Hermione sat there in confusion, not understanding why Robert cared so much about that address. However, seeing his serious expression, she didn't press further. She just nodded and said, "Okay, no problem."
She could be a bit stubborn and opinionated, but it wasn't as if she completely lacked emotional intelligence. Well… maybe not much, but at least she had some. Since Robert clearly didn't like the way she'd referred to it, she decided to drop it. After all, it was just changing how she said something. Not complicated at all. Too simple, really.
"So, you're also a wandmaker?" Hermione asked again.
Robert thought for a moment before answering, "Right now, I'd say I'm only half of one."
As one of the future trio, Robert didn't mind chatting with her a bit longer. Also, the train was swaying too much, and it was uncomfortable to read while bouncing around like that. Even Tom, who usually wasn't picky about his environment, couldn't stand it anymore. He crawled out from between the two suitcases and collapsed, dizzy, on the table.
Robert picked him up, gently smoothing out his fur, and continued, "Strictly speaking, I'm still an apprentice. I have to officially sell ten wands before I can call myself a full-fledged wandmaker."
"So, how many have you sold so far?" Hermione asked, her eyes occasionally glancing at the cat in Robert's arms.
No wonder he had used a cat as an example earlier.
She hadn't expected Robert's pet to be such an ordinary mixed-breed cat. So ordinary that calling it a stray might even be more accurate. Hermione rarely saw anyone keeping that kind of wild cat as a pet. Most people she knew preferred prettier, purebred cats—like British Shorthairs or Persians.
Robert's family made wands, right? That should mean they were fairly well-off. So was this a personal preference?
Of course, she would never ask such questions aloud. That would be far too rude.
"If we're talking officially sold... one," Robert said casually, scratching Tom's chin.
"Oh, that's really not many," Hermione blurted out without thinking.
"Hm?" Robert stared at her, briefly wondering if she was clever or just foolish.
"Have you considered that I'm only eleven?"
At eleven, before even attending a magical school, being able to craft and sell even one wand—did she realize how significant that was?
…Apparently, she didn't.
Looking at Hermione's confused expression, Robert rubbed his forehead. He'd nearly forgotten—Hermione's parents were Muggles, and she'd had no prior exposure to the wizarding world. It was normal that she didn't understand the significance.
As for Neville, who sat next to her… he didn't count. Best to skip over him.
Merlin's trousers, he rarely tried to show off, and now that he had, it had completely flopped.
Robert was about ready to stop talking, but Hermione clearly wasn't done with the conversation. It was rare for her to find a wizard who was willing to talk to her, and she still had so many questions she wanted to ask.
What about Neville?
He never knew anything when she asked. He didn't count either.
Neville: …
To keep the discussion going, Hermione pulled out her wand—a beautiful vine wood wand.
Although Neville still hadn't figured out what was going on, seeing Hermione suddenly bring up wands prompted him to take his out as well.
Robert took one look at it.
[Cherry wood, Unicorn tail hair, eleven inches]
[Status: Damaged]
[Attribute: Resistance - Spell effect: -50%, Spell success rate: -50%, High probability of backfiring.]
Robert raised his eyes and asked cautiously, "This wand of yours… it wasn't sold to you by Ollivander, was it?"
Although it seemed unlikely, he still felt the need to confirm. If Ollivander had truly sold Neville such a damaged wand, blinded by greed, Robert might still be able to fix the situation.
"No, it wasn't," Neville replied, suddenly nervous that Robert was speaking to him directly.
"This… this is my… my father's wand," he said hesitantly, lowering his head. His voice was soft, and his face flushed even redder.
Robert and Hermione could both tell that Neville felt awkward and uncomfortable with the subject.
So Robert didn't press further. As long as it wasn't something their family had sold, it was fine.
Still, out of professional responsibility, he gave a warning.
"I suggest you get a wand that belongs to you. This one doesn't suit you at all. Using it will be very difficult."
Attending school with this kind of wand… it was like finding the curriculum too easy and deliberately raising the difficulty level.
"But this is my father's wand," Neville said, raising his head. Surprisingly, this time he didn't stutter.
"A wand isn't like clothing or shoes, nor is it a sack of Galleons," Robert explained patiently. "It has nothing to do with ownership; it only ever truly belongs to one person. At least, most wands are that way."
He wasn't just saying that. Fred and George were a perfect example. They were as close as two people could be—identical twins in both appearance and personality. One could even argue their relationship was closer than most father and son pairs. Yet their wands were completely different.
Fred's was made of dogwood, thirteen and three-quarters inches long.
George's was beechwood, thirteen and a half inches.
Aside from both having unicorn tail hair cores, they had nothing in common.
Neville lowered his head again. He wanted to argue, but couldn't think of anything to say.
His grandmother had told him he had to be like his father—to become the pride of the Longbottom family. And that meant starting by using his father's wand.
Besides, deep down, Neville himself also wanted to use that wand. When he held it, he could almost believe—just for a moment—that his father and mother were still by his side.
His head drooped even lower, his face unseen by others turning from red to pale.
"Don't say that…" Hermione said gently, unable to hold back her sympathy any longer. She couldn't bear to see Neville looking so miserable and wanted to defend him.
"It's just a wand. I've never heard of any weapon that couldn't be used by someone else. I think the most important thing is learning the spells."
"I've read Spell Analysis and Elaboration and Twentieth Century's Most Popular Spells," she added, turning to Neville with a serious expression. "Both books focus on incantations and wrist movements. They don't mention wands at all."
"That's because the authors never imagined someone would try using a wand that clearly doesn't suit them…" Robert muttered inwardly.
Choosing a compatible wand was such common knowledge in the wizarding world that no one thought to explain it in books. It was like a Muggle author forgetting to mention that a nearsighted person shouldn't wear reading glasses.
Still… looking at the two of them, Robert held back from saying more.
One was a first-year from a Muggle family, and the other was driven more by emotion than reason. Any further explanation would just make him seem mean.
Once they experienced real magic at school, they would understand. They'd see firsthand how crucial it was to have a wand that truly suited them.