Secrets Unveiled

Harry hurriedly departed from Professor McGonagall's office on the morning of November 17th. In just a few minutes the Wand weighing ceremony was set to begin, and Harry was not particularly interested in being late.

Salazar had told him that one could learn many things from a wand, as they often represented the witch or wizard they were bonded to. The stronger the bond, the more accurate the information he might learn would be. In fact, Harry had spent much of the morning studying wand lore, as to learn a thing or two about his competition.

He entered the antechamber with just a few minutes to spare. The other three champions were all inside the room. Krum was standing with Karkaroff in one corner, chatting quietly. Fleur stood by the window of the room, with Madame Maxime. Cedric was sitting down beside a blonde-haired witch, whose pen was writing something down on it's own accord.

Harry was somewhat pleased that the Wand weighing ceremony was today. He was in an unusually good mood - perhaps he had simply woken up on the right side of the bed, perhaps he had a pleasant dream that he had forgotten. Either way, he was happier than he had been in a while, to the point where the Wand weighing ceremony no longer seemed like a burden. Harry hoped that would not change.

"Ah, that's the last of them!" said Bagman, emerging from the corner where he had been talking with Mr. Crouch. Beside Mr. Crouch stood Professor Dumbledore and Mr. Ollivander.

"Let us begin with the weighing of the wands!" said Bagman happily, "Now, as this is a private ceremony, there is to be a very small number of ministry officials, merely myself and old Barty. We have only one reporter as well, Miss Rita Skeeter."

The blonde woman in the back waved at them all, though Harry swore her eyes kept landing on him.

"Now, if you would please organize yourselves into a line, we will have Mr. Ollivander take a look at your wands."

"Mademoiselle Delacour, if you could please present your wand?" asked the wand maker.

He's not looking at her.

It was a true statement. The old man seemed to be looking everywhere except at the Veela, and yet he seemed to know exactly when Fleur held out her wand. Harry also noticed that Dumbledore seemed to be doing something similar to Ollivander, although to a less extreme extent.

Dumbledore seemed to be avoiding Fleur's eyes in particular, and Harry thought he understood why. Salazar had told him that the eyes were the windows of the soul; it was why most needed to maintain eye contact for Legilimency - looking a Veela in the eye would probably increase the strength of the allure. Neither of the two old men seemed particularly affected by the allure, even if they were acting strangely so as to make that the case.

Ollivander held the wand within his grasp, caressing it the same way one might do to a lover.

"Rosewood, nine and a half inches . . . inflexible . . . with a rather peculiar core, the hairs of a Veela?"

Fleur nodded, appearing to be fairly uncomfortable with the situation.

Kindness, love, inner beauty. Loyalty and pride.

Harry didn't know the Veela well, though he was not overly surprised by what her wand implied about her - he knew she wore a facade, one far better than his own.

"You have a strong bond with your wand." noted Ollivander, "Orchideous!"

A bouquet of flowers appeared from the tip of the wand, which Ollivander vanished a moment later.

"It is in perfect condition." said Ollivander, handing Fleur her wand back. The old wand maker motioned for Cedric to come forward.

"Ash, twelve and a quarter inches . . . springy . . . containing the hairs of a rather impressive male unicorn. You polish it often?"

"Just last night, actually." said Cedric happily.

Harry stole a quick look at his own wand. It was covered from end to end in fingerprints, with tiny flecks of dirt running across the surface. Harry silently grabbed a bit of his robes, wiping his wand with it. A small spark of electricity sparked from the tip of his wand and met his foot. It took everything he had not to yelp in pain.

Krum raised his eyebrows at the occurrence, as did Fleur, though neither said anything.

Harry turned back to Cedric, going over what Ollivander said in his head.

Hard working, and steadfast. Humble as well.

"In perfect condition." declared Ollivander as he handed Cedric his wand, "Mr. Krum, if you would please step forward?"

The Quidditch player slouched forward slightly, before handing over his wand.

"Ah, a Gregorovitch creation!" exclaimed Ollivander, "He was an excellent wand maker, a good friend of mine before he passed. Now, as for your wand . . . hornbeam, ten and a quarter inches . . . rigid, and with a core of dragon heartstring."

A wand well suited for those who put time and effort into a singular goal, in his case most likely Quidditch. Quiet, yet determined.

"Avis!" chanted Ollivander, several small birds flowing from the edge of the wand. They chirped shrilly for a few moments, before flying through the open window.

"Lastly, but not least, Mr. Potter." said Ollivander, motioning towards him. Harry made his way towards the wandmaker, holding out his wand. He held the wand with care, more so than he had with any other.

"If I were to forget every wand that I had ever sold, this would certainly be the last to fade from my mind - " begun Ollivander.

Harry discreetly turned his head around, winking at Cedric. He heard a soft choking noise from Fleur, who seemed to have tried her hardest not to smile (and had unfortunately succeeded). Even Krum, who was almost always frowning, had cracked a smile at that.

Stop fooling around. This is more important.

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