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Robert didn't expect that Hagrid had also prepared something for him.
The bag Hagrid handed over was filled with various magical creature materials he had recently collected—hair, scales, feathers, and even some unknown bones. There was quite a large quantity, and the bag was heavy to hold.
Meanwhile, Robert took out his own gift—an oak stick over two feet long.
As soon as it was pulled from the transforming lizard-skin pouch, it dropped to the floor with a thud, leaving a small dent in the stone.
"This is..." Hagrid began, thinking at first that it was a beater's bat used by a Quidditch player, but the weight was off. He had never seen a bat that could dent the floor.
"A wand," Robert said, flexing his wrist slightly. "You've seen the core—it's that complete Troll spine."
"A Troll... Merlin's beard, you actually made that thing into a wand?" Hagrid looked at Robert in astonishment, stepping forward involuntarily.
Hagrid remembered that Robert had once mentioned turning that spine into a wand core, but he hadn't believed it would actually work.
That bone had been nearly three feet long. How could it function like a standard wand core—like Unicorn tail hair?
But now Robert claimed it had been made into a wand?
Hagrid leaned in to examine the thick stick carefully.
Though the length was about right, he still found it hard to believe.
"Is this really a wand?" Hagrid asked, eyebrows raised.
"It's the real deal," Robert confirmed. "But it's a bit different from traditional wands. This one can only cast the Shield Charm—but it has its advantages."
Robert's explanation lasted less than a minute—it was, in truth, only one sentence.
As long as you use magic, it casts a Shield Charm on you. But it can only cast that one spell.
This strange wand left Hagrid stunned. It was the first time he had ever heard of a wand restricted to one spell, yet the appeal of casting without an incantation or gesture was intriguing.
"This is my gift," Robert continued. "I was planning to give it to you for Christmas, but I figured an owl probably couldn't carry something this heavy."
"Ah? No—I can't accept this," Hagrid quickly said, shaking his head. "You know I already have a wand."
He glanced instinctively toward the corner cabinet. The wand Robert had helped him repair last year rested there—far more usable than before.
"That one's fine for daily use," Robert said, "but this one is made for combat." He met Hagrid's eyes. "When you fought Death Eaters more than a decade ago, you didn't use a wand, did you?"
"That's true... wait—how do you know that?" Hagrid was momentarily stunned.
Back then, Lord Voldemort hadn't been defeated yet, and Robert was probably just a few months old.
"Headmaster Dumbledore told me."
Oh. In that case, it made sense. Hagrid hadn't used a wand during those battles.
It had been too complicated—finding the enemy, aiming, chanting, flicking his wrist. He always got flustered and messed it up.
So he had simply charged through their spells and flattened them with his fists.
"You're a wizard, Hagrid—not a true giant," Robert said, hoisting the Troll wand onto his shoulder. "Magic is your greatest advantage. Why not use it?"
"The Shield Charm can further strengthen your body, and the wand is heavy enough to be used as a physical weapon too. Honestly, it's one of the most suitable wands for you."
"Still no," Hagrid insisted, shaking his head again. "It's too valuable. A Troll spine like that, untreated, is thirty Galleons just in Knockturn Alley."
"But you gave me that spine in the first place," Robert reminded him, adjusting his stance. "...Quick, help me hold it. This wand is really heavy."
"Ah, okay." Hagrid casually took the wand from Robert's shoulder, lifting it as effortlessly as if it were a quill.
"How does it feel?" Robert asked.
"Not bad," Hagrid admitted, surprised.
It didn't look large, but the weight reminded him of his six-foot-long crossbow. A bit light as a weapon, but still manageable.
He gave it a swing. The wand whistled sharply as it cut through the air—like a Troll's roar.
"This wand really suits you," Robert said, satisfied. "Most people wouldn't even be able to lift it, let alone swing it like you just did."
"Try using the Engorgement Charm," Robert encouraged. "You definitely know that one. Normal pumpkins don't grow to the size of a carriage on their own."
A spell surfaced in Hagrid's mind. He hadn't even spoken it yet when a bluish-gray light flashed at the wand's tip, then darted to the wand's base, and finally sank into his palm.
"Buzz..."
A faint, shimmering bluish-gray layer appeared in front of Hagrid.
"This is..."
"The Shield Charm," Robert confirmed. It was the first time he'd seen it appear so visibly—Hagrid's body was practically glowing.
