Harry Potter and the Triwizard Gambit - Chapter - 4

The black Mercedes-Benz SUV pulled up to the curb with a quiet growl, the tinted windows reflecting the dull brick façade of the Muggle orphanage in Manchester. The sun was just beginning to pierce through the grey cloud cover, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement and the rusted gate out front.

The car rolled to a smooth stop in front of the building, its polished black finish standing out like a dragon among rats. The orphanage, a squat three-story structure with faded lettering on the side reading St. Bartholomew’s Home for Boys, looked tired. Paint flaked from the windowsills. A swing hung limp in the backyard, its chains rusted, unmoving.

From inside, children pressed their faces to the narrow glass panes, their expressions curious, wary, a few even amused.

The passenger’s side door opened, and Harry Potter stepped out.

He wore plain but well-made clothes: dark jeans, a grey collared shirt, boots that carried the scuffs of use. No wizard’s robe today—this was a Muggle space, and he respected the boundary. But even without robes or fanfare, there was something undeniable about him. He carried himself with the quiet certainty of someone who belonged anywhere.

As Harry glanced up at the building, the SUV’s engine went silent. Sirius Black pulled the sleek vehicle around toward the side parking area. He would handle the car.

Harry barely had time to scan the windows when a voice broke through the morning air.

“Harry!”

Harry turned just in time to see a figure burst out of the orphanage’s front door and sprint across the lawn with surprising speed for someone carrying a trunk nearly half his size.

The boy had a mop of messy dark-blond hair and wore a worn but freshly washed jumper. His face was flushed with excitement, and in one hand, he carried an empty cage.

“Jason?” Harry asked, eyebrows raised as the boy skidded to a stop in front of him.

Jason’s breath came fast, but his eyes sparkled. “I—I’ve been watching from the window ever since I got your letter.”

Harry blinked, then laughed. “Then that means…” He grinned. “You’ve already packed, haven’t you?”

Jason nodded quickly. “Everything. I didn’t sleep much last night. I was worried that I would miss you or something bad would happen and you wouldn’t come—”

Harry placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “You don’t ever have to worry about that again. I gave my word.”

Just then, the sound of polished leather shoes echoed down the walkway as Sirius Black approached.

He looked completely out of place in the best way—his tailored black designer suit, pressed crisp shirt, and expensive watch gleamed in the sunlight. A silver ring sat on one hand, and a thin wand was tucked expertly into a hidden sleeve holster. With his long black coat fluttering behind him, he looked less like a guardian and more like a CEO about to close a billion-Galleon deal.

The orphans who had gathered by the window now pressed harder against the glass, watching Sirius approach with wide, astonished eyes. A few looked like they were trying to work out whether he was royalty or a movie star.

Jason leaned in toward Harry and whispered, “That’s your uncle?”

“Something like that,” Harry replied with a half-smile. “That’s Sirius Black.”

Jason blinked. “He doesn’t look like someone who’d run a broomstick company.”

“He doesn’t look like someone who’d run from a duel either,” Harry muttered under his breath.

Sirius reached them and flashed Jason a smile. “You must be the lad. You have a very beautiful owl, by the way. She looks more dignified than half the Wizangamot.”

Jason flushed red, unsure whether it was a compliment or sarcasm. Sirius winked.

“Come on, let’s have a word with your warden.”


Inside, the front lobby of the orphanage was as sad as the outside: flickering overhead lights, peeling linoleum, and the faint smell of cheap cleaning products and old coats. A bored-looking woman in her fifties sat behind the reception desk, flipping through a dog-eared magazine.

Behind her office window stood the warden, a balding man in a loose tie who clearly hadn’t expected visitors of any standing today. He looked up in alarm as Harry and Sirius entered, trailed by Jason, who was still gripping Misty’s cage protectively.

“Can I help you?” the warden asked, his eyes flicking nervously toward Sirius’s coat and polished shoes.

“Yes,” Sirius said coolly, striding forward. “We’ve come to collect Jason Miller. He’ll be spending the rest of the summer holidays with us.”

The warden blinked. “You… you what?”

“With us,” Harry repeated. “At a private estate. He’ll be safe, well cared for, and properly looked after.”

“Well, that’s all well and good,” the warden stammered, “but this sort of thing needs clearance—I’ll have to make some calls, maybe send a—”

But Sirius had already slipped a wand from beneath his sleeve. He gave it a lazy flick, and a thin thread of shimmering magic snaked through the air toward the warden’s desk.

The man blinked. Then blinked again. His face smoothed over, and he leaned back in his chair.

“Well,” he said slowly, “I suppose everything’s already been arranged. I’ll just mark Jason as temporarily rehomed. Yes, yes… Good to see a boy getting such opportunities.”

Harry gave Sirius a glance. “What did you cast?”

“Nothing too aggressive,” Sirius said lightly. “Just a little ‘Be Reasonable’ Charm. Works wonders on bureaucrats.”

Jason looked between them. “I’m not going back, am I?”

Harry crouched beside him. “Only when you want to. And never alone.”

Jason looked down, then smiled faintly.


By the time they reached the car again, Jason’s modest trunk was loaded into the back, and the owl cage nestled beside it. Jason sat in the back seat, silent at first, eyes wide as he looked out the window.

The Mercedes hummed to life, and Sirius pulled onto the main road with practiced ease.

As the car glided through the streets of Manchester, buildings slipping past like ghosts, Jason looked toward Harry.

“Is Highgarden really… magical?”

Harry smiled. “You’ll see soon enough.”

They reached the edge of town, heading for the safe apparition point just beyond the Muggle zone, where Floo powder and side-along travel were secure.

