December brought snow to Hogwarts, transforming the castle grounds into a winter wonderland. But for Eliot, the real magic was happening in his workshop.
The Room of Requirement had evolved with his needs, now featuring multiple workbenches, a small library of magical theory books, and even a testing chamber with protective wards. His partnership with Susan had grown beyond simple device manufacturing into something approaching genuine magical research.
"Look at this," Susan said, holding up their latest prototype. It looked like a simple bronze badge, but the runic inscriptions around its edge glowed faintly with stored magical energy.
"The shield badge?" Eliot asked, looking up from his calculations.
"Version three. I've managed to stabilize the protection matrix, but there's still the power consumption issue."
Eliot examined the badge carefully. They'd been working on this design for weeks—a personal protection device that could deflect minor hexes and cushion physical impacts. The theory was sound, but the practical implementation kept running into problems.
"What's the duration on a full charge?" he asked.
"About six hours of passive protection, or three direct spell deflections."
"Not bad, but not practical for daily use." Eliot made notes in his project journal. "What if we added a passive recharge system? Something that draws ambient magical energy from the environment?"
Susan's eyes lit up. "Like the castle's own magical field? That's brilliant, but incredibly complex."
"Complex, yes. Impossible, no."
---
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the workshop door. Professor Flitwick entered, carrying what looked like an official Ministry document.
"Mr. Clarke, Miss Bones," he said, his usual cheerful demeanor replaced by something more serious. "We need to talk."
Eliot and Susan exchanged glances. This couldn't be good news.
"Is this about our devices?" Susan asked.
"In a manner of speaking." Flitwick set the document on their workbench. "The Department of Magical Inventions has formally requested to evaluate your work. They're particularly interested in your torchlight design."
Eliot scanned the document. Official Ministry letterhead, formal language, and a request for "comprehensive technical documentation and demonstration of all magical devices created by the aforementioned students."
"This is... significant," Eliot said carefully.
"Indeed. The Ministry doesn't typically take notice of student projects unless they show exceptional promise or potential danger." Flitwick's eyes twinkled slightly. "I suspect it's the former in your case."
"What does this mean for us?" Susan asked.
"It means you have a choice. You can comply with the evaluation, which could lead to official recognition and potentially lucrative licensing agreements. Or you can decline, which would likely end your commercial activities but allow you to continue your research privately."
Eliot felt the weight of the decision. In his previous life, he'd dreamed of having his work recognized by important institutions. Now that it was happening, he wasn't sure he was ready for the attention.
"How long do we have to decide?" he asked.
"Two weeks. The evaluation is scheduled for the first week of January, after the holidays."
---
That evening, Eliot sat in the common room with Terry, Anthony, and Michael, ostensibly working on Transfiguration homework but actually wrestling with the Ministry decision.
"You're overthinking it," Terry said, not looking up from his essay on Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration. "It's the Ministry of Magic. They want to look at your inventions. That's a good thing."
"Is it?" Eliot asked. "What if they decide our devices are too dangerous? What if they want to regulate everything we do?"
"What if they offer you a job?" Michael countered. "You're eleven years old and the Ministry is already interested in your work. That's incredible."
Anthony looked up from his Charms notes. "My father works for the Ministry. He says they're always looking for innovative solutions to magical problems. Your torchlights could genuinely help people."
Eliot knew they were right, but something nagged at him. In his previous life, he'd seen how bureaucracy could stifle innovation. Large organizations had a tendency to take promising ideas and bury them in red tape.
"I think," he said slowly, "I need to talk to Susan about this. It's her decision too."
---
The next morning, Eliot found Susan in the library, surrounded by books on magical law and Ministry regulations.
"Researching our options?" he asked, sitting down beside her.
"Trying to understand what we're getting into." She showed him a passage in *Magical Patents and Protections*. "Did you know that if the Ministry classifies our devices as 'essential magical infrastructure,' they can compel us to license the designs at government-set rates?"
"That doesn't sound good."
"It gets worse. They can also classify inventions as 'potentially dangerous' and restrict their manufacture entirely."
Eliot leaned back in his chair. "So we could end up with no control over our own work."
"Exactly. But..." Susan turned to another book. "There are also protections for student inventors. And if we can establish prior art and demonstrate safety, we maintain more control."
"What do you think we should do?"
Susan was quiet for a long moment. "I think we should do the evaluation, but on our terms. We document everything, we bring our own magical law expert—maybe Professor Flitwick—and we make sure we understand every agreement before we sign anything."
"You want to go through with it?"
"I want to change the world, Eliot. And sometimes that means taking risks."
---
Over the following days, they threw themselves into preparation. Every device was thoroughly documented, every runic sequence explained, every safety feature tested and retested.
Eliot found himself working longer hours than ever, often staying in the workshop until well past midnight. His roommates had stopped asking where he went after dinner.
"You know," Terry said one evening as Eliot packed up his books, "you're starting to look like a ghost. When's the last time you did something just for fun?"
Eliot paused. When was the last time? Between classes, Quidditch practice, device development, and now Ministry preparation, he couldn't remember the last time he'd simply relaxed.
"I'm having fun," he said, but even to his own ears it sounded unconvincing.
"Building magical gadgets is fun," Terry agreed. "But so is Wizard's Chess, and Exploding Snap, and just talking about things that aren't work."
"Maybe after the Ministry evaluation," Eliot said.
Terry shook his head. "There's always going to be another project, another deadline, another goal. Trust me, I know. My whole family is like that."
---
The conversation stuck with Eliot as he made his way to the workshop. Terry was right—he had been pushing himself relentlessly. But he also felt like he was on the verge of something important, something that could genuinely make a difference.
In the workshop, Susan was testing their latest torchlight design. This version was sleeker, more efficient, and included several new features they'd developed over the past month.
"How's the battery life?" Eliot asked.
"Forty-eight hours of continuous use, or two weeks of normal operation." Susan smiled. "We've definitely improved since our first prototype."
"And the shield badge?"
"Still working on the power consumption issue, but I think I have an idea." She showed him a new runic pattern. "What if we used a layered approach? Multiple small shields instead of one large one?"
Eliot studied the design. "That could work. Distribute the energy load, reduce the strain on any single runic matrix..."
"Exactly. And if one layer fails, the others remain active."
They worked in comfortable silence for a while, each focused on their respective projects. This was what Eliot loved most—the pure problem-solving, the satisfaction of making something work better than it had before.
"Susan," he said eventually.
"Mm?"
"Thank you. For being my partner in this. I couldn't have done any of it alone."
She looked up from her work and smiled. "Thank you for having crazy ideas that actually work. This has been the best term of my life."
Outside the workshop windows, snow continued to fall on the castle grounds. But inside, surrounded by the tools of their trade and the fruits of their labor, the future felt bright and full of possibilities.
The Ministry evaluation was still two weeks away. Whatever happened, they would face it together.
And maybe, just maybe, they really could change the world.