"Please allow me to introduce Mr. Olivander," Dumbledore said, sitting at the judges' table, addressing the warriors. "He will check your magic wands to ensure they're in good condition before the competition."
At this moment, Mr. Olivander stood up.
"Miss Delacour, would you mind going first?" Mr. Olivander said, walking to the open space in the center of the room.
Fleur Delacour walked elegantly towards Mr. Olivander and handed him her magic wand.
"Hmm..." he murmured.
Mr. Olivander twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton, and it emitted many pink and gold sparks. Then he brought the wand close to his eyes for a thorough inspection.
"Not bad," he said softly, "Nine and a half inches... inflexible... made of maple wood... containing... oh, dear..."
"A strand of Enchantress hair," Fleur said, "from my grandmother."
Oh, indeed it is Enchantress hair.
Harry felt his guess was correct. That girl, second only to Vivi in beauty, indeed had Enchantress blood.
But that had little to do with him.
"Yes," Mr. Olivander said, "Yes, of course, I've personally never used Enchantress hair—I find wands made with it too sensitive and capricious... However, everyone has their preferences, and since it suits you..."
Mr. Olivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for any scratches and dents. Then, he whispered, "Orchideous!" A bouquet of flowers bloomed at the tip of the wand.
"Very good, very good, in fine condition," Mr. Olivander said, bundling up the flowers with the wand and handing it back to Fleur. "Mr. Krum, it's your turn."
Victor Krum rose from his seat, his round shoulders sagging, and walked slouchingly towards Mr. Olivander.
He handed over his wand, frowning as he stood there, his hands stuffed in his robe pockets.
"Hmm," Mr. Olivander said, "If I'm not mistaken, this is a product of Grigovich—an excellent wand craftsman, although his style is not exactly to my taste... but..."
He raised the wand, turning it over carefully before his eyes.
"Indeed... hornbeam wood, containing dragon heartstring, am I right?" He glanced at Krum—Krum nodded, "Thicker than what one usually sees... Very rigid... Ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"
The hornbeam wand gave a loud bang like a gunshot, and a flock of small birds flapped from the wand tip, flying into the light through an open window.
"Very good," Mr. Olivander said, handing the wand back to Krum, "And the last one... Mr. Potter."
Harry stood up, brushing past Krum, and walked over to Mr. Olivander.
He handed over his wand to Mr. Olivander.
"Ah, yes," Mr. Olivander said, taking the wand, his light-colored eyes suddenly sparkling with excitement, "Yes, yes, yes... I remember it clearly."
"Beech wood, dragon heartstring, eleven inches—" he repeated what he had said years ago, "I've mentioned before, a true match for a beech wood wand should be this way: if a teenager, he or she has wisdom beyond their years; if an adult, they are surely understanding, experienced..."
"And at that time, I forgave you," Harry recalled the incident at Olivander's Wand Shop and said with a chuckle.
"Your magnanimity could light up the entire Hogwarts Great Hall," Mr. Olivander said, smiling as well.
Clearly, Mr. Olivander was pleased to see this wand, as, of the three warriors in the Triwizard Tournament, two of their wands weren't made by him. He was delighted to see one of his own wands at last.
"Well then." Mr. Olivander raised the wand and gave it a flick.
The wand suddenly sprayed out a burst of wine—but here's the problem, the wine it sprayed out was green...
Olivander: ?
No, why did your wand spray out green wine?
Could it be because it's environmentally friendly?
Mr. Olivander once again scrutinized the wand and secretly used a detection spell...
Harry finally remembered what he'd forgotten—during Professor Moody's class, he'd used this wand to cast the Killing Curse.
He wasn't nervous, even if he was found to have used the Killing Curse; it didn't matter. After all, it was Professor Moody who told him to do it, and he was just doing what a student should do—following instructions.
"What happened?" Mr. Crouch, who had been silent, asked, but his gaze was on Harry.
Mr. Olivander glanced at Harry, took a deep breath, and said, "Nothing, Mr. Crouch—let's just say the wand is well-maintained, and it was just a small mistake on my part."
Mr. Crouch frowned, his intuition telling him something was off, very off, yet he couldn't pinpoint exactly what.
How could wine be green? Even if Olivander did make a mistake, this shouldn't be the case—
Yet he chose to trust the judgment of a seasoned wand maker, casting one last deep look at Harry before saying nothing more.
Mr. Olivander returned the wand to Harry, laughed, and said, "Alright, then this wand is yours again. I hope you continue to take good care of it."