Dumbledore also seemed to notice the students' fatigue. As the last plate of orange pudding disappeared, he announced a few reminders with the utmost brevity, led everyone in a hurried rendition of the school song, and then declared the feast over.
Robert followed the crowd back to the familiar Gryffindor common room. He walked up to the second floor and stood before the door of his old dormitory, which now bore a new sign: "Second Year."
The dormitory hadn't changed, much to Robert's satisfaction. After all, he had taken apart and repaired the desks, chairs, and benches countless times over the past year, developing a certain fondness for them.
Entering the familiar circular room, he saw that his trunk had already been delivered and placed neatly beside the desk.
Robert had initially intended to write his grandfather a letter, as he usually did, but after taking out the parchment and ink, he changed his mind. Gregorovitch was probably deep in some forest by now. The distance was too great, and an owl might not be able to reach him. It was better to wait until his return.
Robert lay on the bed and quickly fell asleep.
The next day, the entire school remained in a joyful mood. Despite Lockhart's somewhat irritating performance at the start-of-term feast, most students were full of confidence in him.
For instance, Hermione completely disagreed with her friend Ron's negative opinion, insisting that Lockhart was indeed a capable wizard. Their argument escalated that morning in the common room, and the two were no longer speaking to each other.
Robert, for his part, firmly supported Hermione. Through her, he met more of Lockhart's admirers and even managed to sell his signed, first official copy of Magical Me, certified by Lockhart himself, for fifty Galleons to a seventh-year Ravenclaw witch.
Originally, Robert just wanted to show off the commemorative book. However, the girl was clearly a devoted fan and didn't hesitate to offer ten times its original price, demonstrating her sincerity. Robert saw no reason to refuse.
The transaction took some time, and to avoid being late, Robert skipped breakfast and rushed toward the greenhouse.
The first class for second-years was Herbology. Professor Sprout, a plump witch with a patched hat perched on her thick, curly hair, had a kind demeanor. When Robert arrived just as the bell stopped ringing, she didn't scold him, merely told him to find a spot quickly.
Panting heavily from his sprint, Robert joined Hermione, who couldn't help but whisper, "Couldn't you have given her the book during lunch?"
She had admired the book too but couldn't afford to spend fifty Galleons on something that originally cost five. Besides, Hermione wasn't one to spend that much on collectibles.
"The sooner the better with this kind of thing," Robert replied in a low voice, catching his breath. "If they attend a Defense Against the Dark Arts class first, it'll be hard to sell."
"What?"
"Nothing," Robert said, shaking his head. "What did Professor Sprout just ask?"
"She asked about the characteristics of Mandrakes," Hermione answered while simultaneously raising her hand high.
Robert tilted his head to avoid her elbow. It was impressive—Hermione could talk to him and still pay attention to the professor's question.
Fortunately, Mandrakes weren't unfamiliar to Robert. He touched the inside of his cuff, remembering he had used Mandrake juice while making a lizard-skin Transformation pouch. He bought it at the Diagon Alley apothecary. A tiny vial cost five Galleons, and just a few drops consumed a third of the bottle. It was even more expensive than dragon's blood, drop for drop.
"Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout.
Hermione had obviously answered correctly.
She was truly generous. In Transfiguration class, a correct answer earned three points; Charms class gave five; Potions usually didn't give any—and certainly deducted points often. But Professor Sprout awarded ten points at a time.
"Mandrakes are very dangerous. Who can tell me why?" she asked next.
Hermione's hand shot up again. "Hearing a Mandrake's cry is fatal."
"Absolutely correct. Another ten points."
Twenty points already! Hermione had added twenty points to Gryffindor within the span of one class. For comparison, Harry got fifty points for defeating Voldemort.
Hufflepuff really was impressive. The students were kind, and their Head of House was even kinder.
Later, Robert also added ten points to Gryffindor. He was the first student to finish repotting the Mandrake.
Robert felt a bit awkward. When he pulled it from the pot, he couldn't help calculating how much juice could be extracted. He gave it a small pinch to test the texture—and accidentally broke off one of its tendrils.
Robert hadn't meant to hurt it, but the Mandrake apparently took it personally. While the other students' Mandrakes flailed wildly, resisting transfer, his simply burrowed into its new pot without fuss.
