!”

Harry took one and grinned. “Of course they are. This isn’t just a Quidditch match.”

Jason tilted his head. “Then what is it?”

Harry looked out across the Highgarden grounds, where house-elves were already preparing luggage for incoming guests.

“It’s a reunion,” Harry said softly. “It’s our family.”