Harry Potter 04 - Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire

‘He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament.’
    Harry looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. Harry had met Mr Ollivander before – he was the wand-maker from whom Harry had bought his own wand over three years ago in Diagon Alley.
    ‘Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you forward first, please?’ said Mr Ollivander, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.
    Fleur Delacour swept over to Mr Ollivander, and handed him her wand.
    ‘Hmmm …’ he said.
    He twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his eyes and examined it carefully.
    ‘Yes,’ he said quietly, ‘nine and a half inches … inflexible … rosewood … and containing … dear me …’
    ‘An ’air from ze ’ead of a Veela,’ said Fleur. ‘One of my grandmuzzer’s.’
    So Fleur was part Veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron … then he remembered that Ron wasn’t speaking to him.
    ‘Yes,’ said Mr Ollivander, ‘yes, I’ve never used Veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands … however, to each his own, and if this suits you …’
    Mr Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, ‘ Orchideous! ’ and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.
    ‘Very well, very well, it’s in fine working order,’ said Mr Ollivander, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Fleur with her wand. ‘Mr Diggory, you next.’
    Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her.
    ‘Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn’t it?’ said Mr Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand. ‘Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn … must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches … ash … pleasantly springy. It’s in fine condition … you treat it regularly?’
    ‘Polished it last night,’ said Cedric, grinning.
    Harry looked down at his own wand. He could see finger marks all over it. He gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Fleur Delacour gave him a very patronising look, and he desisted.
    Mr Ollivander sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Cedric’s wand, pronounced himself satisfied, and then said, ‘Mr Krum, if you please.’
    Viktor Krum got up and slouched, round-shouldered and duck-footed, towards Mr Ollivander. He thrust his wand out and stood scowling, with his hands in the pockets of his robes.
    ‘Hmm,’ said Mr Ollivander, ‘this is a Gregorovitch creation, unless I’m much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I … however …’
    He lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before his eyes.
    ‘Yes … hornbeam and dragon heartstring?’ he shot at Krum, who nodded. ‘Rather thicker than one usually sees … quite rigid … ten and a quarter inches … Avis! ’
    The hornbeam wand let off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end, and through the open window into the watery sunlight.
    ‘Good,’ said Mr Ollivander, handing Krum back his wand. ‘Which leaves … Mr Potter.’
    Harry got to his feet and walked past Krum to Mr Ollivander. He handed over his wand.
    ‘Aaaah, yes,’ said Mr Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming. ‘Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember.’
    Harry could remember, too. He could remember it as though it had happened yesterday …
    Four summers ago, on his eleventh birthday, he had entered Mr Ollivander’s shop with Hagrid to buy a wand. Mr Ollivander had taken his measurements and then started handing him wands to try. Harry had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, until at last he had found the one that suited him – this one, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Mr Ollivander had been very surprised that Harry had been so compatible with this wand. ‘Curious,’ he had said, ‘… curious’, and not until Harry asked what was curious had Mr Ollivander explained that the phoenix feather in Harry’s