Feeling the magical shield surround him, Hagrid was stunned. Had Robert cast the spell? No, the wand had responded to his intent.
No incantation, no gesture... and yet, the charm worked.
Hagrid's eyes flickered with temptation.
Though it could only perform a single spell, that was enough. Before now, he'd always fought using brute strength alone.
"It seems it's chosen you," Robert said with a smile, recalling how fast the Shield Charm had activated. "If you ever feel its offensive power is lacking, you can try turning it into an axe—or another weapon—so long as you don't damage the wand body."
At those words, Hagrid, who had just been preparing to refuse again, froze.
"Turn it into another weapon... what do you mean?"
"I mean exactly that," Robert replied. "Watch."
He pointed his wand at a tea towel on the table. It shimmered and transformed into a cold, gleaming axe blade, which he levitated onto the Troll wand.
In an instant, the wand transformed into a proper axe—shorter than the ones wielded by the castle's stone statues, but similar in shape.
"That's the idea," Robert said. "To match the Troll spine, I deliberately thickened the oak wand body. That reduces flexibility and concealment, but it significantly improves durability—perfect for an axe handle."
"Professor Dumbledore probably has a way to properly affix the blade without damaging the wand. Of course, if you prefer other weapons, that's fine too."
"Goodbye, Hagrid. I'll come see you again when I have time."
By the time Hagrid had finished processing that incredible suggestion, Robert had already made his way back to the castle for lunch.
Robert had long wanted to give the Troll wand to Hagrid. Though the wand was strong enough to survive explosions during the forging of dragon blood wood wands, it had made Robert too reliant on it.
He suspected that his high failure rate with those dangerous materials was partly due to not needing to worry about the explosions anymore.
After all, if there was no danger to fear, how seriously could he take each attempt?
Giving the wand to Hagrid had both advantages and drawbacks.
In the afternoon, Harry returned—with news about Dobby the house-elf.
"So all of this was done by the Malfoy family's house-elf?" Ron's voice rose sharply, as if he'd heard the punchline to a bizarre joke.
"It sealed off the platform to stop you from boarding the train, and then it guided a Bludger to hit your head—all supposedly to save you?"
"That's what he said..." Harry admitted.
"You believe him?"
Harry didn't reply. He couldn't make sense of it either, but something deep down told him Dobby wasn't lying.
Ron saw Harry's silence and understood.
"That's a Malfoy house-elf," he reminded him. "Maybe this is part of one of their schemes. Don't forget—that Bludger nearly crushed your skull. Is that really saving you?"
"Dobby said it was an accident. He just wanted to break my arm," Harry replied quietly, clearly unsure. "When he was telling me this, he kept slamming his head into the wall. He didn't seem like he was lying."
"This is classic Malfoy," Ron said, curling his lip.
Harry's belief wavered again.
He wanted to believe Dobby, but as soon as he remembered that Dobby served the Malfoys, that trust quickly crumbled.
"Wait—how do you know he's the Malfoys' house-elf?" Ron asked.
"I saw him," Harry said. "When Malfoy's father came to the Hospital Wing, Dobby was with him. They thought I was asleep—but I wasn't."
"Then, that night, Dobby visited me again. I recognized that filthy tea towel he wears right away."
Harry frowned. "But Ron... what is a house-elf? Like a gnome?"
"Of course not," Ron replied. "A house-elf is a wizarding family's best helper. They can do loads of chores. My mum's always wanted one."
"Gnomes are completely useless. They just steal your potatoes and cabbages."
Like servants?
Harry nodded, half understanding.
Just then, Robert and Hermione returned from the Hogwarts Library.
Seeing Robert, Harry remembered something else Dobby had said...
"At Hogwarts, terrible things are about to happen. Perhaps they already have. History is about to repeat itself... the Chamber of Secrets has been opened once again."
What did "history repeating itself" mean? And the Chamber of Secrets?
Were the terrible things Dobby mentioned related to Robert being attacked?
That had been the only major incident recently.
But Robert seemed fine now—he went to class, studied in the library, and showed no signs of trauma.
None of the professors had said anything either, apart from Lockhart's usual bragging.
Harry had too many questions.
Unfortunately, every time Dobby started to speak, he'd slam his head into something halfway through—leaving Harry with more confusion than answers.
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