After hurriedly saying goodbye to Hagrid, Robert grabbed the package and walked back toward the Castle with growing impatience.
As he crossed the open ground in front of the Castle, he spotted Harry and his friends. Hermione was conjuring a small, flickering blue flame and carefully bottling it.
It was a Bluebell Flame—a special magical fire that didn't burn the skin and was pleasantly warm to the touch. It was one of the most commonly used warming charms among wizards. But that "common usage" mostly applied to adult wizards. Few first-years could master this charm.
If Professor Flitwick had seen her, he probably would've awarded five points to Gryffindor. Unfortunately, it wasn't Flitwick who noticed—it was Snape. And he wasn't paying attention to Hermione at all.
"What do you have in your hand, Potter?"
"It's Quidditch Through the Ages," Harry replied, showing him the book.
"Confiscated. Books from the library are not allowed outside the Castle." Snape snatched the book from Harry's hands.
Apparently, he was in a relatively good mood—he didn't deduct any house points.
Robert, passing nearby, didn't intend to get involved. But Snape, true to form, was on a mission to assert his authority.
"Stop, Ollivander! What do you have there?" Snape demanded, gliding toward Robert like an oversized bat.
"I bought something. The owl just delivered it," Robert said, holding up the brown paper package.
Snape pursed his lips, eyeing the package, but said nothing further. He didn't invent a new rule on the spot, as he had done with Harry. It was clear his animosity was reserved for Harry, not all of Gryffindor. Still, it was a pity he didn't find an excuse to deduct some house points—it would've brightened his day.
He was about to walk away when he paused, nose twitching. He caught a scent—faint but unmistakable.
The smell of blood.
As a Potions Master, Snape recognized the odor instantly.
His gaze snapped back to the brown paper bag in Robert's hands.
"Open it," he ordered, eyes narrowing.
"Now. Immediately. Don't make me say it twice!"
Robert, calm and cooperative, unwrapped the package in a few quick motions.
Snape leaned in at once. Harry, Hermione, and Ron—still standing nearby—also edged closer, curiosity piqued.
Inside were several small, bloody hearts—each about the size of a chicken egg.
"Ugh—" Hermione was the first to cry out, paling as she pursed her lips and turned away.
Ron looked even worse. His face turned green, and he nearly vomited.
Harry looked deeply uncomfortable but managed to hold it together.
Snape's expression was grim, but not out of disgust. As a Potions Master, dealing with animal parts and other macabre materials was routine. Barrels of rat spleens and toad livers were just another Tuesday in the dungeon.
No, what troubled him was something else.
Hearts were rarely used in potions. They were more often associated with dark magic—particularly in powerful, dangerous curses.
This wasn't something to ignore.
"What is this?" Snape barked.
"Red Cap hearts," Robert answered coolly.
"Why would you purchase such things?"
"Because I need them," Robert said with a shrug. "There's no Hogwarts rule that says students can't buy Red Cap hearts."
Snape's lips twitched with suppressed irritation. He couldn't immediately refute the point, but his gaze turned colder.
"Well, there is such a rule now," he snapped. "Tell me the real reason you're buying these."
"Fine. I'm using them to make wands," Robert replied.
"Lies!" Snape's voice cut through the cold air like a blade. "No one makes wands using a Red Cap heart!"
"Excuse me, Professor Snape," Harry interjected. "We saw Robert do it with our own eyes."
"That's right," Ron added. "Neville and Seamus saw it too."
Their voices were firm and unwavering. If they were lying, they were doing a remarkable job.
Snape hesitated for the first time.
He turned and stared into Harry's eyes, trying to gauge the truth.
Harry met his gaze without flinching—until a strange feeling overcame him. A peculiar sensation that Snape was peering straight into his thoughts.
He looked away instinctively.
Snape's expression shifted.
He muttered something under his breath—too softly for anyone to hear clearly—though one phrase was barely audible: "It's actually true…"
Robert smirked slightly.
Snape had used Legilimency on Harry. There was no doubt.
And while Robert didn't want to be subjected to that kind of mind-reading magic, he couldn't help but be amused. He was the one who'd brought up the wand-making and the Red Cap hearts, yet Snape had probed Harry's mind instead.
Favoritism? Perhaps. Or maybe just Snape's particular obsession with Harry.
Not that it would've made much difference if Snape had used Legilimency on Robert.
As a member of the ancient Ollivander family—wandmakers for over two thousand years—his mind was well-protected.
The first time he'd opened the dusty old tome Wands and Wizards as a child, a complex magical circle embedded on the flyleaf had wrapped itself around his memory. Ancient magic from Merlin's time—far older than even the protective spells used in modern Occlumency.
The result? A mind shielded not only from Legilimency but also the Imperius Curse—at least from most wizards. Not even a seasoned Dark wizard could easily penetrate it. Only magical titans like Dumbledore, Tom Riddle, or Grindelwald might pose a threat.
It wasn't perfect, of course. The centuries had worn down the spell. But it was strong enough to keep most people out.
Back in the courtyard, Snape seemed to finally accept the explanation—grudgingly.
Yes, Robert could use Red Cap hearts in wand-making. And yes, he had witnesses.
Wandmakers were odd, Snape reminded himself. Eccentric, secretive, and often brilliant. What others saw as bizarre was routine for them.
But acceptance didn't mean approval.
And it certainly didn't mean he'd let a first-year store bloody hearts in the dormitory.
"Don't let this happen again," Snape snapped, snatching the bag away. "You are no longer permitted to order these things on your own."
Robert bristled. "What am I supposed to do in the future if I need them?"
Red Cap hearts weren't expensive. But convincing someone from Knockturn Alley to smuggle them into Hogwarts carried risk—hence the high markup. This bag had cost him a whole galleon. That was three days' worth of snacks for the entire dormitory.
"I'm a wandmaker. I'm registered with the Ministry. I have the right to create," he argued.
"That does not give you the right to trade with dark wizards," Snape replied sharply. "You can go through a professor."
Robert smirked. "You?"
He hadn't expected a real answer. He'd only wanted to irritate Snape a bit.
But Snape surprised him.
He thought for a moment—then nodded.
"You can."
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