And so, Robert finished before anyone else.
After class, the Gryffindor students were overjoyed.
"Thirty points in one class! At this rate, the House Cup is as good as ours!" Ron said excitedly, grinning ear to ear.
"Don't forget about Snape," Harry sighed. "He can deduct points faster than we can earn them."
Ron's smile froze instantly. Right—how could he forget Snape? The points they'd just earned in Herbology could be gone in the blink of an eye during the next Potions class.
A truly tragic reality.
Thankfully, they didn't have that dreaded Potions class today.
Covered in dirt, the Gryffindor students trudged back to the castle. Some hurried off for showers; others simply used a Scouring Charm before heading to Transfiguration class.
Robert paid extra attention in this class. He sat up straight, holding his quill with determination, and took meticulous notes on every word Professor McGonagall spoke. This shocked both Harry and Ron.
"Is that really Robert?" Ron nudged Harry. "I feel like I'm seeing two Hermiones."
"Funny, so do I," Harry said, taking off his glasses and rubbing them.
Usually, Robert was well-behaved, never causing trouble, but he was far from studious. He often sat in a corner during class, scribbling incomprehensible symbols when the professor wasn't looking.
Now, here he was—focused, note-taking, even asking questions after class.
The sky must be falling.
Ron was a little shaken. He didn't mind Hermione always being first; he was used to it. But if Robert joined the race, that was a different story entirely.
Professor McGonagall was also surprised.
"Mr. Ollivander, I admire your ambition," she said, eyeing the button in his hand, "but I suggest you proceed gradually."
The button didn't contain beetle legs, but its pattern closely resembled a beetle's.
"I must warn you seriously—Animagus Transformation is not child's play," she said firmly. "It's extremely dangerous. Many wizards have permanently retained animal features due to failed transformations—tails, animal pupils. Some have never been able to return to human form."
"I completely understand the risks, Professor McGonagall," Robert said sincerely. "And I don't expect to master this transformation in just a few days. I simply want to prepare early... Maybe you could recommend some relevant books?"
Professor McGonagall studied him for a long moment. "Why? Why are you interested in learning Animagus Transformation? It's not a skill commonly used in everyday life."
"Because I want to become an exceptional wandmaker," Robert replied. "In the future, I'll probably need to travel to many different forests. Being able to turn into an animal at will would be incredibly useful."
Professor McGonagall paused. She suddenly recalled Robert's grandfather.
Only seven wizards had registered as Animagi in the 20th century, and Garrick Ollivander had been one of them—listed even before her own name. She remembered his Animagus form: a white-fronted capuchin, ideally suited for forest navigation.
Understanding began to dawn. Wandmakers often worked around forests and magical creatures. For them, Animagus Transformation would indeed be beneficial.
Still, she felt Robert was too young.
Garrick had registered in 1930—nearly 30 years old at the time. Robert was only 12. He didn't need to worry about such things yet.
"Alright," McGonagall finally said. "I can recommend some books. But you must promise not to attempt the transformation on your own."
"Of course, no problem," Robert nodded quickly.
"I'll give you the list this afternoon," she said, then emphasized, "Do not try this alone. When the time is right, I will help guide you through it."
Professor McGonagall left the classroom, her emotions mixed. Two sneaky figures darted past the doorway.
"Weasley? Potter?" she noted their retreating backs but let it go.
She had intended to return to her office but changed her mind and exited the castle from the first floor.
McGonagall found Professor Sprout in the greenhouse, turning soil, and quietly instructed her to closely monitor the Mandrakes—especially to prevent any students from secretly picking the leaves.
That's because holding a fresh Mandrake leaf in your mouth for a month was the first step in Animagus Transformation.
Although Robert had promised not to attempt it alone, McGonagall wasn't reassured. No one knew better than she how fragile a Gryffindor student's promise could be.
So she took precautions.
Fresh Mandrake leaves were hard to preserve; most on the market were dried or powdered. If Robert had any dangerous plans, the school's greenhouse would be his only option.
Having taken these steps, McGonagall finally felt a little relieved.
For the first time, she felt that overly diligent students weren't always a good thing. Being like Granger was quite good—just studious enough.
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