Robert followed behind Dumbledore as they walked through the castle grounds, now veiled in deep night, neither of them speaking a word.
Hagrid hadn't come with them; he believed that with Dumbledore back, there was nothing left to worry about. The person attempting to steal the Philosopher's Stone would surely be handled soon enough. Fluffy needed him more. The poor creature must be in great pain. Hagrid's heart clenched over and over again, and tears welled up in his eyes.
It was all that thief's fault—that shameless, despicable person. Once Professor Dumbledore caught him, he'd surely give him a proper scolding.
While Hagrid tended to Fluffy, Dumbledore and Robert stepped into the castle and stopped in the Entrance Hall.
The castle was in chaos, devastated by Fluffy's rampage. Twisted staircases hung in the air, barely holding together. Broken marble banisters littered the floor. Portraits shrieked in panic, retreating frantically to safer frames.
The noise summoned the professors. Professor McGonagall was the first to arrive.
"I know everything, Minerva," Dumbledore said before she could speak. "Are any students hurt?"
"Thankfully, no. I was immensely relieved to hear that," McGonagall replied, though her tone was far from pleased. "But I've said it before—keeping Fluffy in the castle was a disaster waiting to happen. We were lucky no students were harmed."
"There was one," Dumbledore said calmly.
"What?" McGonagall's face tensed, her voice shaking. "Who is it? Are they alright?"
"They should be fine. You can ask him yourself." Dumbledore stepped slightly to the side.
Only then did McGonagall notice Robert standing behind him.
"Ollivander? You... how could you?" Her expression darkened. "Why aren't you in your dormitory? It's the middle of the night!"
"I didn't sneak out this time. Madam Pomfrey can confirm!" Robert blurted. He looked at Dumbledore, who seemed in no rush, and decided to explain everything.
"I went to visit Fred and George. But when I came back, I heard a commotion on the Fourth Floor…"
Robert recounted the incident.
Both McGonagall and Dumbledore listened attentively.
"Thank you, Mr. Ollivander," Dumbledore said solemnly. "You led Fluffy out of the castle and worked with Hagrid to subdue him. You helped prevent a greater disaster."
"But it was still reckless," McGonagall scolded. "He's only a first-year. Facing a large beast like that, you should've used the terrain to your advantage and waited for help, not run into the open."
"At that moment, I happened to see Hagrid," Robert said quietly.
McGonagall relaxed a little but quickly grew serious again.
"You said someone entered the Fourth Floor room? Who?"
"I don't know," Robert shook his head. "I didn't see who it was."
"Professor McGonagall! Headmaster Dumbledore!"
A shout echoed from nearby, and two more students ran toward them.
"Granger? Weasley?" McGonagall nearly choked in disbelief.
Two more Gryffindors?
"Headmaster, Harry... he..." Ron gasped, pointing upstairs.
"He stayed to keep watch, didn't he?" Dumbledore asked calmly.
The two nodded vigorously.
Without hesitation, Dumbledore turned and raced toward the Fourth Floor. Robert followed closely behind.
McGonagall was too busy interrogating the other two students to notice Robert's quiet action, allowing him to tag along unnoticed.
By the time they arrived, most of the damage Fluffy had caused—broken stairs, shattered banisters—had been partially repaired. But the door ahead remained smashed to the ground.
Professor Flitwick stood at the trapdoor, ready to descend.
"Leave it to us, Filius," Dumbledore said.
Flitwick hesitated for a moment, disappointment flickering in his eyes, but nodded and returned to repairing the surroundings.
"Shall we?" Dumbledore gestured for Robert to go first.
Without hesitation, Robert leapt into the trapdoor.
The descent was long. Cold, damp air rushed past him. Gradually, the fall slowed. A soft force seemed to cradle him until he landed gently, as if settling on feathers.
Beside him writhed a massive vine-like plant. Its thick tendrils squirmed like a mass of sluggish octopuses.
Oddly enough, Robert hadn't felt its grasp—he'd slipped through the center without resistance.
"Devil's Snare," Dumbledore said, appearing beside him. "I'm sure you could've handled this little challenge, but we're short on time."
He moved briskly ahead.
The next chamber was filled with birds—bright, shimmering like gemstones—fluttering in a blur of color. Each one was a key, but only one opened the door on the far side.
Dumbledore didn't stop to look. He walked straight across, produced a large key, and opened the door.
"Filius gave it to me," he said with a smile. "Come along."
Next was the giant wizard chess board. But the pieces hadn't fully recovered from earlier damage.
"Lucky for us. I've never been much good at wizard chess," Dumbledore muttered, striding quickly across.
They passed into another chamber—this time, Robert expected the troll from stories. But instead, several Red Caps lay scattered on the ground, unconscious or worse, unmoving.
Dumbledore didn't comment. He simply continued onward.
He pulled open the next door. As soon as they stepped through, purple flames roared up behind them. Simultaneously, black flames surged from the doorway ahead.
"This is Snape's riddle, right?" Robert asked, eyeing the table with potion bottles. "Do we need to solve it?"
"That's the standard procedure," Dumbledore acknowledged. "But as I said, we're in a hurry."
He raised a wand—its wood worn and marked by use—and with a smooth motion, the black flames split, clearing a safe path.
Robert didn't stare at the flames. Instead, his gaze locked on Dumbledore's hand, and more specifically, the wand in it.
[Laurel wood, dragon heartstring, thirteen and a quarter inches]
[Status: Broken, Stagnant]
[Properties: Spell distance -10%; Magic condensation speed -10%; Fire magic effect +3%]
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