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Robert truly felt that staying at Hogwarts for Christmas had been an incredibly wise decision.
It was as if even the Troll understood the holiday spirit, giving him a little surprise just before nightfall.
The Fusion Charm had worn off, which meant the Troll's rib bone had genuinely transformed into a qualified wand core.
Although it still appeared somewhat large, that didn't matter. Robert had anticipated this and had specially prepared a wand body over two feet in length, perfectly accommodating the core.
He'd initially thought he'd need to modify it again, but now it seemed that wouldn't be necessary.
Next, it would be time to officially craft the wand.
But it was too late in the day. At Hagrid's insistence, Robert had to restrain his eager hands and leave the wooden cabin, glancing back every few steps.
Hagrid walked him to the door.
He didn't mind Robert staying—after all, the sounds he made while working on the wand were far quieter than Fang's snoring and wouldn't disturb him in the slightest.
But Professor McGonagall had started inspecting the dormitories at night.
This hadn't been a rule in previous years, but this year was special. Two of the Weasley brothers were staying at Hogwarts, prompting Professor McGonagall to be more diligent.
Still, seeing Robert's reluctant expression, Hagrid hesitated. He turned back toward the house, clearly torn.
A few minutes later, bundled in his moleskin coat, he hurried after Robert.
Dinner was a spread of turkey sandwiches and toast with cranberry sauce. It was delicious, and everyone ate cheerfully.
Except for Robert, whose mind was completely preoccupied with the wand body and core he had nearly completed. He barely noticed the food he was eating.
At the teachers' table, Dumbledore was examining a brown wand with great interest. Beside him, Professor McGonagall was laughing heartily.
"I've tried it—it's truly remarkable," she said, casting a quick glance toward the absent-minded Robert. "Aside from being incompatible with my first wand, it's perfect in every way. It feels like an extension of my own hand."
"A hair wand core is that magical?" Dumbledore asked in astonishment.
Logically, someone of McGonagall's skill level wasn't particularly dependent on a wand. Wandless magic came easily to her.
Yet she had been joyful all day, and Dumbledore had noticed she was casting spells far more frequently than usual. Even minor spells she could have done without thinking were now being performed with the new wand Robert had made for her.
"It really is magical," Professor McGonagall replied. "It feels like part of me. For some of the simpler spells, I don't even need to speak the incantation."
"Non-verbal spells?" Professor Flitwick, who was sitting nearby, perked up. "That should be simple for you."
"It's not quite that," McGonagall explained. "It's not about consciously performing non-verbal spells—it's that I don't have to say anything at all. Just having the thought is enough for the magic to activate."
"Really?" Flitwick's eyes widened with curiosity.
As a dueling expert, he immediately understood the implications of what she was saying.
Being able to cast without any verbal incantation meant spell execution was nearly instantaneous. In a duel, that kind of speed would give a serious advantage—no time for the opponent to counter.
As for McGonagall's claim that it only worked for simpler spells… Flitwick chose to ignore that. Even a simple Banishing Charm, if cast with such fluidity, could suppress an opponent throughout a match.
"If I were to commission one, would that offend Mr. Ollivander?" Flitwick asked hesitantly, clearly tempted. He wasn't sure how Robert might feel about that.
His hesitation came mostly from his knowledge of Garrick Ollivander, who had been notoriously particular in his youth—making wands according to his own whims until eventually inheriting the Diagon Alley shop.
"That…" McGonagall faltered, unsure how to answer.
Would Robert be offended? She wasn't certain and didn't want to assume.
Her eyes drifted downward involuntarily, landing on the top of Flitwick's head.
It was common knowledge that Professor Flitwick had some Goblin ancestry, and Goblins generally didn't have much hair.
Maybe because of that, Flitwick's own hair was... sparse.
McGonagall wasn't sure if that would even meet the requirements for a wand core. Her own wand was nearly twelve inches long, after all.
Across the table, Dumbledore thoughtfully adjusted his glasses and happened to notice an unexpected figure peeking around the entrance to the Great Hall.
"Hagrid?" Dumbledore called, sounding surprised. He quickly moved to usher him in.
"I'm glad you didn't turn down my invitation to dinner this time. Christmas should be spent together," Dumbledore said warmly, pointing to an empty seat beside him and gesturing for Hagrid to sit.
That seat was usually Snape's, though he was notably absent tonight.
Hagrid looked uneasy. After all, he'd been expelled from Hogwarts by the Ministry of Magic long ago for failing to control a dangerous creature and had his wand snapped.
Only Dumbledore had believed in his innocence and offered him a job.
Since then, Hagrid had rarely come to the castle, let alone dined with the professors. He didn't want to make things difficult for Dumbledore.
This time, he'd only come to find Robert—dinner hadn't been part of the plan.
But Dumbledore was too insistent. Before Hagrid knew it, he was seated in Snape's usual place.
"Would you like something to eat? Turkey sandwiches? I must say, the house-elves roasted too many turkeys," Dumbledore joked.
Hagrid didn't object.
"You should come more often. The gamekeeper is just as much a part of Hogwarts as anyone else," Dumbledore said gently. "You're always welcome in the Great Hall."
Hagrid pretended not to hear.
It was the same old concern—he didn't want to draw attention or trouble Dumbledore.
He also didn't like crowds. Many wizards still held prejudice against Giants, and as a half-Giant, Hagrid was often met with wary or judgmental looks. Most of the students stared at him oddly, making him uncomfortable.
Robert and Harry, of course, were different.
Hagrid quietly finished his meal beside Dumbledore, awkwardly enduring the experience.
The moment his plate was cleared, he rose to leave. As he passed Robert, he discreetly shoved a brown paper bag into his arms.
"You left this at my place. Don't forget it next time," Hagrid muttered.
Robert didn't react at first. He looked up and saw Hagrid giving him a conspicuous wink.
Hagrid was never good at lying. His attempts to cover things up were painfully obvious, and even Harry, sitting nearby, sensed something was off.
But Hagrid didn't give anyone time to ask questions. After handing Robert the item, he strode out of the Great Hall.
Robert opened the bag reflexively and saw a familiar white object inside...
"What's that?" Ron leaned over, trying to see.
"Nothing," Robert replied quickly, closing the bag. "Just some rock cakes. I asked Hagrid for a few but forgot them earlier."
"Rock cakes…" Ron wrinkled his nose, clearly remembering something unpleasant. "Those things are like actual rocks—you can't even bite into them. You actually asked him for those?"
"Yeah. I recommend trying them. They're… unique," Robert replied distractedly.
"I think I'll pass," Ron said, covering his mouth and losing all interest in the mysterious package.
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