News of the Ministry evaluation spread through Hogwarts faster than a Howler at breakfast. By evening, Eliot and Susan found themselves the center of attention in ways they'd never experienced before.
"Is it true the Ministry wants to hire you?" asked a second-year Hufflepuff during dinner.
"Are you going to leave Hogwarts?" worried a first-year Ravenclaw.
"Can you make me a torchlight that changes colors?" requested a third-year Gryffindor.
The attention was overwhelming. Eliot, who had always preferred working quietly in the background, found the constant questions and stares exhausting.
"This is what fame feels like," Susan observed as they finally escaped to their workshop that evening. "I'm not sure I like it."
"It's temporary," Eliot said, though he wasn't entirely convinced. "Once the novelty wears off, people will lose interest."
"Will they? We're first-year students who caught the Ministry's attention. That's not exactly common."
The Room of Requirement had configured itself as a comfortable study space, complete with soft chairs and a calming fireplace. It seemed to sense their need for peace and quiet.
"We need to think about this partnership offer carefully," Susan continued. "It's an incredible opportunity, but..."
"But it changes everything," Eliot finished. "We'd be working with Ministry officials, following their protocols, operating under their oversight."
"And we'd have access to resources we could never get on our own. Advanced laboratories, expert mentors, funding for materials."
"True. But we'd also lose some of our independence. Our research would be guided by Ministry priorities, not our own interests."
---
The next few days brought a steady stream of visitors to their workshop. Professor McGonagall stopped by to congratulate them and offer advice about dealing with Ministry bureaucracy. Professor Snape made a rare appearance to examine their heat controller, grudgingly admitting that their temperature regulation could be useful for advanced potion brewing.
Most surprisingly, Professor Dumbledore himself visited on January 7th.
"Remarkable work," he said, examining their devices with the careful attention of someone who truly understood magical theory. "You've achieved something quite extraordinary."
"Thank you, sir," Susan said. "We're still trying to process everything that's happened."
"Change often comes faster than we expect," Dumbledore said kindly. "The question is not whether to embrace it, but how to do so wisely."
"What would you advise, sir?" Eliot asked.
"I would advise you to remember why you began this work. Was it for recognition? For profit? Or was it to solve problems and help people?"
"To help people," Susan said immediately.
"To prove that magic could be better understood and more efficiently used," Eliot added.
"Then let those motivations guide your decision. Any partnership that supports those goals is worth considering. Any that compromises them is not."
---
That evening, they received letters from their parents. Eliot's parents were thrilled but cautious, encouraging him to carefully review any agreements before signing. Susan's aunt was more direct: *"Don't let them take advantage of your youth. Get everything in writing and have it reviewed by someone you trust."*
"Smart advice," Susan said, reading her aunt's letter. "We should probably have a magical law expert review any partnership agreement."
"Professor Flitwick mentioned that the school has connections with several magical law firms," Eliot said. "We could ask for a recommendation."
They spent the evening researching Ministry partnerships with young inventors. The results were mixed—some had led to successful careers and beneficial innovations, while others had resulted in promising young wizards being buried in bureaucracy or having their ideas appropriated.
"The key seems to be maintaining some independence," Susan observed. "The successful partnerships were ones where the inventors kept control of their core research."
"And the unsuccessful ones were where the Ministry took over completely."
"So we need to be very careful about the terms of any agreement."
---
January 10th brought the formal partnership proposal from the Ministry. The document was thirty pages of dense legal language that made Eliot's head spin.
"We definitely need a lawyer," Susan said, struggling through the terminology. "I can barely understand half of this."
Professor Flitwick arranged for them to meet with Madam Marchbanks, a retired Ministry official who now worked as a consultant for young inventors. She reviewed the proposal with them over the weekend.
"It's a generous offer in many ways," she explained. "Access to Ministry resources, mentorship from senior engineers, and a clear path to commercial development. But there are some concerning clauses."
"Such as?" Eliot asked.
"The Ministry would have exclusive rights to any innovations developed during the partnership. You'd receive credit and compensation, but you wouldn't own your own work."
"That's... problematic," Susan said.
"Indeed. There's also a clause that would require Ministry approval for any independent research you might want to pursue."
"So we'd essentially be Ministry employees," Eliot said.
"Junior partners, but yes. Your research agenda would be determined by Ministry priorities."
---
They spent the next few days discussing their options. The Ministry partnership offered incredible opportunities, but at the cost of their independence. They could continue their work at Hogwarts, but without the resources and support the Ministry could provide.
"What if we proposed a modified partnership?" Susan suggested during one of their evening discussions. "Something that gives us more control over our work?"
"You think they'd be open to negotiation?"
"They want our innovations. That gives us some leverage."
"It's worth trying. The worst they can do is say no."
They spent the weekend drafting a counter-proposal with Madam Marchbanks' help. Their version included provisions for maintaining ownership of their core innovations, the right to pursue independent research, and a more limited scope of Ministry oversight.
"This is much more favorable to you," Madam Marchbanks said, reviewing their draft. "But it's also much less favorable to the Ministry. They may not accept these terms."
"Then we'll know where we stand," Eliot said.
---
On January 15th, they sent their counter-proposal to the Ministry. The response came faster than expected—Madam Bones herself arrived at Hogwarts the next day for a face-to-face meeting.
"Your counter-proposal is... interesting," she said, settling into the conference room chair. "You're asking for significantly more independence than we typically grant to junior partners."
"We believe our work speaks for itself," Susan said diplomatically. "We've demonstrated that we can innovate effectively with minimal oversight."
"You've also demonstrated that you're eleven years old with limited understanding of the broader implications of your work."
"Which is why we're not asking for complete independence," Eliot said. "We want guidance and support, but we also want to maintain control over our research direction."
Madam Bones was quiet for a long moment. "You realize that what you're proposing is essentially unprecedented? The Ministry doesn't typically enter into partnerships with first-year students on equal terms."
"We're not asking for equal terms," Susan said. "We're asking for fair terms."
"Fair terms that recognize our contributions and potential," Eliot added.
---
The negotiation continued for two hours. Madam Bones was tough but fair, pushing back on some of their requests while acknowledging the validity of others. In the end, they reached a compromise that satisfied both parties.
The modified partnership would give them access to Ministry resources and mentorship while allowing them to maintain ownership of their core innovations. They would have the right to pursue independent research, subject to safety review. The Ministry would have first consideration for commercial applications, but not exclusive rights.
"This is highly unusual," Madam Bones said as they finalized the terms. "But your work is highly unusual as well. We're willing to try this arrangement on a trial basis."
"Thank you," Susan said. "We won't disappoint you."
"See that you don't. The Ministry is taking a significant risk on two first-year students. We expect exceptional results."
As Madam Bones left, Eliot felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. They had achieved something remarkable—a partnership with the Ministry that preserved their independence and supported their goals.
But they had also committed themselves to exceptional performance under intense scrutiny. The real work was just beginning.
"No pressure," Susan said with a nervous laugh.
"None at all," Eliot agreed. "Just the future of magical innovation resting on our shoulders."
Outside the conference room windows, snow was beginning to fall again. But inside, the future felt bright with possibility and heavy with responsibility.
They were no longer just students playing with magical devices. They were partners in the future of magical innovation.
The question was: were they ready for what came next?