When Magic Meets Iron

Harry sat across from Mr. and Mrs. Leeds, fingers steepled as Ned practically vibrated in his seat next to him.

His parents looked between the two boys with wariness, as if expecting them to announce that Ned had won a lottery or joined a secret government agency.

"So... what's this about?" Mr. Leeds asked, eyeing them both.

Harry took a breath. "Mr. and Mrs. Leeds, there's no easy way to say this, so I'll just get straight to the point. Magic is real. And Ned has a magical core."

Silence.

Mrs. Leeds blinked. Mr. Leeds pinched the bridge of his nose. Then, as one, they both turned to Ned.

Ned grinned. "Surprise! I'm magic! Well, sort of. More like... magic-adjacent? Magic-compatible? Discount wizard? Still figuring out the branding."

Mrs. Leeds stared. "Ned. Honey. Have you been watching those fantasy movies again?"

"I mean, yes, but that's not the point!" Ned huffed.

"Mom, Dad, it's real. Harry’s a wizard! He can prove it!"

Harry, who had expected skepticism, nodded.

"Would you like a demonstration?"

Mr. Leeds, still looking like he was regretting waking up this morning, sighed.

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

Harry flicked his wrist, and the teapot on the table suddenly lifted into the air, pouring steaming tea into the cups before settling itself back down.

Mrs. Leeds gasped. "Oh my God. The dishes are haunted!"

"No, Mom, it's magic!" Ned laughed.

"Do another one, Harry!"

Harry rolled his eyes but obliged. He waved his hand, and the lights dimmed as tiny golden stars appeared in the air around them, gently floating.

Then, with a snap of his fingers, the illusion swirled into a miniature glowing dragon, which flapped its wings before dissolving into soft sparkles.

"Oh." Mrs. Leeds looked faint. "Oh dear."

Mr. Leeds muttered, "Well, that’s new."

"This is the best day ever," Ned said dreamily, watching the last of the sparkles fade.

Harry cleared his throat. "Now that we've established magic is real, there’s something important I need to explain. The magical world is hidden from non-magical people—Muggles. There are strict laws about secrecy, and only immediate family is allowed to know. If word got out… there would be consequences."

Mr. Leeds leaned back. "So this is like one of those 'secret society, break the rules and we erase your memory' kind of things?"

"Er... yes, actually. That’s a real thing."

"Oh." Mr. Leeds took a long sip of tea. "Well, that’s horrifying."

Mrs. Leeds took a deep breath and turned to Ned. "Okay. You said you're magic-adjacent? What does that mean?"

Ned sat up straight. "I'm what’s called a squib. I have magic, but I can’t do spells the way Harry does. But! I do have an affinity for runes, which is like ancient magic coding!"

Mrs. Leeds pursed her lips. "That actually explains your obsession with computers."

Harry nodded. "There’s more. The magical world... isn't always kind to squibs. There's still prejudice. Some see them as lesser. I don’t want Ned to be vulnerable if he ever encounters that."

Ned frowned. "Wait. Are we talking 'mean words' prejudice or 'pitchforks and torches' prejudice?"

"Somewhere in between. Which is why I think you should learn the Mystic Arts."

Mr. Leeds raised an eyebrow. "Mystic Arts? What’s that?"

"A different kind of magic," Harry explained.

"It's not wand-based, but it draws from a deeper, universal source. Squibs have been able to use it before, and it would help Ned protect himself if needed."

Ned’s eyes practically sparkled. "So... you're saying I could become a mystic warrior? It sounds super awesome and fancy —using energy from the universe and Mystic."

Harry sighed. "I’m saying you could learn to defend yourself."

"Potato, potahto."

Mrs. Leeds still looked hesitant, but she sighed. "As long as he’s safe, and he still does his homework, I suppose there's no harm in learning."

Harry smiled. "I’ll make sure he gets the right training. And to start—" he reached into his bag and pulled out a stack of items, handing them to Ned "—this is a beginner’s guide to runes, a do’s and don’ts guide, runic ink, a special pen, and parchment to practice."

Ned took them like they were made of solid gold.

"Oh man. My very first magic homework. I love this."

Harry smirked. "Let’s see if you still love it when you actually have to study."

Mr. Leeds shook his head. "Well. This is a lot to take in. But… if this is real, and Ned has a future in it, then we’ll support him."

Mrs. Leeds nodded. "Just promise us one thing, Harry."

Harry met her gaze. "Anything."

"No magical accidents. Our son does not need to wake up glowing one day."

Harry coughed, avoiding eye contact. Ned just grinned. "No promises."

Ned sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by parchment, ink, and the books Harry had given him.

