The wand of ash and phoenix still hummed against Eliot's skin as he sat by the window, watching the Scottish hills blur into mist. His fingers rolled the polished shaft slowly, feeling every ridge, every carved swirl.
This wand was more than a tool. It was a mirror of his truth.
He wasn't just a magical child. He was a reincarnated technologist with a system architect's brain and a fire in his blood that pulsed like arcane code.
And now, he was just days away from Hogwarts.
---
In the calm between the chaos, Eliot kept working.
The magic battery had been only the beginning. Now that he understood Runes, and had a wand to conduct focused channeling, he'd started experimenting with **embedded enchantments**—essentially fusing magical circuits into physical objects.
One of his prototype projects was a **self-writing quill** powered by a tiny, rune-etched core. The design was clunky and the output messy, but it worked. On a scroll beside it was scribbled:
> `Objective: Spell-compatible magical circuits with alchemical routing.`> `Sub-objective: Integrate Rune classes with logical constructs.`> `Status: Prototype functional.`
He wasn't building just to impress.
He was trying to understand.
Magic was no longer an enigma—it was a language. And Eliot was fluent in many.
---
A letter had arrived that morning.
Not from Hogwarts. From a wizarding entrepreneur who had read *Iron Man* and purchased the **Air Controller v2.0**. It was a short message.
> *To DHD,*> *Your blend of function and imagination is inspiring. If you're ever looking for a place in the Department of Magical Inventions, we'd be honored to have you at Gringotts Innovation House.*> *—M.S., Director*
Eliot blinked at it for a long time.
He was eleven. And already fielding offers from inventors.
> "Not bad for a kid who was debugging Excel reports three years ago," he muttered.
---
That night, as he sat across the dinner table, he casually asked:
> "Grandpa… is it possible to build a mobile spellcasting unit? Like… a wand, but with programmatic logic? Something that activates stored spells in patterns?"
His grandfather choked on his roast.
> "You want to build... a programmable wand?"
> "No, not a wand. More like… a magical Raspberry Pi. Enchantable. Flexible. Low energy draw."
Grandpa narrowed his eyes, half-annoyed, half-in awe. "That's not first-year work, Eliot. That's graduate-level, borderline illegal work if you don't declare it to the Ministry."
Eliot just grinned. "Noted."
---
Later, as he passed through the hallway, he heard the whisper-soft *pop* of elf magic. One of the Clarke family's house-elves—now dressed in formal grey waistcoats and tiny leather shoes—nodded respectfully as he passed.
Eliot paused.
> "Excuse me," he said. "What's your name?"
> "Tikki, Master Clarke," the elf said, slightly bowing.
> "Tikki, how do you feel about Runes?"
The elf looked startled, then thoughtful. "We… use them, sir. To stabilize charms. But few wizards ever ask."
Eliot smiled.
> "Want to help me build something?"
The elf's ears perked up. "Yes, sir."
And just like that, his workshop doubled in staff.
---
In his room, Eliot kept a list tacked to the wall—handwritten in a hybrid of Telugu, English, and Runic script.
At the top was a quote:
> *"Magic is a source code. The world is the compiler."*
Beneath it were three project titles:
* **AC/H Controller (Prototype Complete)*** **Quill AI (70% Reliable)*** **Project ArcSpell (Pending Hogwarts Approval)**
His father stepped in briefly, arms crossed, smiling tiredly.
> "You're pushing yourself too hard again."
> "You said you were Iron Man," Eliot replied without looking up. "This is just the montage phase."
His dad chuckled and left without argument.
---
The next morning, as he packed his trunk for Hogwarts, Eliot paused to slip a folded schematic into the corner of his bag. His wand rested beside it.
And in his pocket? A custom-etched coin he'd made himself. One side bore the Clarke family crest. The other bore a single engraved letter:
> D
Eliot wasn't going to Hogwarts as a nobody.
He was going as **DSK**, as **DHD**, as a Clarke…And as someone who refused to be just another boy in robes.
> "Let's see what kind of magic this place really runs on."