Chapter 138: Wand Inspection
With Halloween over, Jon’s once-peaceful life was suddenly in pieces.
Whenever he appeared in the corridors, people would immediately start whispering and chattering incessantly about him.
Zacharias Smith and Ernie Macmillan deliberately sought his company, clinging to his side whenever possible except during sleep.
“I suspect Durmstrang students will seize any chance to attack you, boosting Krum’s odds of victory—they’ve done it before!” Zacharias declared with certainty. “So we absolutely must protect you!”
Zacharias was bearable, but with Ernie Macmillan’s frail frame, Jon seriously doubted he’d be able to protect him if a fight broke out.
Under such close “surveillance,” visiting the Room of Requirement was out of the question, and sneaking off to see Astoria was practically impossible.
The only chances to see Astoria were during Potions class and Care of Magical Creatures...
Honestly, their relationship was much the same as usual, and Astoria’s mood had stabilized; but Jon always felt there was an inexplicable barrier between them now...
...
During Thursday’s Herbology Class, Professor Sprout was introducing them to a particular herb.
A vine covered in sharp thorns.
“Evil Ghost Vine, also known as Ghost Vine,” Professor Sprout said as she carefully watered the vines. “It grows in tropical regions, often climbing over rocks and tree trunks in rainforests, capable of becoming a massive vine...
“Their thorns can pierce even thick leather and carry a potent paralytic toxin; even magical creatures with high resistance often fall paralyzed and weakened by them...”
Jon listened intently while still pondering the Ukrainian Ironbelly dragon...
A sudden knock on the greenhouse door interrupted his thoughts.
A first-year Ravenclaw student burst in.
“What is it?” Professor Sprout frowned.
“I’m sorry, Professor; I need to take Jon Hart upstairs.” The first-year said timidly. “All the champions have to go. I think they’re going to take pictures and check wands.”
“Is that so?” Professor Sprout smiled gently, then patted Jon’s shoulder. “Go on, Jon... If you’d like to learn more about the ghost vine, come find me in the greenhouse tonight.”
“Yes, Professor.” Jon nodded, slung his bag over his shoulder, stood up, and headed for the door.
“Mr. Hart, you’re incredible!” After leaving the greenhouse, the Ravenclaw first-year couldn’t help but exclaim. “A Hogwarts Champion!”
“Thank you!” Jon gave a polite smile. “Where should we go?”
“To a classroom on the fourth floor. Follow me!”
...
It was a smaller classroom. Most of the desks had been pushed to the back, leaving a large open space in the center.
The other three champions had already arrived. Jon saw Ludo Bagman chatting with a witch in a magenta robe.
Viktor Krum wore his usual sullen expression, Harry Potter stood somewhat awkwardly, and Fleur Delacour looked slightly bored. Upon seeing Jon arrive, she glided over gracefully, and the two exchanged a few casual words in French.
“Everyone here? Allow me to introduce Miss Rita Skeeter.” Mr. Bagman rose to his feet, gesturing toward the woman in the magenta robe. “She’s writing a piece about the Triwizard Tournament for the Daily Prophet...”
Rita Skeeter was a striking, flamboyant woman. Her head was crowned with a bizarre mop of frizzy hair that sat awkwardly atop her square jaw. She wore jeweled spectacles and clutched a crocodile-skin handbag tightly in her thick, stubby fingers.
“Ludo, I don’t think this is a little piece at all!” she exclaimed, her eyes fixed intently on Harry Potter’s face.
Poor Harry felt a chill run down his spine.
Rita Skeeter’s interview began. Unsurprisingly, she asked only a few questions of the other three before dragging Harry into the small dark room. Half an hour later, she emerged flushed with excitement, clutching parchment.
Krum seemed utterly indifferent—or at least wore no expression—while Fleur looked decidedly displeased.
She couldn’t help but curse the reporter under her breath in French.
Fortunately, Dumbledore arrived just in time and politely ushered Rita Skeeter out.
...
The three referees—Madame Maxime, Karkaroff, and Barty Crouch—had also arrived.
“Allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivander,” Dumbledore said, taking a seat. “He will examine your wands to ensure they are in Exceeds Expectations condition before the match.”
The elderly wizard, with his two large, light-colored eyes, appeared silently before them. He examined each of the champions’ wands in turn.
“Nine and a half inches... excellent flexibility... rosewood... containing a strand of Veela hair.”
“Hornbeam, containing dragon heartstring... extremely rigid... ten and a quarter inches.”
“Holly, eleven inches long, containing a Phoenix tail feather.”
He rattled off the details of Fleur, Krum, and Harry’s wands before finally turning his gaze to Jon.
“Ah, Mr. Hart... we meet again!” Mr. Ollivander smiled as he took the wand from Jon’s hand. “It seems like only yesterday we last met...”
The smile on Ollivander’s face suddenly froze.
He opened his mouth, but no words came out.
“Er... Professor Dumbledore!” Mr. Ollivander turned back and bowed slightly to Dumbledore. “May I use the restroom first?”
“Of course!” Dumbledore nodded with a smile.
A few minutes later, Ollivander returned, discreetly slipping a parchment into his pocket. He pretended to examine Jon’s wand, inspecting it carefully.
“Thirteen inches long... made of bamboo, a very unusual material... containing iron-eater’s down...” He returned the wand to Jon. “I am very impressed with this wand, Mr. Hart...”
...
Once Mr. Ollivander had left...
“Photo, Dumbledore, photo!” Bagman exclaimed excitedly. “A group shot of the judges and champions—what do you say, Rita?”
The photo session took an age.
No matter where Madame Maxime stood, she blocked everyone else. Perhaps the room was too small for the photographer to position themselves farther away.
Finally, she sat down on a stool, with everyone else standing around her in a circle.
As soon as the photo session ended, Jon hurried out of the classroom, leaving only Harry Potter behind. Rita Skeeter insisted on dragging him back into the small dark room to take his solo portrait.
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