November brought the first real tests of Eliot's time management skills.
Between regular classes, Quidditch practice, his growing magical devices business, and his independent runic studies, every hour of the day was accounted for. His roommates had started calling him "the Schedule" because of his rigid adherence to his daily routine.
"You know," Terry Boot said one evening as Eliot packed up his books at exactly 10:00 PM, "normal people occasionally do things spontaneously."
"Spontaneity is inefficient," Eliot replied, though he was smiling. "Besides, I'm having fun."
"Fun," Anthony Goldstein repeated skeptically. "You consider creating magical light bulbs fun?"
"They're not light bulbs," Eliot corrected. "They're portable illumination devices with adjustable spectrum control and—"
"Light bulbs," Michael Corner interrupted with a grin.
---
The truth was, Eliot was having more fun than he'd ever had in either of his lives. Every day brought new challenges, new problems to solve, new applications for the magical principles he was learning.
His torchlight business with Susan was thriving. They'd sold over sixty units and had a waiting list that stretched into December. More importantly, word was spreading beyond Hogwarts.
"My older brother heard about your torchlights," a second-year Hufflepuff told him during lunch. "He's at the Ministry now, in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes. Says they could really use reliable lighting equipment for emergency situations."
Eliot nearly choked on his pumpkin juice. "The Ministry knows about our devices?"
"Just rumors so far. But good rumors."
That afternoon, Eliot found Susan in their workshop, looking thoughtful.
"We need to talk about scaling up," she said without preamble. "If the Ministry is interested, we're talking about orders in the hundreds, maybe thousands."
"That's... a lot," Eliot said, sitting down heavily. "We can barely keep up with student orders."
"Exactly. We need to think bigger. More production capacity, quality control systems, maybe even some kind of magical manufacturing process."
Eliot pulled out his notebook and began sketching. "What if we created a runic assembly line? A series of workstations, each handling one part of the construction process..."
"Like a magical factory?"
"Exactly. We could train other students to handle the simpler tasks while we focus on design and quality control."
---
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock on the workshop door. The Room of Requirement had never admitted anyone they hadn't specifically invited before.
"Come in?" Susan called uncertainly.
Professor Flitwick entered, looking around the workshop with undisguised amazement.
"My word," he squeaked. "This is quite the operation you've built here. How did you find this room?"
"We... needed a workspace," Eliot said carefully. "The room appeared when we really needed it."
"Ah, the Room of Requirement. I wondered if students still knew about it." Flitwick examined their workbenches and equipment. "Impressive setup. Very professional."
"Thank you, Professor. Is there something we can help you with?"
Flitwick's expression grew serious. "Actually, yes. I've been hearing interesting reports about your magical devices. Apparently, word has reached some rather important people."
Eliot and Susan exchanged glances.
"The Ministry?" Susan asked.
"Among others. The Department of Magical Inventions has expressed interest in evaluating your work. Nothing official yet, but..." Flitwick paused. "I wanted to give you a heads up. Success sometimes brings unwanted attention."
"What kind of unwanted attention?" Eliot asked.
"Competitors. Investors who might not have your best interests at heart. Government bureaucrats who like to regulate things." Flitwick's eyes twinkled. "The usual suspects."
---
That evening, Eliot lay in bed staring at the ceiling of his dormitory. In his previous life, he'd dreamed of creating something that would make a real difference. Now he was actually doing it, but the prospect of outside attention was both exciting and terrifying.
"Can't sleep?" Terry asked from the next bed.
"Just thinking."
"About your inventions?"
"About what happens when they stop being just inventions and become... business."
Terry was quiet for a moment. "You know, my dad works for Gringotts. He says the key to any successful venture is knowing when to grow and when to stay small."
"What do you think we should do?"
"I think," Terry said thoughtfully, "you should keep being brilliant and let the adults worry about the business stuff. You're eleven, Eliot. You've got time."
But Eliot wasn't sure he did have time. In his previous life, he'd learned that opportunities had a way of disappearing if you didn't grab them when they appeared.
---
The next morning brought a new challenge. Professor McGonagall appeared at the Ravenclaw table during breakfast, looking stern.
"Mr. Clarke," she said crisply. "A word, if you please."
Eliot followed her out of the Great Hall, his mind racing through possible infractions. Had someone complained about his business activities? Was he in trouble for using the Room of Requirement?
"Mr. Clarke," McGonagall began once they were alone, "I understand you've been conducting some sort of commercial enterprise within the castle."
"Yes, Professor. Susan and I have been making magical devices for other students. Nothing dangerous," he added quickly.
"I'm not concerned about danger, Mr. Clarke. I'm concerned about precedent." McGonagall's expression softened slightly. "Hogwarts has rules about commercial activities for good reasons. We can't have students turning the castle into a marketplace."
Eliot's heart sank. "Are you shutting us down?"
"Not exactly. But we need to establish some guidelines. First, all devices must be approved by a faculty member before sale. Second, no more than ten units per week—we don't want this interfering with your studies. Third, any profits above your material costs must be donated to the school."
"Donated?" Eliot couldn't hide his disappointment.
"Mr. Clarke, you're receiving a Hogwarts education. Consider this your way of giving back." McGonagall's eyes showed a hint of amusement. "Besides, the experience you're gaining is worth far more than a few Galleons."
---
That afternoon, Eliot and Susan sat in their workshop, recalculating their business model.
"Ten units per week," Susan said, making notes. "That's about half our current production."
"And no profit," Eliot added glumly.
"Well, no monetary profit. But McGonagall has a point—the experience is valuable."
Eliot sighed. "I suppose. It's just... in my previous life, I never got to see my ideas become real products. This was my chance."
"Your previous life?" Susan looked confused.
Eliot realized his slip. "I mean, before Hogwarts. I always dreamed of being an inventor."
"Well, you still are an inventor. Just one with some restrictions." Susan smiled. "Besides, think of it as a proof of concept. We're learning how to design, manufacture, and distribute magical devices. When we graduate, we'll have the skills to start a real company."
"You're right," Eliot said, feeling his enthusiasm return. "This is just the beginning."
---
Over the following weeks, they adapted to the new restrictions. Ten units per week meant they had to be more selective about orders, which actually improved their quality control. The faculty approval process, while annoying, forced them to document their designs more thoroughly.
Professor Flitwick became their primary reviewer, and his feedback was invaluable.
"This heat controller design is excellent," he said, examining their latest prototype. "But have you considered what happens if the thermal regulation matrix fails?"
"Fails how?" Eliot asked.
"Magical devices can be disrupted by strong emotional magic, electromagnetic fields, even certain potions. You need fail-safes."
They spent the next week adding safety features—automatic shutoffs, thermal limiters, and emergency discharge runes. The devices became more complex, but also more reliable.
"You know," Susan said as they worked late one evening, "I think McGonagall did us a favor. These restrictions are making us better inventors."
Eliot had to agree. The limitations were forcing them to think more carefully about every aspect of their designs.
And despite the reduced profits, word of their devices continued to spread. Students from other schools were starting to inquire about purchasing torchlights and heat controllers.
"Maybe," Eliot said, "we should start thinking about what comes after Hogwarts."
"Like what?"
"Like changing the world. One invention at a time."
Outside the workshop windows, the first snow of winter was beginning to fall. But inside, the future felt bright and full of possibilities.