Everyone decided to return to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink, and Robert accompanied them, though he remained distracted the entire way.
"Hey, Robert, what are you thinking about?"
Robert felt someone yank his arm firmly, and he snapped out of his thoughts. Only then did he realize they had already arrived at the Leaky Cauldron. He had been so preoccupied that he continued walking forward—if Fred hadn't grabbed his arm, he might have walked straight into the door.
"Thank you," Robert said.
"You're welcome." Fred looked at him curiously and asked, "But what were you thinking about just now? You didn't respond at all when we were talking."
"Just... thinking about something," Robert replied vaguely. His gaze shifted to Ginny, who was covertly glancing at Harry. After a moment's hesitation, he stepped forward and asked, "Ginny, when we were at Flourish and Blotts earlier, did you happen to see a diary with a black cover?"
"Did you lose your diary, son?" Mr. Weasley, who had been walking ahead, turned back and asked. "Did you drop it at Flourish and Blotts? We can go back and help you look for it."
"No, I'm not sure," Robert replied evasively, still keeping his eyes on Ginny.
The young witch furrowed her brow and thought for a moment. Then she shook her head and said, "I didn't see anything like that. But if it says 'Your Diary' on it, I'd be happy to help you search for it."
Her expression was serious and sincere—she didn't seem to be lying.
"Ah, no need," Robert said, shaking his head. "It's just an empty notebook. It doesn't really matter if it's lost."
"If you don't mind, we could get you a new one." A man in a neat suit stepped forward—it was Hermione's father.
Although Mr. Granger knew little about the wizarding world or the intricacies of magical society, he had noticed that this young wizard had stood up for them earlier. By all accounts, they should offer him some form of thanks.
A diary seemed like a suitable topic, but he wasn't sure whether a young wizard like this one would even use a Muggle—yes, that was the word—diary.
"Thank you," Robert said again, barely paying attention to the offer. He nodded absentmindedly.
"Sorry, I've got something I need to take care of. I'll head back first."
Without waiting for a response, Robert turned and walked away from the group, heading back toward Diagon Alley.
He didn't go anywhere else but returned straight to Flourish and Blotts.
At this point, the chaos from earlier had largely settled. The shop assistants were tidying up the mess and returning the scene to its usual order.
Robert joined in under the pretense of helping out while secretly scanning every inch of the floor. But even after all the books were back on the shelves, he still hadn't found any trace of the diary.
He had thoroughly checked the shelves, counters, and even the tiniest gaps—but nothing.
How could this be?
Standing in the middle of the street, Robert frowned deeply. Things weren't going according to his expectations.
He had intentionally provoked Lucius Malfoy—not just because he loathed Malfoy's pure-blood supremacist views, but because he had another goal: to provoke Lucius into handing him the diary directly.
He had even picked up a book to carry, hoping to mimic the classic move.
But Lucius had hesitated after hearing Robert's surname and backed off.
Perhaps he was afraid that Robert might expose the truth: that the Malfoys were originally from a Muggle background.
Only then did Robert realize he probably shouldn't have revealed his last name so easily.
Back in the eleventh century, a young wizard named Armand Malfoy, hailing from a humble background, disguised himself as a common knight and crossed the sea with William the Conqueror. Using his magical powers to help suppress Muggle rebellions, Armand earned privileges that laid the foundation for the Malfoy family's future status and wealth.
Interesting, isn't it?
The Malfoys—so proud of their pure-blood heritage—had roots in Muggle society. Everything they now possessed came from a Muggle monarch's rewards.
Few in the wizarding world were aware of this now, due to how distant the era was—but Ollivander certainly knew.
Lucius knew too. Although Robert, being so young, might not be taken seriously if he tried to expose this truth, it could still shake the Malfoys' image.
But Lucius, ever cautious, clearly didn't want to take any risks—so he chose to retreat.
"I should have said my name was Robert Weasley," Robert muttered, scratching his head.
If Lucius had heard the name "Weasley" at that moment, he might have angrily shoved the diary into Robert's hands right then and there.
That would've been ideal—even if Draco later exposed his identity, it wouldn't have mattered. The important thing was getting the diary.
But because Lucius backed off, the plan had failed—and now the diary, which was supposed to end up with Ginny, had gone missing.
After leaving Flourish and Blotts, Robert went to Knockturn Alley, hoping to find clues. But old Mr. Borgin knew nothing about any diary.
He only said that Lucius had sold him some dark artifacts—and even kindly provided a full list.
Robert examined it three times. There wasn't a single item related to a diary.
After wandering in circles all day, Robert finally returned to the wand shop in the evening.
The twilight sky was dim and heavy, matching Robert's somber mood.
He didn't know if someone had picked up the diary during the chaos, or if Malfoy had never intended to bring it out.
Robert brooded over it for several days.
During this time, he didn't even feel like selling stickers. Every morning, he left the shop to his grandfather and ran back to Flourish and Blotts.
After several days of this, the shop owner became a little flustered. She had thought Robert came every day to help tidy up out of guilt over the altercation.
But in her view, Robert hadn't done anything wrong. He had only spoken a few words—Lucius Malfoy had been the one who suddenly lost control.
And yet, Robert kept coming back, while Malfoy hadn't even sent an apology.
No wonder Ollivander's family was regarded as the oldest and most dignified wizarding family—this kind of decency and grace was something those who constantly bragged about blood purity could never match.
So each time Robert showed up to help, she gave him a small gift in return.
Since it was a bookstore, she gave him books.
"Modern History of Magic," "Practical Spell Explanations," and the "Standard Book of Spells" series for Years Three, Four, and Five.
These were all useful and popular texts. The Standard Book of Spells was required reading at Hogwarts, so she was essentially saving him the trouble—and the cost—of buying them in the future.
Just as she was about to give him the Grade Six volume, however, Robert didn't come that day.
He had stopped searching.
After all, with Harry around, he wouldn't miss his chance to encounter Voldemort's soul fragment again. Why be so fixated on the diary?
Instead, Robert turned his thoughts elsewhere—like figuring out what to do with the dried transforming lizard he had obtained from the Death Eater.
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