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Robert stood there, bewildered, not quite understanding what was happening.
Dumbledore wasn't using the Elder Wand, and strictly speaking, it couldn't even be considered a normal wand.
"Mr. Ollivander, what's wrong?"
Dumbledore's voice snapped Robert back to his senses.
"Sorry…" Robert muttered. He glanced again at Dumbledore and couldn't help but ask, "Professor, your wand…"
"Ah, I knew you'd be able to tell."
Dumbledore replied without turning his head, "Yes, it's broken. Nearly snapped in half during a battle."
Dumbledore stepped through the flames, and just as Robert was about to follow as before, the flames that had parted sealed shut again.
"It seems my magic is a bit rusty. I'm very sorry, Mr. Ollivander. Could I trouble you to wait here for a while?"
With that, Dumbledore pushed open the door behind the flames.
Robert twitched the corner of his mouth…
If Dumbledore didn't want him to see the final confrontation, he could've just said so. Rusty magic? Treating him like some gullible goblin?
It was just Voldemort—so what? The real reason Robert had insisted on following was the promise he made earlier—the possibility of letting the Unicorn get its revenge.
He had discussed it with the creature beforehand.
Originally, he had hoped Harry would serve as the conduit for that revenge, but things didn't go as planned—Fluffy had gone berserk mid-way and ruined everything.
Now Dumbledore wasn't even giving him the chance to watch.
"No choice. I did my best."
Robert whispered to the wand, Silver Mane, in his hand, "Let's wait a little longer. There'll be other chances."
Silver Mane gave no response, which Robert took as agreement.
Though he'd been locked outside, when Dumbledore opened the door earlier, Robert had caught a fleeting glimpse of the room beyond.
Harry seemed to be unconscious, still clutching Quirrell's arm tightly...
At least, Robert assumed it was Quirrell—he really couldn't reconcile the grotesque creature before him, with two faces, one arm, and half a body turned to stone, with the timid Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.
Quirrell was screaming, his face twisted in agony, as though enduring unspeakable pain.
The next moment, his body withered rapidly, disintegrating like sand under a scorching sun, dissolving into a drifting pile of ash.
Then, the door closed completely. Not a sound escaped.
Bored, Robert wandered around the narrow chamber. He picked up a small vial from the floor and gave it a shake.
This must've been the potion that allowed passage through the black flames.
He shook it again... Tsk. Harry had finished every drop. No chance of sneaking in.
With nothing else to do, Robert walked over to the long table and examined the five potion bottles still placed on it.
There had originally been seven. The potion to cross the black flames had been drunk by Harry, and Hermione had taken the one for returning through the purple flames, leaving only five behind.
Robert examined the gaps where bottles had once been and the clues etched next to them. From this, he reconstructed the original positions and quickly deduced the contents of each bottle.
The second bottle from the left and the second from the right were Nettle Wine—cheap and common—so he ignored them.
He decided to take the remaining potions.
He wasn't leaving empty-handed. These were poisons brewed by Snape himself. They might come in handy one day.
The only question—were they really poisons?
Snape and Dumbledore were allies. He must've known Harry would come here.
If Harry had gotten the puzzle wrong and picked the wrong bottle…
Snape might punish him with detention or dock house points, sure—but he would never kill Harry.
Perhaps all five remaining bottles were actually just more Nettle Wine, with three made to appear as poisons.
Even so, Robert took them anyway. Whether real or not, potions made by Snape and packaged like poison could fetch a high price in Knockturn Alley.
As he began stuffing the bottles into his robe pockets, the wand in his hand began to tremble violently. At the same time, a chill swept through the room.
Robert's head jerked up. A jagged rift tore through the black flames without warning, and shadowy mist surged forth like a tide.
Even more disturbing was the terrifying face visible within the mist, cursing both Dumbledore and Harry Potter as it passed.
The wand trembled even harder.
The Unicorn was urging him.
Alright then—he hadn't had the chance before, but now that one had come, he wouldn't break his promise.
"But whether it works or not is up to you!"
With a sudden movement, he raised his wand and aimed it at the onrushing mist.
"Silver Mane Starfall!"
Before the words had even left his mouth, a blue light burst from the wand's tip. A misty Unicorn leapt forward, its horn glowing with an icy radiance, charging straight into the black mist.
"Ah! Ah! Ah!"
Robert was startled—Voldemort, even in spectral form, could still scream so horribly. He never would've guessed that the Unicorn's soul could inflict real damage on Voldemort's spirit.
But the screams were undeniable proof.
"Who, are, you!"
Voldemort's voice was full of hatred and shock as he roared toward Robert.
Robert's response? He turned his head away, keeping his face hidden.
What, was he insane? That was Voldemort. He wasn't about to invite the wrath of a dark lord by making himself memorable.
It might not work, sure—but what if it did? Dumbledore was nearby, and Voldemort wouldn't linger long with such a threat so close.
Also, with Voldemort's arrogance, he might not even have noticed Robert standing quietly in the background until now.
As it turned out, Robert was right.
Voldemort burned with the desire to cast a dozen Killing Curses on him, but he couldn't afford to waste time or energy confirming his identity.
Besides Dumbledore's looming presence, the Unicorn's relentless pursuit gave him no chance to retaliate.
The misty creature turned and charged again, its horn glowing ever brighter.
Faced with the combined pressure, Voldemort could do nothing—he had no choice but to flee.
He didn't even look back, rushing toward the exit like a shadow dissolving into the wind.
The Unicorn gave chase briefly but Voldemort escaped faster this time, vanishing in the blink of an eye.
Left without a target, the Unicorn returned reluctantly.
Robert noticed something dangling from the horn—gray and cloudlike, emanating a familiar cold energy.
Hmm?
But before he could examine it closely, Dumbledore emerged, clearly relieved to find Robert unharmed.
"Professor…" Robert began, "Something I couldn't identify just escaped."
"Thank you for the warning, Mr. Ollivander. The important thing is that you're safe."
Dumbledore replied, "Could you help me get Mr. Potter to the hospital wing? I'm afraid I still have pressing matters to attend to."
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