His Beginner’s Guide to Runes was open to the first practical exercise: a simple rune meant to create a faint, steady glow.

It looked easy enough—a few precise strokes, a tiny push of magic, and boom, instant magical nightlight.

Except… he was a squib.

His magic didn’t work like Harry’s.

He couldn’t cast spells, and runes relied on magic flowing through them.

But Harry had assured him that magic had different expressions, and runes might be the key to unlocking his own unique connection.

“Alright,” Ned muttered, dipping his quill into the shimmering runic ink. “Let’s see what happens.”

Carefully, he traced the rune onto the parchment.

The ink shimmered faintly, which he took as a good sign.

“Okay… now I just focus.” He placed his palm flat on the parchment, willing the rune to activate.

For a moment, nothing happened.

Then, the rune let out a weak fizz, before pulsing softly like a dying firefly.

Ned grinned. “Hey! That’s—”

The rune promptly sparked, shot out a tiny arc of static electricity, and zapped him right in the fingers.

“OW—okay, rude!” He shook his hand, glaring at the parchment as if it had personally insulted him.

“I was trying to be nice!”

He poked it again, cautiously.

Nothing.

Annoyed, Ned pressed down a little harder.

The rune gave a feeble flicker, then suddenly let out a pop and sent a puff of smoke spiraling into the air.

“Uh oh.”

The parchment suddenly burst into small, flickering blue flames.

“OH CRAP!” Ned scrambled, grabbing a cup of water and splashing it onto the flames—successfully dousing both the parchment and himself in the process.

He sat there, dripping wet, the faint smell of burnt ink in the air.

A second later, there was a sharp pop as Harry apparated into the room, wand raised. He took one look at Ned—soaked, surrounded by wet parchment, and looking at him sheepishly—and sighed.

“…What did you do?”

“I was trying the illumination rune,” Ned admitted. “It, uh… sort of… combusted?”

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Ned, you’re a squib. Your magic works differently. You can’t just activate runes by touch alone.”

“I wasn’t forcing it! I just… thought about light and everything!” Ned protested.

Harry crouched next to him and examined the parchment, now singed at the edges.

“The problem is runes don’t just react to intent alone. Squib magic tends to be more about resonance rather than output. You need something that harmonizes with your magic, not just conducts it.”

Ned blinked. “Like… a tuning fork?”

Harry grinned. “Exactly. Runic magic isn’t about raw power—it’s about precision and balance. Your magic is subtle, more like a ripple in a pond than a rushing river.”

He pulled out his wand and conjured a small, controlled glow above his palm. “See? This is like flipping a switch. But for you, it’s more like fine-tuning an instrument.”

Ned’s eyes lit up. “Ohhh, so I need something to amplify the signal instead of just brute-forcing it?”

“Kind of. We’ll experiment with different materials—maybe enchanted ink, special parchment, or infused stones. You just need the right medium.”

Ned grinned. “This is just like debugging code.”

Harry snorted. “Yeah, except the code sometimes catches on fire.”

From downstairs, Ned’s mom shouted, “NED! WHY DO I SMELL SMOKE?!”

Ned winced. “Uh, gotta go.”

Harry chuckled, handing him another parchment.

“Try again. But outside this time. I specifically choose this book as it only contains mild runes and none are combined— it's like learning only letter's instead of words so you would be fine without supervision.”

"However for anything more advanced than this, you will learn it under supervision."

“Noted.”

Ned had imagined his first Mystic Arts lesson to be something straight out of a fantasy movie—maybe some glowing rings, levitation, or at the very least, a dramatic opening of a portal to another dimension.

Instead, he was sitting on a cold floor, legs crossed, eyes closed, trying really hard not to think about the itch on his nose.

“Focus,” Wong’s voice was firm but patient.

“I am focusing,” Ned grumbled, cracking an eye open.

Wong gave him a look. “No, you’re thinking about how uncomfortable you are. That is not focus.”

Harry, leaning against a bookshelf, hid his smirk behind his hand. “Told you it wasn’t all fireballs and portals.”

Ned groaned and closed his eyes again, shifting slightly. “Fine, fine. Focusing.”

The lesson had started with Wong explaining the fundamental difference between Mystic Arts and wixen magic.

Unlike wizarding magic, which relied on inherent magical cores, spellwork, and enchanted objects, the Mystic Arts relied on drawing energy from the universe itself, channeling it with discipline and willpower.

It wasn’t something that needed a natural magical core—it needed training.

(The only reason he's learning is because Harry doesn't want him to be vulnerable just  because he has a magical core but cannot use it.

It's nice having a big brother.

