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Dumbledore's voice remained gentle and calm as always, but for a brief moment, Robert suddenly became nervous. He could clearly hear the rapid beating of his own heart.
It felt as though he was being watched—by something unfriendly.
The sensation appeared out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly, leaving Robert to wonder if it had only been his imagination.
But was it really just an illusion?
Robert looked up at Dumbledore. The Headmaster looked unchanged, still composed, but when he noticed Robert's gaze, he subtly extended a hand from beneath his robe and pointed in the direction behind the door.
Robert followed his gesture and immediately locked eyes with a vigilant pair of eyes.
Now he understood what had been staring at him.
It was Dumbledore's Phoenix—Fawkes. For some reason, the large crimson bird had its feathers ruffled and radiated a strong sense of wariness toward Robert.
"Headmaster, your Phoenix doesn't seem too fond of me, but I don't believe we've met before."
He genuinely hadn't seen Fawkes before. Normally, a Phoenix wouldn't act hostile toward a stranger.
Could it be that Garrick Ollivander had forcefully plucked some of its feathers for wand-making?
That might be it!
"I have to clarify," Robert said, still looking at the Phoenix, "my relationship with my grandfather is… just average. If there's any bad blood, please resolve it with him."
Robert's tone was sincere, but Fawkes remained unyielding in its stance.
"It has nothing to do with your grandfather," Dumbledore replied. "The Phoenix feather wands Garrick makes are all crafted from feathers freely given by Fawkes."
"Then what could be the reason?" Robert scratched his head.
"To be honest, this is the first time I've seen Fawkes act this way," Dumbledore said thoughtfully, eyeing the wand resting nearby. "It might be because of that."
"The wand?"
"Yes," Dumbledore confirmed. "Garrick uses tail feathers to craft wands. But you—you used an entire spine. Fawkes may simply be warning you not to get any ideas about using its body for something similar."
"A Phoenix spine…" Robert smacked his lips but remained silent.
That little gesture made Dumbledore's eye twitch.
What did that lip smack mean?
Did Robert really have such an idea?
Truthfully, Dumbledore guessed right.
Robert had, for the briefest second, entertained such an impractical thought—but it was just that: a passing thought.
Because it was impossible. Phoenixes weren't like trolls. They could Apparate infinitely. If they didn't want to be found, you'd never see one again. And then there was the rebirth in flame. Phoenixes didn't just die—they resurrected.
Thinking of that, Robert quickly said, earnestly, "I've never even considered that, Professor."
Dumbledore blinked slowly, watching Robert with interest. If he hadn't seen Robert's initial reaction, he might have believed him.
Still, he didn't mind.
Many people had ideas about Phoenixes. Potioneers, Healers, Dark wizards—even Alchemists like Nicolas Flamel. Having such thoughts was human nature. But there was a difference between thinking and acting.
Fawkes didn't like Nicolas Flamel much either.
That said, Dumbledore noticed that after Robert's honest declaration, Fawkes's alertness diminished significantly. Its feathers lay flat once more.
Phoenixes didn't possess the talent for Legilimency, but they could sense emotional changes in wizards. In other words, Robert wasn't lying—he had been sincere.
"Is this really a wand?" Dumbledore asked, steering the topic back on course.
"Of course," Robert replied. "I guarantee it—in the name of Ollivander."
"May I try it?" Dumbledore asked, a flicker of excitement in his eyes.
He was truly curious. Could a wand of such an unconventional shape really cast spells properly?
"I think… probably not," Robert said. "This wand only casts one spell. Also, it's too long. Every time you use it, it backfires."
"Backfires?" Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "Do you mean that any spell cast using it ends up rebounding on the user?"
"…Yes," Robert nodded.
A strange silence fell across the Headmaster's office. Both Dumbledore and Fawkes stared at Robert.
Neither spoke, but their expressions alone could fill a two-foot essay.
An Ollivander made a wand that could only attack its wielder?
That was… something.
Perhaps they could sell such wands to Dark wizards and Death Eaters, and finally bring peace to the wizarding world.
Well, no. Dumbledore couldn't even joke about that.
He found himself scrambling to think of something appropriate to say—something wise, something that would preserve Robert's self-esteem and Dumbledore's own dignity as Headmaster.
But half a minute passed, and he still had nothing. His vast educational background, usually so reliable, seemed utterly useless in this moment.
Fortunately, Robert didn't notice the turmoil in Dumbledore's expression. Seeing that the Headmaster wasn't speaking, he added, "I plan to give it to Hagrid."
"You don't like Hagrid?" Dumbledore asked involuntarily.
"No," Robert shook his head. "We're actually good friends. He even gave me a really valuable Christmas present."
"Then why…" Dumbledore stopped himself. He thought better of saying, "Why are you repaying kindness with enmity?"
Instead, he nodded stiffly. "Perhaps only Hagrid can truly make use of such a wand."
He was referring, of course, to its weight and hardness…
But to be fair, Robert hadn't mentioned the wand's most important trait—its [Iron Armor] property. Without that detail, the wand seemed mediocre and even useless.
Robert, noticing the change in Dumbledore's tone, thought for a moment and added, "Actually, this wand does have its strengths. I've made wands with Troll cores before, and judging by that, this one should be ideal for defensive spells—like the Iron Armor Charm."
Dumbledore's blue eyes sparkled.
"No wonder. That's quite a thoughtful gift," he said. "So, have you confirmed the Iron Armor Spell is the most compatible?"
"Not yet," Robert replied. "I still want to see if there's a better match. And I'm not sure if Hagrid would like it. He seems very attached to his old wand."
"Wand? You mean the umbrella?" Dumbledore said with a sly smile.
"Ah—yes, he does treasure that umbrella," Robert quickly corrected himself.
He almost forgot. Hagrid wasn't officially allowed to use a wand. Dumbledore was always cautious—ever the wise Headmaster.
"Oh, it's nearly lunchtime," Dumbledore said, clearly looking to end the conversation. He waved his hand and returned the wand to Robert. "I only gave you the morning off. Don't be late this afternoon."
"Mm, okay."
Robert left the Headmaster's office with the wand in hand. He glanced back at the now-still gargoyle that guarded the office door.
He had been nervous about meeting Dumbledore.
After all, he had caused quite a few disturbances lately—late-night noise, dormitory damage, experimenting with dangerous wands. No doubt he had broken several school rules.
He had expected Dumbledore to come down hard on him, but that wasn't the case at all.
There were no deductions, no detentions. Dumbledore had seemed more intrigued by the wand than upset about the trouble it caused.
Dumbledore… interested in a wand?
Robert couldn't quite figure it out.
But then again—no punishment was a blessing. No need to overthink it.
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