August passed quickly.
On September 1st, Ollivander took the Knight Bus early in the morning and dropped Robert off in an alley outside King's Cross Station.
"This is outrageous! It's your first day of school, and Ryan and Lila didn't even send a letter!" Ollivander complained for the third time that day, clearly upset.
But Robert didn't mind.
"Those botanists of theirs are all like this. It's common for them to wait months just for a flower to bloom. Haven't you gotten used to it yet?" Robert replied casually.
"I just think it's unfair to you." Ollivander sighed, "Today is clearly a big day."
"Then you're overthinking it," Robert said. He really didn't care.
"It's great that you can say that."
As Robert was about to comfort his grandfather, who was so concerned about him, Ollivander suddenly slapped him on the shoulder.
"In that case, I'll see you off here." Ollivander pulled out his wand, his eyes sparkling with excitement.
"Last night, Mr. Druw wrote to me saying he found a pine forest in Dorset with Bowtruckles living in it, all trees over three hundred years old. I need to hurry and take a look."
"Well, then, good luck!" Robert said, trying to hide his amusement.
Before Robert could say anything else, Ollivander had vanished from the spot, leaving only a swirl of air behind him.
"Meow~ roar~"
Tom, Robert's pet tabby cat, was startled by the sudden Apparition. Its back arched high, and all its fur stood on end.
Tom had no special meaning to its name; Robert just thought foreign cats should be called Tom.
"It's okay, relax." Robert, now calm, softly comforted his pet. "No wandmaker can resist the allure of Bowtruckles, especially a newly discovered colony. This is a normal reaction for him."
To be more precise, Ollivander wasn't interested in the Bowtruckles themselves, but in the trees they lived in. Not just any piece of wood could be made into a wand. Magic wasn't that casual. The most important requirement was that the wood had the Bowtruckles' approval. Only if Bowtruckles nested on it could a branch be taken to make a wand; otherwise, it was scrap. Oh, except for dragon blood wood. That stuff was guaranteed to get the Bowtruckles' approval, though they didn't dare live in it.
Currently, this kind of high-quality wand wood was rare in England. Ollivander could only find materials abroad, which is why he had rushed off.
Robert looked around. Thankfully, the alley they were in was relatively secluded, and there were no Muggles nearby.
Seemingly understanding Robert's words, Tom gradually calmed down and curled back up on the suitcase.
Robert walked into King's Cross Station, found a trolley, and headed toward Platform Nine. Though it was his first time there, Robert was naturally familiar with a place as famous as Platform 9.
It only took him ten minutes to find his destination— a small area between Platforms Nine and Ten that had been enchanted with a Muggle-Repelling Charm.
When he arrived, a round-faced boy was cautiously approaching one of the dividing walls. He walked very slowly, seemingly afraid of hitting his head.
However, this action annoyed an oddly dressed old woman standing nearby.
"Don't act like a scaredy-cat, Neville, run through, quickly!" Madam Longbottom snapped.
The boy, startled by her tone, dashed toward the wall, disappearing through it. Rather than running through, Robert thought he looked more like he had lost his balance after being startled and fell through, trolley and all.
Madam Longbottom didn't seem to notice. She seemed quite pleased with Neville's decisiveness, nodding in satisfaction.
At the same time, she noticed Robert standing nearby.
"You're also taking the train to Hogwarts, aren't you?"
Robert nodded, thinking she was a bit confused. If someone came to King's Cross Station at this time and wasn't going to Hogwarts, were they here for tourism?
"What year?"
"First year," Robert answered truthfully.
"Neville is also a first-year." Madam Longbottom looked at Robert again and only then noticed he was alone.
"Alone, and from a Muggle family that can't accept magic? Ha, this sort of thing happens every year."
"Alright, child, if you're looking for the platform..." She reached out and pointed to the wall in front of her, "Just run through, and you'll be there. Close your eyes if you're scared."
She had clearly misunderstood something.
Robert opened his mouth, intending to explain, but after a moment's hesitation, he changed his tone.
"Ah, thank you."
It wasn't a big deal anyway. Robert put on a look of sudden understanding and pushed his trolley toward the wall.
The moment he passed through, the scene before his eyes instantly changed.
Robert wasn't concerned about any of this. The words he had just heard still echoed in his mind.
Sorted into Gryffindor...
That's awful!
Robert felt completely out of sorts. He, a wandmaker! Whether carving runes on the wand shaft or rolling materials into cores, his work was all delicate craftsmanship. Patience, meticulousness, and calmness were essential. Sometimes, to roll a perfect core, he would spend the entire day in a room, immersed in concentration.
But what kind of place was Gryffindor? Where the body moved faster than the mind, and people drew wands and fought after every disagreement. Not everyone was like that, of course, but calling it a hothead base camp wasn't wrong.
Putting him in Gryffindor?
That was insulting! It would be truly awful!
Robert turned and looked at the dividing wall, wanting to go back and persuade the other person to change their blessing. He really couldn't go to Gryffindor, or his peers would definitely mock him.
Just as this thought surfaced, someone else came through from behind, and Robert had no choice but to keep moving forward to make enough space for the newcomer.
"Oh, sorry, I hope I didn't hit you," the trolley brushed past Robert's arm.
"Ah, no," Robert slightly turned sideways, and then heard the other person continue.
"You must be a first-year. As a Prefect, I must remind you not to linger at the platform entrance, as it obstructs others."
"I understand." Robert looked at the red-haired boy in front of him, who was wearing horn-rimmed glasses and had a habit of fiddling with his Prefect badge three times in half a minute.
Percy Weasley. An acquaintance, although Percy didn't seem to recognize him.
Robert didn't speak.
Getting cursed at for no reason was annoying enough, but now he met someone who constantly had "I am a Prefect" on his lips. That was even more irritating.
Arguing wasn't an option; Robert wasn't that type of person.
"Is Prefect another name for a big-headed boy? Ha, if you like it," Robert muttered under his breath, staring at Percy's badge. He raised an eyebrow and put on a look as if he were inspecting a Troll, before turning and walking away, practically holding his nose.
He was just a first-year who hadn't even started school yet. He had no idea what a Prefect was, so there was no problem at all!
What's more, Percy's badge really did say "Big-Headed Boy."
Percy's face instantly turned red. What was worse, his two younger brothers, Fred and George, were standing at the platform entrance and started laughing hysterically.
"You two must have tampered with my Prefect badge!"
"Nonsense!"
"We didn't!"
"I'm telling Mum!"
The platform entrance instantly became lively, but none of this concerned Robert. By this time, he had already picked up his luggage and boarded the train.