Progress on the hair wand was not going smoothly, mainly because Robert had difficulty finding a wand body that matched Professor McGonagall's hair. Wizards possess unique personal traits and will subconsciously reject anything they dislike.
Oak, grapevine, beechwood... Robert had tried all the materials he carried with him over the past few days. Not only did none of them work, but he also accidentally snapped two strands of hair in the process.
This left Robert feeling glum for several days, debating whether he should wait until the weekend to ask Hagrid to take him into the Forbidden Forest.
As the preoccupied Robert walked past the common room, he was stopped by Harry and Ron, who suddenly appeared and reached out to block his path.
"Hey, Robert, what's up with you these past few days? You've been totally out of it," Harry asked, frowning.
"Yeah," Ron agreed.
Hermione also walked over. "You've been late three times now, costing Gryffindor a total of twenty points..."
"What are you talking about?" Ron glared at her, then turned back to Robert. "We just wanted to ask if something's wrong. Maybe we can help."
"Ah, it's nothing," Robert muttered, rubbing his face. He realized he had indeed been too absorbed in his work these past few days.
How could making a wand from a wizard's hair be easy? Of course, it wouldn't be done in a day or two.
"Sorry," Robert said, trying to shake off the gloom. "I'll find a way to earn those lost points back."
"That doesn't matter. Snape would find a reason to deduct points from us anyway," Ron said, glaring at Hermione again. She turned her head away and didn't respond.
Incidentally, Robert had been late for Potions class yesterday and lost fifteen points for Gryffindor.
"What's the next class?" Robert asked.
"Flying," Harry replied, prompting everyone to sigh.
"What? You don't like Flying class?" Robert asked, puzzled.
"No, we just don't want to have class with Slytherin," Ron replied, pointing at a notice posted behind the door.
[Gryffindor first-years, please proceed to the grounds in front of the Castle by 3:30 PM on Thursday to learn to fly broomsticks with Slytherin students — Rolanda Hooch]
No wonder.
Gryffindor and Slytherin students never got along and bickered whenever they met. Normally, they only shared Potions class, which was just barely tolerable. Now they had Flying class together too.
"It can't be helped. The school's schedule can't be changed," Robert said. "Just pretend they're not there when the time comes."
"That's the only option," Harry replied with a groan. "But making a fool of myself in front of Malfoy on a broom? I doubt he'd pretend he didn't notice."
Robert didn't say anything.
Harry's worry was understandable, but unnecessary. Still, even if someone told him that, Harry likely wouldn't believe it.
Robert wasn't particularly fond of flying broomsticks.
Flying required holding the broomstick with one hand, making it difficult to wield a wand. That made him feel insecure. So, he generally preferred staying on solid ground—unless, of course, he could fly using a wand...
Hmm?
Robert glanced at the broomstick Madam Hooch had placed at his feet and suddenly blinked.
Why did the wooden handle of this flying broomstick look so much like a large wand?
The more he looked, the more it resembled one. The length-to-thickness ratio matched exactly with standard wand proportions.
Robert subconsciously reached out his hand to take a closer look.
With just a thought, the flying broomstick immediately leapt into his hand.
"A perfect demonstration! Even I couldn't have done it better!" Madam Hooch exclaimed. "Two points to Gryffindor—but do raise your hand before demonstrating next time. This time it's forgiven."
Robert barely heard what Madam Hooch was saying; his attention was entirely focused on the wooden handle of the broomstick.
It was perfect. Though the surface was a bit rough, there were no cracks, which meant the interior was still intact.
He pulled out his wand and gently tapped the broomstick handle.
The wood unfurled like a scroll, peeling apart layer by layer until over a dozen thin wooden pieces were laid out before him.
Robert casually picked up one piece and examined the grain.
Fir wood. Not just any fir—this was premium quality, probably around a hundred years old based on its condition.
It had been well-maintained. Once the rough outer layer was removed, the inner wood was smooth and delicate, almost as if it had been polished with wax.
To be honest, Robert's action of dismantling the broomstick without permission was definitely against school rules, but nobody stopped him. Not even Madam Hooch noticed.
...Well, she really hadn't noticed.
Everyone's attention was fixed on the sky.
Maybe it was Robert's earlier warning, but Neville seemed especially nervous. He ended up misinterpreting Madam Hooch's command and shot into the air unexpectedly.
Then he crashed straight into the opposite wall.
Madam Hooch had already taken him to the infirmary. Now, Harry and Malfoy were fighting mid-air over the Remembrall Neville had dropped.
All eyes were on them. Nobody noticed Robert dismantling the broomstick.
Ten minutes later, Professor McGonagall hurried over from the castle.
"Falling from that height... How dare you... Alright, Potter, come with me."
She then turned sharply. "Also, Ollivander, the school does not allow damaging school property. Two points deducted from Gryffindor. If you can't fix that broom before next class, it'll be twenty!"
No one answered.
"Mr. Ollivander, are you listening to me?" McGonagall asked sternly, her glasses gleaming with restrained anger.
Hermione punched Robert in the arm.
"Restore the broomstick to its original state. Immediately!" McGonagall ordered again.
Although he hadn't been paying attention to what happened earlier, Robert could guess the situation. He nodded quickly.
Professor McGonagall's expression softened slightly as she led a dejected Harry off the field.
"You're too bold," Hermione said with a mix of admiration and exasperation. "Why would you dismantle the school's broomstick?"
"I didn't damage it," Robert replied, pulling out another wand from his pocket.
After closely observing the handle, he concluded that the broomstick's wood met all criteria for wand-making and didn't even need extra modification.
He wasn't sure yet whether there were any runes carved into the wood, though. He hadn't had time to check. If none were present, he might actually be able to fly using a wand.
Robert held the wand upright, preparing to reassemble the broomstick and settle matters with McGonagall later.
But the motion caused a strand of hair on the wand to flick into the air.
The strand floated gently downward—and landed perfectly on one of the wooden pieces.
It was Professor McGonagall's hair. Robert had pocketed it after his earlier failed experiments.
Now, the hair clung tightly to the cross-section of the wood, fitting so perfectly that even shaking it didn't dislodge it. It was as if it had been naturally fused.
"This..." Robert's lips twitched as a strange sense of irony bubbled up inside him.
It seemed he had finally found the matching wand body material—no, it was more like the hair had found it.
Professor McGonagall's hair, perfectly fused with a flying broomstick handle—an object representing Quidditch.
Alright, that made perfect sense now.
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