Actively offsetting most of the wand core's power, leaving only the most unique one… this was an idea Robert thought of after leaving Knockturn Alley.
At that time, in his attempt to understand the principle behind the appearance of the [Overload] characteristic, he had read numerous books on wandcraft. One such book was Magical Pairings of Wands and Potions by Zigmund Badge.
In this book, Badge applied his expertise as a potioneer to the subject of wand-making, suggesting that wand cores could exhibit something akin to "preparation"—just like potion ingredients.
For example, in potion-making, shrivelfig must be peeled, sopophorous beans juiced, and pufferfish bones lightly smoked. These processes are intended to weaken or amplify certain effects of the ingredients to make the final product more refined.
If this logic applied to potions, why couldn't the same apply to wands? Why couldn't specific effects of wand cores be intentionally diminished to craft a more specialized wand?
Badge had posed this concept, but it was largely dismissed—even by himself. For centuries, the wizarding community assumed Badge had fabricated this idea purely to impress girls, given how outlandish and illogical it seemed. The prevailing belief was: the more powerful and comprehensive the wand core, the more "perfect" the wand. The notion of deliberately weakening a core was unheard of.
Until Robert stumbled across that page.
Because among the items listed that could potentially weaken wand cores, "dragon blood wood" was noted. That detail made Robert pause. It aligned perfectly with his recent experiences. Wasn't that earlier wand made from dragon blood wood seemingly devoted to only casting Avada Kedavra?
Perhaps it was because Voldemort had favored that spell so obsessively. So, Robert wondered: if the wand core had instead been Dragon Heartstring, would only the Fire-Making Spell have remained?
Of course, no one would purchase a wand restricted to casting just a Fire-Making Spell. But what if there were ten, twenty, even fifty different specialized wands—each crafted to excel at a single spell?
That was Robert's vision. He dubbed these creations Directional Wands—wands fixed to one spell. He shared this idea with his grandfather, Garrick, and ordered a large quantity of dragon blood wood from the Dragon Reserve, using Garrick's name to save a hefty sum of Galleons.
Robert rushed upstairs with the dragon blood wood in his arms, practically glowing with excitement. Garrick Ollivander watched his grandson disappear up the stairs, tempted to say something, but stopped himself.
He had a vague sense of what Robert was attempting, but to him, it all seemed like a misguided venture—an outright defiance of conventional wand-making principles. Garrick viewed these "flawed wands" as a borderline sacrilege.
And yet, each time he tried to dissuade Robert, he would recall that Unicorn wand—a whole Unicorn used as a wand core. Was there anything more unconventional than that?
Apparently not.
Garrick shook his head and watched Robert vanish upstairs.
"He might not succeed," Garrick thought. The idea of selective spell enhancement was still theoretical. No solid evidence suggested Dragon Heartstring was particularly suited for fire magic—it was just a probability. Similarly, not all Healers at St. Mungo's used Unicorn tail hair cores either.
Ding-a-ling!
A pleasant chime interrupted his thoughts. A customer had entered, trailed by none other than Professor Flitwick. Judging by the timing, the young student accompanying him was likely here to purchase a wand.
"Just a guess!" Garrick muttered, turning his gaze away from the stairs.
In the days leading up to the new term, Robert immersed himself in experiments with the dragon blood wood. Fred and George Weasley occasionally visited Diagon Alley to consult him—not for proper wands, but for a new line of prank products.
Their idea was clever: wands that looked perfectly normal but transformed into rubber toys when someone tried to cast spells with them. To make them more convincing, they sought Robert's guidance.
He sold them a bottle of pine oil for five Galleons. After soaking their fake wands, the transformation was stunning. Although imperfections remained, most wizards wouldn't notice.
Grateful, Fred and George invited Robert to visit the Burrow. He declined. At the moment, his world revolved entirely around the dragon blood wood.
The work was far more complex than he'd imagined. Several minor wand explosions occurred—rare in recent times. The strength of dragon blood wood exceeded even cherry wood. Diagon Alley residents were treated to grand "firework displays" through the upper windows of Ollivander's every few days.
