From that evening until dawn, Robert had been pondering the reason behind the wand-making success.
He considered many possibilities, but the most convincing one was that Ron's intense desire for a wand of his own—his strong emotion—had influenced the final outcome.
And this possibility seemed highly likely.
In the wizarding world, emotions were considered a unique kind of magic and were incredibly important. Many spells relied on emotional energy to succeed. The most famous example was the Patronus Charm, which required summoning happy memories and positive feelings. Apparition was another example—it only worked if you truly believed you could do it. This kind of inner conviction, or determination, was critical.
These were all examples of emotional magic.
If that were the case, it wouldn't be surprising that Ron had influenced the spell's result.
However, the characteristics of the wand didn't quite seem to suit Ron. The wand had an affinity for jinxes like the Hot-Air Charm or Tarantallegra. These weren't lethal spells but were often troublesome and chaotic. Was Ron particularly talented with jinxes? Probably not.
Then there was the Exploding Charm—clearly Seamus's style. Or maybe a Red Cap's. Red Caps loved to explode things. In fact, Robert thought even a Fire Crab's tail was more stable than this wand core.
By dawn, Robert, exhausted and unable to concentrate further, rubbed his forehead, changed into his pajamas, and lay down on the bed.
"Forget it," he muttered. "What matters is that it worked."
And it had.
According to his past experience, once he successfully made a wand using a new core, it became much easier to use that same core in future attempts. A hidden benefit—and not a small one.
After all, compared to unicorns and dragons, Red Caps were absurdly cheap. Robert had bought Red Cap hearts in Knockturn Alley by the pound—five hearts per pound for just two sickles. Often, the sellers even threw in toad tongues or lizard tails as a bonus.
Roughly estimated, the cost of a single Red Cap heartstring was less than twenty knuts.
Ollivander had always believed that wand cores made from such dark creatures were unstable and couldn't resonate with a wizard's magic. He thought Robert was wasting his time.
But Robert had actually made one work.
"No way!" Robert suddenly sat up in bed.
Whether it was to show off or to prove a point, he needed to write a letter to Ollivander—immediately.
Still asleep, old man? Time to wake up and question your life!
Robert didn't even wait until morning. At dawn, he quietly left the common room and headed straight to the Owlery.
On the way, he ran into the Weasley twins.
According to them, Mrs. Norris was still in the school hospital, and Filch was left to patrol on his own. In their words, this rare opportunity for a nighttime stroll couldn't be missed.
They fully approved of Robert's behavior, saying it was a true Gryffindor move.
Hmm…
It was one thing to chat with them, but did they really have to throw in an insult while complimenting him?
After parting ways with the twins, Robert hurried to the Owlery, sent off the letter—along with the wand—and retraced his steps back to the Gryffindor common room.
As the twins had said, it truly was a perfect night for a walk. He didn't run into Filch even once.
But there was a price to pay for sneaking out: Robert was late the next morning—and not just for any class, but for Professor McGonagall's Transfiguration.
"Sorry, Professor. I got lost," Robert said awkwardly, standing at the classroom doorway.
"That excuse has already been used by Mr. Potter and Mr. Weasley," Professor McGonagall said, pursing her lips. "I hope you'll give me a different excuse. I don't think a first-year needs three maps."
"Sorry, Professor. It won't happen again," Robert sighed.
"I hope you remember that promise," Professor McGonagall replied. "Gryffindor loses two points. Now take your seat quickly—we're about to begin."
Robert quickly made his way to the back row and sat down, feeling slightly annoyed.
Because of his midnight outing, he had woken up late—as expected.
This was their very first Transfiguration class. He had missed the iconic moment: Professor McGonagall's Animagus transformation.
At the start of the term, she always entered the classroom in the form of a tabby cat and then transformed back into human form in front of the stunned first-years.
But Robert had missed it—entirely. And not just him—Harry and Ron had been late as well, just before him.
It was all their fault!
Silently, Robert decided to add an extra galleon to Ron's wand price. Don't ask why. If you must know—because he didn't play fair!
That day's lesson was fairly simple: basic Transfiguration—turning a matchstick into a needle.
Of course, "simple" here was relative. For the first-years in the class, even basic Transfiguration was enough to make their heads spin.
By the end of the class, only two students had succeeded in changing their matchsticks.
One was Hermione.
The other was Robert.
Moreover, Robert had been the first to succeed, earning back the two points he had lost earlier.
Hermione didn't take it well. She seemed convinced Robert had practiced beforehand.
And to be fair—he had.
Most young wizards only got their first wand at age eleven, just before starting at Hogwarts. But Robert had received his first wand at nine—and not just one, but many.
Why had he worked so hard making wands?
Because he wanted to experience magic early.
If he didn't use them, wouldn't all those wands have been a waste?
After Transfiguration, they had Defense Against the Dark Arts.
But Professor Quirrell's class turned out to be a joke. His long, thick scarf constantly gave off a strong smell of garlic.
"It smells worse than the potion you soak your wands in," Seamus commented after class.
"Hey! That's herbs and tree sap," Robert replied. "A pint costs five galleons."
"That expensive?" Seamus's voice went up an octave.
His allowance for the whole school year was only five galleons!
"What did you think?" Robert shrugged. "Wand-making is an expensive business."
"Five galleons per wand soak?" Harry asked, shocked.
"No, it's enough for about a hundred wands."
"Huh?"
"Still more expensive than garlic though, right?"
"That's true."
They chatted as they walked toward the Great Hall.
"Oh right," Harry suddenly remembered something. "Robert, why were you staring at Professor Quirrell during Defense class?"
"Me? Staring at Professor Quirrell?" Robert blinked innocently. "Did I?"
"Yes, you did. We all saw it," Neville said quietly, confirming the truth.
"That obvious?"
Everyone nodded in unison.
While the rest of the class had been busy doing various things, Robert had his eyes glued to the back of Quirrell's head the entire time. How could it not be obvious?
"Oh, I was just curious about what's under his scarf," Robert said casually. "Whether he's actually hiding a string of garlic. Aren't you curious?"
"Hm… a little," they all admitted.
"…But we wouldn't stare," Harry added. "Didn't you notice? Quirrell started avoiding you in the second half of the class."
"Really? I'll pay more attention next time," Robert said thoughtfully.
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