And Ned gets to be a cool 'Mystic Warrier' according to him anyway.

Oh my god! What is even my life!.)

Which meant step one: meditation.

Ned had never realized how hard not thinking was.

After what felt like hours (but was probably ten minutes), Wong finally spoke. “Enough. Now, try to feel the space around you.”

Ned hesitated. “Uh, like, the air?”

Wong sighed. “No. Feel the energy. The world is filled with it. You do not see it, but it moves. Reach for it—not with your hands, but with your mind.”

Ned frowned and did his best.

He sat still, inhaled slowly, and tried… well, something.

At first, nothing happened. Then—just for a second—he felt something.

A tiny shift. Like the air wasn’t just air, but something more pressing lightly against him. The moment he realized it, the sensation slipped away.

His eyes snapped open. “Whoa.”

Wong raised a brow. “You felt it.”

Ned nodded quickly.

“I think so? It was like—it was there, and then gone. Like trying to hold onto water.”

Harry grinned. “That’s better than most beginners.”

Wong gave an approving nod. “Good. You have the awareness. Now you must train it.”

Ned groaned. “More meditation?”

“Much more.” Wong smirked. “But if you work hard, we might move on to something slightly more exciting next time.”

Ned slumped. “This is gonna be harder than I thought.”

Harry clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to training, little brother.”

Ned was at Harry's place practicing runes.

Peter was doing patrol so this is perfect opportunity as he cannot accidentally burn the house with Harry there.

Ned stared at the softly glowing rune on the parchment, completely awestruck.

He did it.

The rune shimmered faintly, pulsing like a tiny heartbeat.

His first real magical success.

"Oh man. This is so cool!" Ned whispered in amazement.

Behind him, Teddy gasped dramatically.

"I wanna do it too!" The little metamorphmagus's hair turned a deep mystical purple as he grabbed a quill with far too much confidence.

"I am the Great Rune Master Teddy and I shall create the most powerful rune ever!"

Ned barely had time to react before Teddy started scribbling what could generously be called runes.

They looked more like wobbly, enchanted doodles, but the sheer enthusiasm was undeniable.

And then Delphi, barely two years old, let out an excited squeal and smacked her tiny hands into the enchanted ink, giggling as she dragged them across the floor.

Her "runes" were even less accurate than Teddy’s.

They weren’t runes at all—just chaotic toddler scribbles.

Then the room glowed.

Ned’s awe turned to instant, visceral panic. Oh no.

First, the parchment with Teddy’s rune ignited in shimmering blue fire. It didn’t burn anything—just hovered dramatically, swirling in patterns. Teddy howled in excitement and ran in circles shouting,

"I HAVE SUMMONED THE ANCIENT FLAMES!"

Then Delphi clapped her hands, and suddenly everything not nailed down started floating.

Ned let out an undignified squawk as the chair he was sitting on levitated a solid two feet off the ground. His book shot into the air, flipping pages wildly. The inkwell spun in lazy circles, completely ignoring gravity.

"AHHH—HARRY!" Ned shouted as he flailed helplessly in mid-air.

"THEY'RE BREAKING REALITY!"

Harry apparated into the room with a pop, wand raised. He took one look at the situation—the floating objects, Teddy cackling like a tiny warlock, and Delphi clapping in delight as she actively rewrote the laws of physics—and just sighed.

"Kreacher! Dobby! HELP!" Harry called, because even he knew better than to handle this alone.

The two house-elves popped into existence immediately.

"Master Harry's children are causing chaos again!" Kreacher rasped in disapproval.

Dobby, on the other hand, looked delighted. "Oh, Mistress Delphi is so powerful!" he squeaked. "And young Master Teddy has summoned fire! Great accomplishments for such little wixen!"

"NOT HELPING, DOBBY!" Ned yelped as the chair flipped sideways, nearly dropping him before the floating effect randomly decided to hold him in place again.

Harry flicked his wand, muttering a series of counter-charms.

One by one, the floating objects dropped to the ground, the fire rune poofed out of existence, and gravity remembered it had a job to do.

Ned, unfortunately, dropped straight to the floor with a thud.

He groaned. "I think… I think I saw my life flash before my eyes."

Teddy beamed. "Was it cool?"

"No, it was terrifying! How are you both so powerful?!"

Delphi clapped her hands again. A book exploded into butterflies.

Ned screamed.

Harry rubbed his temples. "Alright. No more rune experiments inside the house. Outside only. And maybe in a reinforced bunker."

Dobby picked up Delphi, who giggled and played with his ears.

"Oh, Mistress Delphi will be very, very strong! She will be a great wixen!"