When neighbors came asking, Garrick always offered the same reply:
"Nothing to worry about. Robert is protected by an Iron Armor Curse."
Boom!
That very day, before Garrick could finish explaining to Florean Fortescue, another explosion rumbled overhead. Dust rained down from ceiling cracks onto their shoulders.
Florean looked horrified. Garrick, used to the spectacle, merely waved his wand to vanish the dust.
This was mild compared to the first blast weeks ago. That time, the dust had poured like rain. By now, the ceiling had been fully cleansed of loose particles.
Upstairs, Robert surveyed the scorched desk with lingering dread and slowly lowered the wand in his hand.
He had nearly handed this one over to Hagrid already—thankfully, he hadn't.
Even more fortunate was Garrick's foresight in enchanting the wand with the Iron Armor Curse. It had saved Robert from serious harm.
The wand was unique:
[Dull]: Records the first spell cast by the wizard. From then on, regardless of the incantation or motion used, the wand would only cast that original spell.
Holding this wand, Robert had a reliable defense mechanism. Even amidst chaotic explosions, the Iron Armor Curse would trigger automatically to shield him.
It came at a cost, though. Garrick had used the wand once and was disoriented for days afterward.
But Robert saw this as a necessary part of progress. Garrick was a master wandmaker—he would adapt, just like he did upon learning Robert could make wands using Red Cap heart nerves.
With practiced ease, Robert picked up Silver Mane and flicked it.
"Reparo!"
The shattered table and broken window returned to their original form.
Robert glanced at the scattered fragments on the floor and sighed. This was the last usable piece of dragon blood wood.
Though dangerous, the rewards of this experiment outweighed the setbacks.
He opened the lizard skin bag—enchanted with a Disillusionment Charm—and took out five wands, each labeled meticulously.
[Dragon blood wood, Unicorn tail hair, eleven inches]
Status: Unbalanced
Characteristics: Spell effect -70%; Scouring Charm +35%
These characteristics were independent. The Scouring Charm retained its bonus effect, unaffected by the general spell weakening.
[Dragon blood wood, Red Cap heart nerve, twelve and one-third inches]
Characteristics: Spell effect -70%; Laceration Charm +30%
[Dragon blood wood, Acromantula leg, twelve inches]
Characteristics: Spell effect -70%; Binding Charm +40%
Upon seeing this one, Robert almost burst out laughing. What does +40% even mean? Even if your Binding Charm is barely strong enough to restrain a rabbit, with this wand, you're instantly Auror-level.
From Acceptable (A) to Outstanding (O) in one flick.
And if an Auror used it? They might rival Dumbledore—if he wasn't wielding the Elder Wand, of course.
Robert still had no clue what the Elder Wand actually looked like, nor its abilities.
And then came the final two:
[Dragon blood wood, Unicorn tail hair, ten and a half inches]
Status: Unbalanced
Characteristics: Spell effect -70%; Patronus Charm +25%
[Dragon blood wood, Dragon Heartstring, thirteen inches]
Status: Unbalanced
Characteristics: Spell effect -70%; Blasting Curse +25%
At first glance, a +25% boost seemed minimal—especially compared to the Binding Charm's +40%. But these were the spells.
The Patronus Charm, a high-level defensive spell and the only known defense against Dementors—standard among Aurors.
The Blasting Curse: one of the most destructive spells accessible to ordinary wizards, and the one that thrilled Robert the most.
The moment he saw the effect, all the previous explosions suddenly felt worthwhile. More importantly, this wand wasn't limited to a single use.
From this, Robert inferred that the earlier [Overload] trait might have stemmed from Voldemort's fragmented soul or perhaps from using dragon blood wood that wasn't ancient enough. Regardless, he hadn't encountered the same issue again.
Which was perfect. Once he learned the Blasting Curse properly, this wand would become his primary offensive tool—just what he'd been lacking.
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