Facts proved that some of Robert's instincts were quite accurate... Though, you couldn't really call it instinct.
Because while everyone else was celebrating, Robert had noticed grey cat fur on the stairs—and Tom at the top of them. If his eyesight was good enough, he could even see the scabs on its body and the oddly discolored patches of fur.
After Robert entered the common room, Tom appeared, looking smug, as if seeking praise.
Praise?
A few minutes later, Robert couldn't help but twitch the corner of his mouth.
He suddenly wondered—could it be that Tom had seen Mrs. Norris trying to stop him last night?
It wasn't impossible.
After all, before coming to Hogwarts, Robert had told Tom not to harm other people's pets... and Mrs. Norris was certainly considered Filch's pet.
So, Tom attacking her without reason didn't make sense.
Moreover, Mrs. Norris would likely not provoke Tom either, who was larger and tougher than she was.
Besides, even if Tom truly disliked Mrs. Norris, he would usually clean up any evidence after an attack—just like he did when he tried to hide Raifu that one time.
Robert had never doubted Tom's intelligence.
After all, the cats at Yila Owl Shop all had some Kneazle blood in them, and the fact that Tom could stand out among them and become the "Pet Shop Overlord" said a lot.
Now that Tom dared to keep the "evidence" on him for a whole day and even appeared openly in front of Robert, it meant he was fearless and didn't worry about any consequences.
Thinking this through, things became much simpler.
"Well done."
Robert climbed the stairs and rubbed Tom's chin.
The cat rubbed against his hand, purring.
"But you still can't eat your colleagues. That's non-negotiable!"
The soft fur under his hand vanished almost instantly, and when Robert turned his head again, he only saw the tip of a black tail disappearing into the celebrating crowd.
"Robert!"
Ron's voice called from behind him.
"You said you'd tell us the reason tonight."
"Ah, that's right." Robert stood up.
"What were you just doing?" Harry asked curiously.
He had caught a glimpse of Robert touching something earlier, but it had vanished in the blink of an eye.
"Nothing," Robert replied casually. "Aren't you all curious about why I changed dorms? Come with me."
At this, Harry promptly forgot his earlier doubts.
The group headed up to the second floor together.
Robert's new dorm wasn't far from the original one—in fact, it was right next door. The two doors were less than ten feet apart.
The interior layout hadn't changed either.
Gryffindor didn't offer single rooms in the true sense. This was also a five-person room, but since there weren't many new students, it was currently vacant.
As Harry and the others stepped inside, they all looked around simultaneously.
Then their eyes landed on the desk in the center of the room.
Their old dorm had a similar large desk in the middle of the five beds, typically used for school bags, snacks, wizard chess, and sometimes homework.
But since Robert lived here alone, the desk wasn't cluttered.
There was only a long transparent glass tube on it, filled with a pale yellow gel-like substance, and a... wand?
"This isn't a wand, just a semi-finished product."
Before anyone could ask, Robert began to explain. "That's the wand body soaking solution—mixed with fifty different herbs and tree oils. Non-toxic, but a bit pungent."
As he spoke, Robert took out the semi-finished wand.
Drops of the liquid clung to it and fell onto the desk, releasing a strange smell—bitter, earthy, and sour. It was like fermented ketchup poured over a freshly cut tree root.
A bizarre combination.
Seamus and Ron instinctively covered their noses, but Harry didn't seem affected.
Having lived in the Dursleys' cupboard for so long, unpleasant smells didn't bother him much.
At that moment, he was watching Robert with growing curiosity.
"You just said that was a semi-finished wand?"
"To be precise, it's just the wand body." Robert gently rubbed it, and the cylindrical wooden stick split into two halves in the middle.
"Is it done?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"What?"
"The necessary prep work," Robert clarified, raising his hand and producing a red, slightly glowing "string" from somewhere.
"Wait, Robert..." Neville suddenly realized something and asked hesitantly, "Are you going to make a wand now?"
"Yeah," Robert nodded. "The wand body is in good condition, and the core's ready—so why not?"
"But... but... we're still here," Neville stammered, caught off guard. "Can we watch the process of wand-making?"
Neville, being from a pure-blood wizard family, knew how rare this was. His memory might be fuzzy at times, but he remembered one thing: only Ollivander made wands in England. At least, as far as he knew.
"You mean this?" Robert looked at them one by one—Neville, Harry, Seamus, Ron...
"Ah, it's fine. No problem at all. I trust you," Robert said with a light smile.
As if a ray of sunlight had broken through a dark cloud, a strange emotion washed over them—some mix of guilt and admiration.
They had spent days badgering Robert about switching dorms, saying unpleasant things… but here he was, trusting them enough to share something this personal—possibly even a family secret.
Damn... they really weren't good friends.
In fact, when that pungent odor first hit their noses, they already understood why Robert wanted to live separately.
If it was just occasional, it could be tolerated. But if they had to smell this every single day… they'd probably lose their minds.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Seamus Finnigan declared first, his eyes full of resolution.
"Huh?" Robert looked at him. "I wasn't... Well, you can think of it like that too."
Truthfully, Robert wasn't worried at all.
If making a wand could be learned just by watching, then the craft would be far too cheap.
Besides, these guys... well, let's just say they weren't known for their intellect.
Of course, he'd never say that out loud—it would be too cruel.
Ignoring the others, Robert confidently placed the red "string" onto the cross-section of the wand body.
One end of the "string" slithered in like a stream joining a river—or like a fish, twisting and gliding under Robert's guidance, leaving behind a flickering red trail.
Guidance?
Harry blinked, suddenly feeling as if reality blurred for a moment.
He noticed Robert's right hand glowing faintly with golden light, forming what seemed to be a mystical symbol.
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