Ned just sat on the floor, eyes wide, still processing.

He was supposed to be the one learning magic.

And yet, somehow, he was surrounded by a four-year-old mad scientist, a toddler goddess, and two magical creatures who treated all of this like Tuesday.

Hell Harry treated this like it's Tuesday.

He wasn’t sure if he should be impressed or deeply, deeply afraid.

"Harry," Ned finally said, staring blankly ahead. "I need a break. And possibly therapy."

Harry threw an arm around him. "Welcome to the magical world, bro!"

Ned was starting to think Harry had a death wish. Or at least an unnatural tolerance for chaos.

“A park,” Harry had said. “It’ll be fun,” he had assured.

Now, Ned stood in the middle of a wizarding park, utterly overwhelmed as Teddy giggled and changed his face for the fifth time in the last ten minutes, now resembling a very stern-looking witch who had walked by earlier.

Meanwhile, Delphi, strapped securely in a floating pram, was clapping her chubby hands, sending out little bursts of magic that made random objects bounce and wiggle around them.

“Harry,” Ned whispered urgently, grabbing his big brother’s sleeve.

“I don’t think she’s supposed to be doing that.”

Harry, the absolute madman, just hummed in acknowledgment, entirely unbothered as he sipped his enchanted iced tea.

“She’s two. It’s normal.”

“She just made that bench dance,” Ned pointed out.

Harry glanced over.

The wooden bench was indeed awkwardly tap-dancing in place, its legs clicking against the cobblestone path.

Harry flicked his fingers, subtly dispelling the enchantment, and the bench collapsed back into stillness as if nothing had happened.

“She’s got good control for her age,” Harry said proudly.

Ned gawked at him. “Good control?!”

Before Harry could respond, Teddy, still grinning, shifted his hair and eyes again—this time copying Ned’s face exactly.

“Oh, come on,” Ned groaned. “Stop doing that!”

Teddy smirked. “Why? Feeling threatened by your own good looks big brother?”

He even mimicked Ned’s voice perfectly, making Delphi squeal with laughter.

“Dude, that’s creepy,” Ned muttered, rubbing his arms.

Harry, as usual, looked entirely unfazed. “Teddy, if you’re going to mimic people, at least be subtle about it.”

Teddy huffed but returned to his usual blue-haired, bright-eyed self. “Fine.”

The peace lasted all of ten seconds before Delphi, in her excitement, made a nearby flock of birds start flying backward.

Ned waved his arms frantically. “Harry! Fix that! People are staring!”

Harry sighed and flicked his fingers again, undoing Delphi’s accidental spell.

She pouted and crossed her arms in her tiny way, clearly unimpressed that her magic had been stopped.

“She’s going to be a menace when she gets older,” Ned muttered.

Harry grinned nostalgic. “That’s the Black family blood. They’re all dramatic.”

Ned didn’t even want to think about what Delphi would be capable of as a teenager.

Just then, Teddy spotted a magical pet shop and gasped.

“Ooooh! Can we go in? Please? I wanna see the Kneazles!”

Before Ned could protest, Harry was already steering them toward the shop, completely at ease with the fact that he was bringing two walking magical disasters into a store filled with living creatures.

Ned, meanwhile, was pretty sure he was going to have a heart attack.

Ned stared at the assortment of wizarding games Harry had laid out on the floor, his brain short-circuiting at the sheer absurdity of them.

There were enchanted chess pieces that whispered strategies to their players, a deck of cards that shuffled itself (and occasionally tried to sneak away), and a board game called Exploding Gobstones that he was fairly certain was illegal somewhere.

"Alright, pick your poison," Harry said, amused at Ned's overwhelmed expression.

"You’ve got Wizard’s Chess, Exploding Snap, Quidditch board strategy, or—if you’re feeling brave—Zonked."

"Zonked?" Ned repeated warily.

Teddy gasped. "Can we play Zonked?! Can we?!"

Harry raised an eyebrow at Ned. "Zonked is… a little unpredictable. The game changes depending on who's playing. And the rules… bend. A lot."

"I love bending rules!" Teddy declared, his hair flashing neon green in excitement.

Ned, against his better judgment, sat down.

"Alright. Let’s get zonked."

The moment Harry opened the box, the board unfolded itself with a flourish, floating in mid-air as the game pieces zipped into place.

A glowing quill materialized and scrawled across the board in shimmering gold letters:

WELCOME TO ZONKED! RULES? WHAT RULES? JUST DON’T LOSE.

"I already regret this," Ned muttered.

The game started off simple—roll the enchanted dice, move a few spaces, follow the prompts.

