"It's time for your wand inspection, Mr. Ken."
"Yes, Professor..."
After glancing at the clock, Avada nodded his thanks to the bald, heavily bearded professor, then packed up his things and left the classroom under the gaze of a room full of Durmstrang students, along with a small number of fifth-years from Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, hurrying toward the headmaster's office at the top of the castle.
Now that the champion selection had concluded, the Hogwarts and Beauxbatons students had finally begun attending classes at Durmstrang in earnest. And because it was exceedingly rare for someone as young as a fifth-year to qualify as a champion candidate, those scattered few heads naturally became the center of attention for the entire class. Avada, already chosen as a champion, was the most eye-catching of them all.
The most direct consequence of this was that in every lesson, nearly half of the questions the professors asked were directed at him.
Hopefully, that situation would improve after some time.
Very soon, having spent the previous night familiarizing himself with a map of Durmstrang Castle, Avada arrived swiftly outside the headmaster's office. Viktor Krum was already standing there waiting, with Ludo Bagman beside him, while Fleur apparently had not yet arrived. Oddly enough, though, their expressions were slightly unnatural, and the distance between them was a bit wider than it needed to be.
'Oh, right. I heard Krum and Bagman had an argument at the Quidditch World Cup...'
Avada immediately remembered that little detail.
"Ah, the second champion has arrived!"
Seeing that someone had finally come to relieve the awkward atmosphere, Bagman immediately put on an enthusiastic smile and greeted Avada. Then he explained,
"The three headmasters and Mr. Crouch are waiting inside—but by tradition, the three champions' wand inspections are supposed to be conducted together, so we'll have to wait until the last champion arrives before we can go in."
"I understand, Mr. Bagman."
Avada nodded. He exchanged a brief greeting with Krum beside him, then said no more and quietly waited for the last champion.
"Oh, right, there's one more thing."
Perhaps wanting to ease the tension a little further, Bagman spoke up again after a short silence.
"This afternoon, I'll be conducting individual interviews with each of you, so you'll need to come to my office—it's on the second floor, far west side, the second door next to the stairwell..."
"Sorry, it seems I'm late."
Suddenly, a female voice speaking somewhat imperfect English interrupted him. Fleur Delacour's figure rose into view from the staircase, and at last she joined the three of them.
"Well, everyone's here now."
Bagman smiled at her, then turned and knocked three times on the dark wooden door.
"And that means we can finally begin the wand inspection... Professor Karkaroff, if you'd be so kind."
The headmaster's office door was immediately pulled open, revealing a spacious and brightly lit room.
Unlike Dumbledore's oddly styled office, Karkaroff's office exuded a sort of standard magnificence. The bookshelves, the carpet, the huge fireplace, and even the elegant instruments placed on the desk all shared that same quality. The one thing that truly stood out was the enormous window opposite the door, through which one could easily overlook the great lake outside Durmstrang, as well as the vivid green grass beyond it, still lush despite it being November.
"The champions have finally arrived."
The other four judges of the Tournament were already seated there, and looked to have been waiting for some time. Besides them, there was also a fifth person in the room—a rather frail-looking old man. Wrapped in a fur coat, he looked almost like clothes draped over a hanger. His face was frighteningly gaunt, his eye sockets deeply sunken, yet the eyes set within them shone brightly, making him look surprisingly vigorous.
Karkaroff stood first and smiled at the four of them as he explained,
"Wand inspection is an indispensable part of the Triwizard Tournament. First, because we must confirm whether your wands are fully functional and in proper condition—after all, in the tasks ahead, your wands will be your most important tools. Second, because it also helps prevent cheating. Adding all sorts of hidden little functions to a wand is a method many people are rather fond of using..."
"And to ensure the authenticity and fairness of the results, I have especially invited Mr. Gregorovitch to oversee this inspection. I believe his great name needs no lengthy introduction from me..."
"You flatter me, Professor Karkaroff."
The gaunt old man—Gregorovitch, the wand master whose reputation rivaled Ollivander's—rose and walked straight over to the three champions at the door.
"Then I will need to examine your wands one by one. Please take them out for me... We'll start with you first, I believe your name is... Viktor Krum, is that correct?"
"Oh, this is one of my own works... hornbeam, containing dragon heartstring, yes?"
He examined the wand with some delight.
"Much thicker than most people are accustomed to seeing... very rigid... ten and a quarter inches... Avis!"
The hornbeam wand gave a loud crack, almost like a pistol firing, and a flock of little birds burst from the tip, flapping their wings as they flew out through the open window into the pale sunlight.
"Quite excellent."
Gregorovitch returned the wand to Krum. Then he took Fleur's wand from her and studied it carefully, spending far longer on it than he had on the previous one.
"Nine and a half inches... excellent flexibility... rosewood... Veela hair?"
"That is my grandmother's hair."
Fleur smiled.
"Then this must be the wand best suited to you, young lady."
Gregorovitch smiled and tested several spells before handing it back.
"Wands with Veela hair are usually a touch too sensitive, but if they find a wielder whose heart—or even bloodline—truly resonates with them, then the result is an entirely different scene... Hmm?"
As he spoke, he took the wand Avada handed him. But the moment he merely touched it, his brows twisted together sharply.
"This wand..."
"What is it?"
A slight jolt ran through Avada. He immediately remembered what had happened when he first chose this wand. He also sneaked a glance at Dumbledore—and sure enough, Dumbledore's expression had also turned somewhat subtle.
"It is... very peculiar."
Gregorovitch looked as though he had just swallowed a lemon whole.
"A peculiarity I have never seen before. A state somewhere between being mastered and masterless, yet the reason it has not fully recognized its master is not due to rejection on the wand's part. On the contrary, it has been doing everything in its power to cooperate with its owner, and yet..."
He seemed to try to organize the strange feeling into words, then appeared to give up. After a moment of silence, he finally looked up again.
"Judging from the style, this should be one of Ollivander's creations... ten and three-quarter inches, acacia wood, phoenix feather, correct?"
"That's right."
Avada nodded and took the wand back from Gregorovitch. He had the distinct feeling that the old man was deliberately avoiding his gaze.
(End of Chapter)