And in the back seat, for the first time in years, Jason Miller let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—he belonged somewhere.


Jason Miller had expected something big.

After all, Harry Potter lived here. Sirius Black too. Wizards who rode broomsticks like dragons, who ran magazines and factories, who owned their own castles. But nothing—absolutely nothing—could have prepared him for Highgarden.

As they stepped through the Floo, Jason stumbled slightly, blinking against the sudden golden light that flooded the hall around him.

He had arrived into what could only be described as the entrance hall of a palace. Tall archways stretched overhead, etched with golden filigree and lined with climbing green vines that shimmered faintly with enchantments. Chandeliers made of floating orbs bobbed lazily in the air, casting soft light across polished stone floors. A grand staircase wound up and around like something out of a fairy tale, and beyond it, hallways branched into countless wings and corridors.

Jason stood frozen, his owl cage clutched tightly in one hand, trunk in the other.

“This is…” he whispered.

Harry chuckled beside him. “Yeah. It’s a bit much at first.”

Jason looked up at him, wide-eyed. “It has three floors?”

“Four, actually,” Sirius said behind them, casually brushing soot from his coat. “If you count the observatory. And the basement. And the dungeon—but you probably won’t need the dungeon.”

Jason gave him a wary glance, unsure if he was joking.

Sirius grinned.

Harry stepped forward and gently took Misty’s cage from Jason’s hand. “Come on. Let me show you your room.”


They passed through long, warm hallways filled with portraits—some enchanted and cheerful, others regal and silent. A few waved at Jason as he walked by.

The corridor finally ended at a set of double doors carved with dancing stags and owls in flight. Harry pushed them open.

The room inside was bright and beautiful. The ceiling was charmed to show a sky of drifting clouds. A massive window overlooked the green hills beyond the estate. There was a bed large enough for three, a wooden desk with carved inkwells, a wardrobe already filled with fresh clothes, and—what nearly broke Jason—on the far side of the room, a tiny perch and sleeping platform built just for Misty, beside an open owl hatch.

Jason stared in silence.

“You made this for me?” he asked softly.

Harry nodded. “Told you—you have a place here.”

Jason walked to the window slowly, letting his trunk drop near the bed. For the first time in his life, he could see far beyond stone walls and iron fences. He saw trees, sky, and space that stretched on forever.

A pop! broke his trance.

Standing near the door were two house-elves—one older, wearing a neat tea towel like a proper uniform, and the other younger, with sparkling brown eyes and a shy smile.

“This is Norky,” Harry said, gesturing to the elder elf. “And this is Rosly. They’ll help take care of things while you’re here.”

Jason opened his mouth, unsure how to react.

Norky gave a formal bow. “Master Jason, welcome to Highgarden. We is honored to serve you.”

Rosly smiled brightly. “We made the bed ourselves and placed your favorite biscuits in the jar!”

Jason blinked. “How did you know what kind of biscuits I like?”

“We asked your owl,” Rosly said proudly. “Owls is very clever.”

Harry leaned in. “Don’t argue with her. She wins every time.”

Jason laughed for the first time in days.


Later that evening, Jason sat at a long oak dining table that gleamed with polish. A crackling fire warmed the room, and golden candlelight flickered in the chandeliers overhead.

In front of him was a plate full of roasted chicken, buttery vegetables, a steaming bowl of garlic potatoes, and a slice of lemon pie that looked too perfect to eat.

He took a bite.

It was better than Hogwarts.

He didn’t know that was possible.

Sirius and Harry chatted across the table about broomstick testing runs for next week, while Rosly brought out second helpings. Norky refilled the pitcher with iced pumpkin juice.

Jason didn’t speak for a while. He just ate. For once, he wasn’t wolfing it down, afraid someone would take it from him. For once, the food was warm, and the chair was soft, and no one was yelling in the next room.

When he finally put down his fork, he looked at Harry.

“Can I ask something?”

Harry nodded. “Of course.”

Jason hesitated. “There are others, you know. In the Stars Club. Like me.”

Harry’s expression became serious. “I didn't know.”

“Some of them go back to homes that aren’t good. I’ve heard them talk. Some don’t say anything, but you can tell. And I was thinking… I was lucky this time. But what about the others?”

Harry sat back in his chair.

“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” he admitted. “I have other properties. Manors, Cottages. Places just like this—but smaller. I inherited them and most of them are gathering dust.”

Jason’s eyes widened. “So… they’ll all come live here?”

Harry smiled. “Not all here. Highgarden’s special. But if enough of them need help, I’ll open another manor. Maybe even two. Everyone who needs a place will have one. They won’t ever go back to somewhere they’re not welcome.”

Jason nodded slowly, deeply. “I hope they say yes.”

Harry looked over at him. “You were the first to ask for help. That means more than you know.”


The days that followed were the happiest Jason could remember.

He woke each morning to sunlight pouring through enchanted windows and the soft sound of Misty hooting beside his bed.

He spent afternoons exploring the greenhouses, watering magical plants under Rosly’s guidance—plants that glowed, danced, or hissed if overwatered.

He helped Norky carry fresh fruit to the enchanted stables, where strange creatures peeked out from their burrows—some winged, others scaly, one that looked like a long-legged deer made of dandelions.

And when the sky was clear, he raced broomsticks across Highgarden’s massive flying grounds, swooping between spires and diving through hoops conjured for broomstick testing. Harry let him test a new prototype broom one afternoon—sleek, fast, silent.

Jason grinned until his cheeks hurt.

He was living a life he never dreamed of.

And somewhere deep down, he knew—this summer wasn’t just a break from the orphanage.

It was the start of a new story.