As soon as Robert arrived, an instinctive sense of danger surged through him, forcing him to stop in his tracks. His sharp gaze fixed on the enormous, ancient willow tree standing silently before him.
This was the place.
Ever since entering the Old Forest, the surrounding trees had repeatedly attacked him, driving him inexorably toward this location. At first, Robert had believed it to be coincidence. Now, he understood the truth.
The willow tree before him was no ordinary plant. It was a Huorn—a close kin to the Ents, yet far more dangerous. Unlike Ents, Huorns were closer to true trees, possessing intelligence but lacking patience or mercy. They were notoriously aggressive, especially toward humans.
And this one was no exception.
In fact, Robert could clearly feel that this particular Huorn was ancient—far older and more powerful than the others he had encountered. It was likely the dominant Huorn of the Old Forest, radiating deep malice that seeped into the very air around it.
Unbeknownst to Robert, a faint sound drifted through the forest.
It was soft at first, like the whisper of the wind brushing against leaves. Gradually, it became clearer—a soothing, melodious tune, gentle and warm, like a lullaby sung by a loving mother.
The sound wrapped around Robert's senses.
His eyelids grew heavy.
A wave of drowsiness washed over him, and his thoughts slowed as if submerged in deep water. His feet began to move on their own, carrying him forward step by step toward the massive willow tree.
He walked as though sleepwalking, utterly unaware that he was approaching death.
At the same moment, cracks began to appear on the surface of the old willow's trunk. The fissures widened and twisted unnaturally, forming a grotesque, mouth-like opening. From within, a chilling aura seeped out, accompanied by an unmistakable sense of anticipation.
The Huorn was smiling.
Its branches swayed even though there was no wind. Every leaf trembled gently, releasing that hypnotic song, which now sounded like countless voices whispering in unison—soft, persistent, irresistible.
Robert continued walking forward.
Closer.
Closer still.
Just as he stepped beneath the shadow of the willow tree and the massive crack in its trunk opened wide—ready to swallow him whole—the long-silent system finally reacted.
[Hogwarts Sign-in System detected: Old Forest.] [Sign in available. Proceed?]
The mechanical voice rang out inside Robert's mind like a thunderclap.
His eyes snapped open, clarity instantly returning. The drowsiness vanished as if it had never existed, replaced by cold awareness and a surge of adrenaline.
Without hesitation, Robert raised his hand and shouted an incantation.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
A beam of white light shot forth, striking the open crack in the willow tree. In an instant, the Huorn stiffened, its branches freezing in place. The eerie song stopped abruptly, plunging the forest into unnatural silence.
Robert exhaled sharply, relief flooding his chest.
But that relief lasted less than a second.
With a deep, creaking roar, the petrified bark cracked. The Huorn violently shook itself, forcibly breaking free from the spell's restraint. Its thick branches lashed out with terrifying force, sweeping toward Robert like colossal whips.
Robert's pupils shrank.
The Full-Body Bind Curse had barely slowed it down!
"Tch—this thing's tough!"
"Protego!"
An invisible shield flared into existence just in time, intercepting the incoming branch. The impact sent powerful ripples across the magical barrier, and Robert felt the strain travel through his arm and into his body.
The shield would not last long.
His mind raced as he searched for a way to break through the stalemate. Then, his gaze flicked downward, landing on a thick pile of dry, fallen leaves at the base of the willow tree.
An idea struck him.
"Incendio!"
A fireball burst from his hand, arcing through the air before crashing into the pile of leaves. Flames erupted instantly, spreading rapidly and licking up the trunk of the ancient willow.
Fire—the natural bane of all trees.
Even the mighty Huorn was no exception.
A panicked, furious roar echoed through the forest as the willow tree flailed its branches wildly, desperately trying to beat back the flames. Its focus shifted entirely to extinguishing the fire, leaving itself open.
Robert seized the opportunity.
With a sharp gesture, the bone-chopping knife at his waist flew into the air, spinning like a deadly boomerang. It sliced cleanly through one of the thick willow branches before returning neatly to his hand.
The severed branch thudded onto the ground.
Mission accomplished.
Grabbing the branch, Robert turned and ran without looking back. He sprinted along the Willow River, his heart pounding, while furious, hate-filled roars echoed behind him.
He did not slow until the sounds finally faded into the distance.
The Willow River flowed downstream into the Brandywine River, and the confluence lay not far from Buckland. Returning through the Old Forest was no longer an option, so Robert decided to follow the river downstream, then loop back upstream along the Brandywine to reach Buckland Town.
But before leaving the forest entirely, there was one more thing to do.
"System, sign me in."
[Sign-in successful.] [Congratulations. You have obtained: Ollivander's Wand-Making Craftsmanship.]
In an instant, vast amounts of knowledge flooded Robert's mind. Techniques, theories, and centuries of wand-making experience intertwined seamlessly with his own memories.
He now knew how to make a wand.
Robert couldn't help but smile broadly. Though the reward was not a tangible item or spell, it was invaluable. With this craftsmanship, he could create a wand perfectly suited to himself—one that would greatly amplify his magical abilities.
Without a wand, many advanced spells were difficult or outright dangerous to cast.
For instance, the killing curse he secretly yearned for—Avada Kedavra. Attempting it without a wand would likely result in his own death before his enemy's.
Fortunately, fate had been kind.
As Robert traveled along the riverbanks, the trees remained eerily silent. None attacked him, as though the forest itself had acknowledged his escape.
By the time he reached Buckland Town, dawn had already broken.
"Oh my goodness, Robert! Where have you been?" Drogo Baggins exclaimed, staring at Robert's dusty and disheveled appearance in disbelief.
"I took a trip to the Old Forest," Robert said with a grin as he collapsed onto the low sofa. "Had a bit of a fight with the trees."
"What? The Old Forest?!" Drogo nearly dropped the bread in his hands. "That place is forbidden! Hobbits don't go there—especially not alone!"
After hurriedly checking that Robert still had all his limbs intact, Drogo finally let out a shaky sigh of relief.
"You're not hurt, are you?"
Robert shook his head, smiling. "I'm a wizard, remember? Don't worry—it wasn't me who suffered."
After breakfast, Robert immediately began processing the materials he had brought back.
Chestnut, alder, laurel, elm—over a dozen types of wood lay before him, along with the prized branch taken from the ancient willow.
One by one, he tested their compatibility with his magic.
Most resisted him to varying degrees.
But when he touched the willow branch, his eyes lit up.
The magic flowed smoothly and powerfully through the wood, as though it had been waiting for him all along. Not only did it possess exceptional magical properties, but its compatibility with him was unmatched.
He had found the perfect wand wood.
According to Ollivander's knowledge, the best wand wood must be harvested at midnight under a full moon. By sheer luck, the previous night had been exactly that.
The branch was nearly a meter long—enough to create several wands.
Dividing it into three sections, Robert picked one up. Instantly, the wand's ideal shape and size appeared clearly in his mind.
He knew exactly how to begin.
This was the true power of Ollivander's Wand-Making Craftsmanship.
And Robert was ready to take his first step as a true wandmaker.
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