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The next day, Saturday, was also the day the Quidditch match was to be held.
It was the long-anticipated showdown between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and tension thickened the air like mist as students from both houses started squaring off from the moment breakfast began. Team members from each side were heavily guarded—most had no fewer than five senior students accompanying them to prevent pre-game ambushes. Incidents like that had happened more times than anyone cared to count, and both houses had developed their own countermeasures over the years.
"You don't have to eat so fast," Seamus Finnigan said with mild concern as he watched Robert hastily stuff bread into his mouth.
"It's only nine o'clock. The match won't start for another two hours."
Robert didn't answer; he had too much food in his mouth to speak. He reached out for the large bottle of pumpkin juice Neville offered and took a few long gulps before finally swallowing.
"I'm not here to watch the match," he said, glancing at the clock, then stood up abruptly and bolted from the Great Hall.
"Need me to save you a seat?" Seamus called after him. "It's the first match—there's going to be a crowd."
Robert didn't answer or turn back. He simply raised his hand and waved once before disappearing through the doors of the Great Hall.
"Is he going or not?" Seamus asked with a frown. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Probably not," Hermione guessed after a moment's thought. "Robert doesn't seem all that interested in Quidditch. He's never talked about it with us."
"Impossible!" Ron said, sounding absolutely sure. "No wizard doesn't like Quidditch. It's the most popular sport ever. Right, Harry?"
Harry didn't answer. His mind was already blank with nerves about the upcoming match, and he hadn't heard a word Ron had said.
"Why aren't you eating?" Hermione asked, eyeing Harry's untouched sausage and bread.
"Not hungry?"
"I can't eat," Harry admitted. His stomach was churning too much from nerves to even consider food.
"You can't be serious." Hermione frowned. "I read in a book that Quidditch matches can last a really long time—sometimes even a day or two. You've got to make sure you have the stamina."
"But I'm really not hungry."
"You still need to eat. You're the Seeker. The other team is going to be all over you," Seamus said, and without asking, he grabbed Harry's sausage and slathered it with ketchup.
"Thanks, Seamus," Harry muttered.
Everyone at the Gryffindor table was trying to cheer Harry on in their own way.
Meanwhile, outside the castle, Robert had already arrived at Hagrid's cabin and knocked on the door.
It opened a moment later, revealing Hagrid's familiar bearded face—though his expression was far from relaxed.
"I really shouldn't have agreed to this yesterday," Hagrid said heavily.
"But you already did," Robert replied. "And Hagrid, you're going to be a professor soon. You can't just break promises like that."
"Professor, me? How could I be a professor?" Hagrid grumbled, slapping his forehead.
Last night, Robert had played to Hagrid's emotions, suggesting that a professor like him surely understood the value of magical artifacts—and in his moment of pride, Hagrid had given something away. Only after the fact had he realized that he might've been tricked. With his record at the Ministry of Magic, Hagrid wasn't even allowed to use a wand openly—how could he ever become a professor?
But the promise was made, and more importantly, Robert seemed truly fascinated by the object in question.
"Come in," Hagrid muttered, pushing the door open just wide enough for Robert to slip inside. "Don't let anyone see you."
"Don't worry, I was careful," Robert said as he stepped in eagerly. "Where is it?"
"There," Hagrid said, pointing toward the fireplace. "Just like you asked. I set it by the hearth... Fang nearly went crazy last night. Had to put him in another room."
Robert hardly needed the direction. The moment he entered, his eyes locked onto it: the complete, unbroken spine of a troll.
He couldn't take his eyes off it.
"But Robert, why do you want something like this?" Hagrid asked with a frown. "I thought only... well, only certain kinds of wizards would use it." He hesitated, unwilling to say the words "Dark wizard."
"You don't understand, Hagrid. You have no idea what this means to a wandmaker." Robert's voice trembled with excitement. "In the sixth century BC, the invincible Andros tried to make a unique wand for his Patronus, and the core was a mountain troll's spinal nerve."
"Andros who?" Hagrid scratched his head, the name unfamiliar.
"Andros the Invincible," Robert clarified. "The most powerful wizard in ancient Greece. He was the first to abandon wands entirely and helped launch the age of wandless magic. He also invented the Patronus Charm as we know it—his Patronus was the size of a giant. No one else has ever come close to that."
"Oh..." Hagrid nodded slowly, not particularly impressed by a wizard from two thousand years ago. But then something odd struck him.
"Wait, did you say the Patronus used a wand? How does that make sense?"
"Of course it didn't—that's why Andros failed," Robert said with a small shrug. "But the wand was real, and it was the only one a Giant could ever use."
Hagrid instinctively glanced toward a cabinet in the corner of the cabin, where his broken wand was kept inside a pink umbrella.
"So you want to make a wand for a Giant?" Hagrid asked, beginning to piece it together. "Using a troll's spinal nerve?"
"No," Robert said seriously. "I want to use the entire spine."
Hagrid stared at him. The troll's spine was five feet long and as thick as a soup bowl. That couldn't possibly be used in a wand—could it?
Robert knew it was unlikely, but the chance to try was too rare to pass up. He had a strong sense that if he succeeded, it would mark a massive breakthrough in his wandmaking career—just like his grandfather, Garrick Ollivander, had experienced when he first crafted a wand using a phoenix feather.
That phoenix feather, by the way, had been donated by Fawkes himself. Garrick Ollivander had been 29 at the time.
"Well... if you're that determined," Hagrid said at last, choosing to trust Robert even if he didn't quite understand. "Need help?"
"No need," Robert said. "Snape already treated it. It's clean—absolutely perfect."
"You need anything else then?"
"I'm missing a wand body that's worthy of it..." Robert said thoughtfully. "Hagrid, what happened to the troll's club?"
"That old thing? Useless," Hagrid replied. "I think I threw it into the Forbidden Forest yesterday. I'll go check—should still be able to find it."
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