Wands Under Scrutiny
Sirius flicked his wand, and several chairs, one for each champion, slid smoothly toward them. At the same time, the remaining members of the panel took their seats behind the table draped in cloth. Professor Karkaroff was there, along with Madame Maxime, Ludo Bagman, Mr. Crouch, and finally, Dumbledore.
Rita Skeeter moved to sit in a corner, where she pulled a parchment from her bag along with a quill that appeared to write on its own.
“Well, some of you may know him and some may not, but allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivander. He will be inspecting your wands and ensuring they are in proper condition,” Sirius said, gesturing toward the entrance as Ollivander made his way into the room. Then Sirius took his seat in the center, between the judges.
Ollivander, his pale eyes sharp and attentive, looked over all the participants as he gave a brief nod in greeting. His grey, unruly hair and calm demeanor gave the impression of an old man who took his craft very seriously.
“Miss Delacour, if you would be so kind as to go first,” Ollivander said, getting straight to the point as he positioned himself at the center of the room.
Fleur stood and walked toward him, drawing her wand. It was a beautiful silver wand with faint golden hues. Ollivander took it with little regard for its appearance and gave it a gentle wave, as though it were a conductor’s baton. Golden and pink sparks burst from its tip. He then brought it closer to his eyes and examined it carefully.
“Twenty-five centimeters, rigid, made of rowan… and the core contains… my word. Veela hair,” he said, mild surprise in his voice.
“My grandmother,” Fleur replied softly.
“Hm. I’ve never used Veela hair in my wands, as they tend to be temperamental, but if this one suits you…” he commented, running his long fingers along the wand, searching for cracks or scratches. Then he murmured, “Orchideous,” and a bouquet of flowers bloomed from the tip.
“Very good. It’s in perfect condition,” he concluded, taking the flowers and handing the wand back to Fleur.
“Mr. Malfoy, if you please,” Ollivander called next.
Draco stood and handed over his wand without hesitation.
“Yes, this is one of mine,” Ollivander said with a nod. “Ten inches, hawthorn wood, unicorn hair core. It’s in excellent condition. You take regular care of it,” he added approvingly.
“My house-elf polishes it every night. Even when I don’t ask. He has something of an obsession,” Draco remarked in a slightly weary tone, thinking of Dobby.
Ollivander sent a spray of golden sparks from the wand’s tip, followed by a brief flash of pale light. He then returned it without further comment, clearly satisfied.
“Mr. Krum,” Ollivander called.
Viktor rose with slow but measured steps and drew his wand, handing it over with a serious expression and a furrowed brow, watching the old man closely as he handled it.
“Gregorovitch,” Ollivander said at once, recognizing the maker. “As always, his manufacturing style is not to my taste, but that does not diminish the fact that he is a very fine wandmaker,” he remarked, examining it from end to end. Then he raised the wand. “Avis.”
A sharp crack echoed through the room, like a gunshot, as a small flock of birds burst into existence and flew toward the window.
Ollivander handed it back while simply saying, “Good,” as though everything had already been confirmed.
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“Mr. Kovác,” he called, naming the other Durmstrang student. It was the first time Harry had heard his surname; he didn’t even know his first name yet.
Ollivander took the black wand and studied it for a moment. Like Krum’s, it was a Gregorovitch piece, and it appeared almost identical to Viktor’s wand. He even used the same spell to test it. He nodded before returning it.
“Mr. Delacour,” came next.
Luciel approached the center of the room with a calm smile. Unlike the others, who kept their wands tucked away in their robes, he reached into a magical bag and, to everyone’s surprise, drew out a silver saber with a plain white hilt. Though slightly shorter than a normal sword, it was unmistakably a blade, not a wand.
Fleur glanced at her cousin with faint weariness at what he had produced, while the others stared in confusion.
Even Ludo looked as though he were about to speak, but Ollivander took the sword before he could and drew it from its sheath.
“Hm. An unusual way to give a wand a physical form,” Ollivander said with a slight smile as he ran his hand along the edge, earning himself a small cut on his finger. “And a dangerous one,” he added.
He brought his eyes close to every part of the weapon, nodding in approval. Even in this form, it had not lost its qualities as a wand in the slightest.
“It must have been difficult to find a steel that conducts magic so well,” he commented, lifting his gaze toward Luciel.
“Not too difficult. Mr. Flamel helped me a bit,” Luciel replied with a confident smile.
“Yes. Thankfully he doesn’t make wands, or he’d put all of us out of work,” Ollivander said as he raised the sword and gripped it by the hilt. “Diffindo,” he declared, pointing it toward a wall.
A cutting force shot forward and struck the stone, carving a deep gash into it. Ollivander nodded with interest.
“An interesting wand,” he said as he returned it to Luciel, who slid it back into its sheath and, rather than storing it away, fastened it at his waist with complete confidence.
“Now, the last one,” Ollivander said, turning his gaze toward Harry.
Harry watched him for a moment, hesitating before standing and stepping forward.
“This… I don’t think it’s a good idea for you to touch my wand,” Harry said quietly.
“That’s all right. Don’t worry, my boy. I understand your concern. But even if it’s a special wand, I’ve seen many like it in my time as a wandmaker, and I know how to handle them,” Ollivander replied confidently.
Even so, Harry hesitated for another moment and glanced toward Sirius, who seemed to have no idea what was troubling him and simply looked back with a shrug.
Harry let out a quiet sigh and drew his wand, staying alert all the same, ready to react if Ollivander turned into something strange, like the last time someone had taken hold of it.
The instant the wand was fully visible, Ollivander’s eyes widened so much it looked as though they might pop right out of their sockets. He immediately took a step back.
“No. It’s fine. It’s fine,” he said quickly. “It appears to be in very good condition. There’s no need to inspect it,” he added, a bead of sweat sliding down his forehead.
That reaction made everyone turn to stare at the old man in surprise.
Even Harry looked slightly taken aback. Ollivander had just claimed he could handle it, yet the moment he saw the wand, he clearly reconsidered. Still, that was probably for the best.
“You’re not going to check it, Mr. Ollivander?” Ludo asked.
“There’s no need. Just by looking at it, I can tell it’s well maintained. Very well, in fact,” Ollivander replied swiftly. “That concludes my work for today,” he added before turning around and leaving in a hurry, leaving everyone behind somewhat stunned.
Meanwhile, Dumbledore’s gaze shifted to Harry’s wand, which he was still holding. He narrowed his eyes and studied it closely for a brief moment, until Harry finally put it away, feeling that perhaps it wasn’t such a bad thing after all that Ollivander hadn’t touched it.
Even Draco let out a quiet sigh of relief.
“Hm. Well, I suppose that’s everything,” Sirius said, watching the whole scene with a mix of interest and mild amusement.
But just then, the photographer jumped to his feet.
“The photos, Mr. Black. The photos,” Ludo Bagman said almost immediately. “First with all the members of the panel and the champions. What do you think, Rita?” he added quickly.
“Of course,” Rita replied, nodding as she glanced at Harry and Draco for a moment, then at Luciel. “And then a few individual ones,” she added.
They began taking the pictures. Wherever Madame Maxime stood, she blocked the light entirely, so in the end they simply had her sit down while the others remained standing around her.
The photographer insisted on placing Fleur at the front, while Harry and Draco took the opportunity not to stand out too much and positioned themselves toward the back, alongside Krum, who wore an unmistakably fed-up expression, as though he had long since grown tired of photos in his daily life.
After that came individual pictures of each champion and, finally, a few taken in pairs, matching the champions from each school. Once it was all done, they were finally allowed to leave.
Though not for long, as Sirius seemed to call out to both of them.
