Twenty minutes later, Hermione finally understood what Robert had meant by their mode of transportation.
She never imagined that the new students would have to travel to school by boat. As they glided across the still waters, she caught sight of the majestic castle standing at the end of the lake. Window after window shimmered beneath the starry sky, mysterious and beautiful.
Most of the other first-years were just as captivated by the view, rooted in place as they stared in awe.
"Hurry up, new students! If you want to sit in the warm castle and enjoy a hearty dinner, get on the boats quickly," Hagrid called out.
"But be absolutely careful—no more than four per boat!"
"Harry, come here. The rest of you, follow."
Hagrid guided the new students in an orderly fashion.
"Hey, I know you."
Robert looked up at the boy across from him.
He had platinum blonde hair, a pale complexion, and an expression that was both arrogant and sharp. He seemed to have just lost an argument and was trying to mask it with an aggressive tone.
"I remember you," the boy said again. "You're the one from the wand shop, right?"
"Yes," Robert replied, glancing at the two boys flanking the speaker. They were stocky and thick-necked—more like wooden stumps than people.
"Oh, this is Crabbe, and this is Goyle," the boy said. "I'm Malfoy. Draco Malfoy. I suppose you're the same kind of person as us."
Robert raised an eyebrow. "If you mean pure-blood, then yes."
"Then you must know me, right?" Malfoy continued. "Or are you like some people—stupid and ignorant?"
His voice rose suddenly, obviously loud enough for someone in the nearby boat to hear—Harry Potter, likely, who sat just to their left with his unmistakable lightning-bolt scar.
Robert wondered if Malfoy had gone mad from irritation. Showing off your family name in this setting—was that really wise?
"Let me introduce myself. Robert Ollivander," Robert said calmly.
He looked at the slightly smug Malfoy and couldn't help but smile.
"In fact, when Malfoy the First rose to prominence, the Ollivander family had already been on this land for eighteen hundred years. Do you understand what that means?"
The boat went silent.
Then, from the boat next to theirs, came a loud, clear chuckle.
Malfoy's pale face turned an astonishing shade of red.
He hadn't even blushed that hard when Harry Potter humiliated him on the train earlier. He was "humiliated" again now—but this time, the facts couldn't be denied.
Robert wanted to laugh too but held it in.
Malfoy had brought this on himself.
If they were talking about galleons, the Ollivanders might rank near the bottom among pure-blood families. But in terms of heritage and legacy, none in all of England could match them. Not Hogwarts. Not even Merlin.
Hogwarts had been founded a thousand years ago, in the tenth century. Merlin and King Arthur belonged to the sixth. But Ollivander? The sign outside the shop said it clearly: Since 382 B.C. That's more than nine hundred years before Merlin.
Robert looked at Malfoy's flushed face and spread his hands. "Tsk. You clearly saw me at the wand shop. Why act like you didn't?"
The air seemed slightly warmer—maybe just an illusion—but Robert wasn't aiming to completely humiliate Malfoy. He extended a hand toward him.
"Let me formally introduce myself. Robert Ollivander. And yes, I do know you... Hawthorn, unicorn hair, ten inches, right?"
The olive branch was timely. Malfoy's face returned to normal at a speed visible to the naked eye.
He hesitated a moment, clearly wanting to brush off the offered handshake, but in the end, he reached out and shook Robert's hand.
"Draco Malfoy."
"You already said that once," Robert replied.
"You're definitely going to be sorted into Slytherin," Malfoy said quickly, changing the subject.
"Perhaps," Robert said.
Still—did Malfoy really understand the weight of "382 B.C."?
The truth was, the Ollivanders had never cared for anything outside of wands. If they had, that whole "pure-blood" nonsense wouldn't even matter. Even Salazar Slytherin himself would have to stand behind their lineage.
And in the end, does it matter? Trace anyone's lineage back far enough, and we're all mixed-blood.
Still, after that handshake, peace had been brokered. But on the boat next to them, disappointment lingered.
"I thought Malfoy was going to get a lesson," Ron grumbled. Then he grinned. "But this works too. Did you see Malfoy's face? Redder than the Hogwarts Express!"
"Ah, I saw it," Harry said with a smirk.
"Wait a minute," Hermione, sitting opposite them, suddenly spoke. "The Ollivander family—do they really have eighteen hundred years of history?"
"Maybe. Maybe not," Ron said, scratching his head.
To be honest, he wasn't sure either. He just knew that the Ollivander name was legendary. Everyone in his family—from his dad to his granddad—used wands from them.
But how far back did they go, exactly?
Who knew? Who bothered to find out?
The four of them fell silent, each lost in thought, while Robert and Malfoy chatted away with surprising ease.
In just a few minutes, Malfoy had asked Robert three times whether he could really make a wand turn silver and green.
Robert, who had accidentally let that slip earlier, shrugged nonchalantly. "Still researching. The technique isn't quite mature yet. You'll have to be patient."
"I'll pay extra! As much as it takes!" Malfoy exclaimed, thumping his chest.
A silver base with green patterns—Slytherin's colors. For Malfoy, it was non-negotiable. No green wand? Then how could he claim to be a true Slytherin?
As the boat glided across the lake, moonlight caught the blush still lingering on Malfoy's face—though this time, it was from excitement.
Robert looked down at the thirty galleon deposit in his hand and smiled.
His earlier instinct had been correct: Coming to Hogwarts was going to make earning money a lot easier than expected.
In this peculiar atmosphere, the boat finally reached the far shore.
Hagrid led the way, climbing the stone steps, and raised his massive fist to knock three times on the castle door.
It opened at once.
There stood Professor McGonagall, stern as ever, ready to guide the new students into the Great Hall.
Robert was near the back of the group. As he passed the threshold, Hagrid—about to leave—suddenly stopped him.
"What you said back at the wand shop," Hagrid muttered in a lowered voice. "Was it true?"
He glanced nervously toward the castle, clearly worried that McGonagall might overhear.
But the professor had already entered the Great Hall.
"What are you talking about?" Robert asked.
"My umbrella..." Hagrid replied, his voice barely audible.
He looked even more anxious now and patted his coat pocket unconsciously.
"Oh, of course it's true," Robert said casually. "If you ever need it."
"I live near the Forbidden Forest," Hagrid whispered quickly, as though that somehow sealed the deal.
Robert just nodded.
He knew Hagrid's secret.
And now, Hagrid knew that Robert was someone who could help.
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