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Overnight, Hogwarts Castle was blanketed in thick snow, as if reminding everyone that Christmas was drawing near.
Robert had originally planned to return to Diagon Alley for the holidays, having received a letter from his parents a month ago stating that they would be coming back to England for Christmas. But now, those plans had changed.
He glanced at the long-necked glass bottle placed on the windowsill, inside of which floated a "baseball bat" about two and a half feet long, suspended quietly in the middle of pale yellow resin.
This was the wand body he had been crafting over the past few days. Judging by its current condition, it would soon reach the required standard for a wand.
The other crucial element was the wand core—something Hagrid still refused to let him remove from the cabin.
If he returned home for Christmas, he wouldn't have time to complete this special wand until after the term resumed.
Not wanting to miss this rare opportunity, Robert signed his name on the list of students staying at school over the holidays.
"Robert Ollivander, come to my office." Snape's cold voice called out after Potions class ended.
Harry and the others, who were already by the door, paused and turned around to look at Robert.
The minor tension from a month ago had long since faded.
Harry and Ron had been waiting for a chance to reconnect with Robert, and now seemed like the perfect time.
"What does he want with you?" Harry asked, sounding a bit concerned.
"Don't worry, it's not detention," Robert replied.
"Maybe something I applied for has been approved."
"You actually asked him to get something for you?" Ron asked in surprise.
"Not exactly... It's not about buying something. It's more of a formal application. I went through Professor McGonagall," Robert said. "It's hard to explain quickly. I'll go now. See you in the Great Hall later."
With just a few exchanged words, their friendship felt restored, as though the previous friction had never occurred.
"Alright, see you in the Great Hall," Harry said, visibly relieved.
After leaving the classroom, Robert followed Snape to his office. Compared to his last visit, little had changed, except that the potion ingredients lining the walls had been replaced with a fresh batch.
"This is what you asked for," Snape said, placing a thumb-sized bottle on the table. His black eyes fixed on Robert as he added, "Now tell me—how did you know the school had Troll blood?"
"I heard it from Professor Quirrell," Robert answered calmly, offering the explanation he had prepared in advance.
He had decided to shift the blame to Quirrell. No matter what he said, Snape wasn't going to believe him entirely.
As expected, at the mention of Quirrell's name, Snape's expression darkened. His brows furrowed as if he'd just swallowed something foul.
"What do you need it for?" Snape demanded.
"To make a wand," Robert replied.
"Lies!" Snape snapped, suddenly leaning in. His black cloak billowed slightly as if stirred by a cold wind. "I've looked into it—wand-making doesn't require the blood of magical creatures. You'd better tell the truth!"
"I am telling the truth," Robert said steadily, meeting Snape's intense gaze.
"If you don't believe me, you can ask Professor McGonagall. She already confirmed it with my grandfather."
Robert wasn't lying.
This bottle of Troll blood had been requested in advance for use as a wand core, just in case. He had followed the proper protocol—first writing to his grandfather, Garrick Ollivander, who then submitted the application to Professor McGonagall, Head of Gryffindor. Once she approved, she passed it on to Snape.
It was a somewhat tedious process, taking several days, but it complied fully with school rules.
Because he was being honest, Robert felt no guilt whatsoever.
Snape stared deeply into Robert's eyes.
Suddenly, his face turned pale. Veins bulged on his forehead, and in seconds, beads of sweat formed on his brow.
Startled, Robert took a step back. Before he could say anything, Snape violently waved a hand.
"Get out. Get out!" he shouted, and the office door flew open with a loud bang.
Robert, guessing what had happened, said nothing. He swiftly grabbed the bottle from the table and exited the room.
The moment he stepped into the corridor, the door slammed shut behind him, shaking down a layer of dust from the ceiling.
Standing still for a moment, Robert reflected on Snape's strange behavior. He furrowed his brow slightly.
Did Snape... just try to use Legilimency on him?
He hadn't felt anything, but judging by Snape's reaction, it seemed likely.
Ancient wizards were far more brutal than modern ones, and that brutality extended to the magical formations they left behind.
If Occlumency was a curtain, then those formations were more like hornet nests hanging from a tree.
Not only would peeking inside get you stung, just getting near one could trigger a painful reaction.
Snape had likely been stung.
Using Legilimency on a student over a bottle of Troll blood that had already been approved by Professor McGonagall?
Well, he got what he deserved.
Robert's respect for Snape as a Professor had dropped a notch.
Still, as long as Snape continued helping him acquire materials, he remained useful.
As Robert made his way out of the dungeons, he found the corridor leading to the entrance hall densely packed.
Students crowded both sides. More were still arriving, all from Gryffindor and Slytherin.
The two groups stood on opposite sides, separated by their red and green scarves, shouting loudly at each other. Some even had their wands drawn.
With more students arriving by the minute, the path ahead became completely blocked.
That was when Robert realized that the entrance to the dungeon classroom where he stood was right behind the Slytherin group.
Looking ahead, all he could see were silver and green scarves.
However, because of the distance and the noisy chaos, no one had noticed him yet.
A full-blown house conflict?
Potential mass brawl?
Silently, Robert drew his wand, briefly considering whether to launch a surprise attack.
From his position, he could easily strike the Slytherin group from behind and cause chaos.
But before he could act, a loud gasp sounded behind him.
"Oh, what is this!"
Startled, Robert turned around and relaxed upon seeing the newcomers.
"Fred, George—what are you two doing here?"
"To sneak attack them from behind, of course," Fred said without hesitation.
"Before you say anything else, can you tell us what you're holding?" George added.
"Wands," Robert replied.
"We can see that," George said, squinting. "But why are you holding three wands?"
"Because I can only hold three in one hand," Robert said matter-of-factly.
"You have more?" Fred asked.
"Of course," Robert answered nonchalantly. "As a wandmaker, it's perfectly reasonable for me to carry a few extras."
If it had been possible, Robert would've carried more. But being only a first-year, three was already the limit.
Fred and George exchanged stunned looks. For a moment, what Robert said almost made sense…
Wait, no—it wasn't about how big his hands were!
"What's going on here? Everyone, disperse immediately!"
Before Fred or George could say more, Professor McGonagall arrived, breathless and furious, with Hermione in tow.
Her lips were tightly pressed together.
Students immediately began shuffling to the sides, trying to look inconspicuous. But the crowd was thick, and a few even fell in the process.
"Pointing wands at classmates—do you even realize what you're doing?" she said, her voice trembling with anger.
"Twenty points from Gryffindor and twenty points from Slytherin!"
The group went quiet as her voice cut through the din.
"Clear out now! If this happens again, the Gryffindor-Slytherin Quidditch match will be canceled!"
That declaration caused instant panic, and the students scrambled to disperse faster than ever.
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