But within minutes, chaos had erupted. Teddy had somehow conjured a swarm of tiny flying pigs that zoomed around the room.

Delphi, delighted, clapped her hands, which promptly made the pigs start singing. Loudly.

"WHY ARE THEY SINGING?!" Ned shouted over the chorus of squealing harmonies.

"Because Delphi rolled a Wild Card!" Harry called back, utterly unfazed as he sipped his tea.

(He needs more tea to live.)

"Just go with it!"

Ned tried.

He really did.

But then his next roll transported him three feet into the air, hovering helplessly above the board while the game mocked him with a glowing sign that read: FLOAT MODE ACTIVATED. TRY AGAIN, PEASANT.

"Oh, come on!"

Teddy cackled. "Ned's losing! Ned's losing!"

"This game is rigged!"

Delphi giggled and smacked her chubby hands on the board, causing all the game pieces to shuffle around randomly.

The pigs vanished, but in their place, a tiny raincloud appeared over Ned’s head, drizzling exclusively on him.

"I QUIT!"

"You can't quit Zonked!" Harry said, grinning.

"You have to finish the game. Otherwise, the board follows you for the next 24 hours."

Ned stared at him. "You're joking."

The board cheerfully chimed: HE IS NOT JOKING. SIT BACK DOWN, PEASANT.

Harry just sipped his tea. Teddy and Delphi dissolved into giggles.

Ned sighed and rolled the dice.

    INTERLUDE

Ned sat cross-legged on the floor of Harry’s living room, carefully inscribing a rune onto a small wooden tile.

He had been improving—slowly—but progress was progress.

Teddy, watching over his shoulder, bounced excitedly. “Ooooh! Can I try? I bet I can make it work better!”

Ned hesitated. “I don’t know, man. Harry said runes are precise and need control and I don't want to repeat what happened last time.”

Teddy grinned. “I got so much magic! I bet it’ll be super cool!”

Before Ned could protest, Teddy pressed his tiny, chubby hands over the rune, his eyes flashing with mischief. Magic surged into the symbol, the ink glowing an alarming, fiery gold.

“Oh no.”

The rune didn’t glow. It exploded.

A blast of shimmering light erupted, and suddenly, everything in the room started floating.

The couch? In the air.

The bookshelf? Hovering.

Delphi? Giggling as she happily spun in midair like a delighted, giggling top.

“TEDDY!” Ned shouted, now weightless and flailing. “WHAT DID YOU DO?!”

Teddy cackled. “I think I made it better!”

Delphi clapped her hands, somehow making the magic worse.

The room tilted sideways, though technically, nothing had moved—except Ned’s sense of gravity, which now believed that up was wherever it wanted to be.

“I DON’T LIKE THIS!” Ned yelped, waving his arms and accidentally somersaulting midair.

Teddy, who had gleefully flipped upside down, gasped. “Oh! Maybe I can fix it!” He waved his hands.

The room shimmered.

The floating furniture grew legs.

“WHY DOES THE COUCH HAVE LEGS, TEDDY?!” Ned screamed as the couch scurried away.

Teddy, wide-eyed, looked at his hands. “That… wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Delphi, now happily hovering, reached out and booped Ned’s nose. “Fix!” she declared.

Instead of fixing anything, Ned’s hair turned bright neon green. Along with walls.

“OKAY, NO MORE HELP FROM THE TINY PEOPLE!” Ned yelled, kicking his legs in the air and flailing like a helpless turtle.

Just as he was contemplating whether this was how he died, a familiar pop sounded in the doorway.

Harry walked in. He stopped. He looked around.

The floating furniture.The neon-green Walls.The levitating toddlers. The sentient, scuttling couch. Ned, midair, spinning in slow motion with neon-green hair.

Harry sighed deeply.

Ned, wild-eyed and floating, pointed frantically. “I CAN EXPLAIN—”

Harry held up a hand. “Don’t. I’ll fix it.”

A simple wave of his wand, and the room snapped back to normal.

Ned crashed onto the couch—thankfully now back to being an ordinary inanimate object—while Delphi landed safely in Harry’s arms, still giggling.

Teddy plopped onto the carpet, looking vaguely disappointed.

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. “Teddy, what have we said about helping with runes?”

Teddy shuffled guiltily. “Don’t?”

Harry nodded. “And Delphi?”

The toddler beamed and raised her arms. “More!”

Harry sighed again, rubbing his temples. Ned, hair stll neon green, flopped onto his back and groaned.

“Harry,” Ned mumbled into the cushion. “you said that chances are high for my kids to me magic?— I’m never having kids.”

Harry patted his shoulder.