Chapter 580: A Wand Chooses a Pure Heart
The Ollivander family was Britain’s oldest lineage of wand makers. Their shop, nestled in Diagon Alley, had long been the first stop for every child heading to Hogwarts, where they would purchase their very first wand.
Now, the white-haired old man stood at the center of the room, his purpose clear—testing the champions’ wands to ensure they were in perfect condition before the tournament began.
One by one, the champions stepped forward, handing over their wands for inspection.
"Blackthorn, twelve and a quarter inches, phoenix feather… Ah, a remarkably supple wand…" Ollivander murmured gently, flicking the wand with a delicate motion. A burst of golden sparks flared from its tip. "Well-maintained. No issues, child."
He handed the wand back to Olga of Kodostoriz. The red-haired boy flinched slightly at the word child.
Natalia stepped forward with light, eager steps, offering her own wand.
Wade, Harry, and Cedric sat together while waiting. Harry watched Cedric’s wand—shining brilliantly—and nervously wiped his own wand repeatedly with his sleeve.
"I've completely forgotten to maintain it lately," Harry sighed. "Too many incidents. One thing after another—I lose track."
"Good thing I polished mine last night," Cedric grinned.
Wade glanced at them, his fingers idly spinning his wand. He exchanged a quiet glance with Rita Skeeter, seated nearby.
Ollivander’s pace was swift. Soon it was Cedric’s turn, then Harry—his face lighting up instantly, his testing time far longer than anyone else’s. Finally, it was Wade’s turn.
Wade had assumed Ollivander wouldn’t remember him. After all, he had once been just another ordinary first-year from the Muggle world, his wand unremarkable in origin.
But as Wade approached, Ollivander’s eyes brightened, his face breaking into a warm, crinkled smile—his wrinkles deepening with recognition.
"Oh, it’s you," he said, first glancing at the wand, then meeting Wade’s gaze. "I remember this one—poplar wood, unicorn tail hair, twelve inches long, correct?"
"Yes," Wade replied, handing over the wand. "Your memory is astonishing, Mr. Ollivander."
"Poplar wood and unicorn hair are both common wand materials," Ollivander said, tilting his head slightly. "But their combination is rare. Few wizards are suited to wield such a wand—it demands great precision."
He bowed his head, his long fingers gliding slowly over the smooth surface of the wand.
"Excuse me," Karkaroff, the headmaster of Durmstrang, suddenly leaned forward, his eyes fixed on Ollivander. "I recall a theory—poplar wood and unicorn hair tend to choose wizards of pure hearts, kind spirits. Is that true?"
Ollivander looked up, his silver-white eyes piercing, like two transparent mirrors reflecting the man’s inner thoughts.
"Yes," he replied, not quite answering the question. "A wand chooses its wizard. In its own way."
"Oh, thank you," Karkaroff said smoothly, satisfied. He settled back into his seat, glancing at Dumbledore with a confident, relaxed smile.
The other headmasters and champions, their eyes now softened by Wade’s presence—especially the girls, whose gazes were tender and smiling—seemed to regard him with newfound warmth.
Wade didn’t need a mastery of Legilimency to know what was happening. These people were friendly because they saw him as harmless. They viewed him as a gentle, forgiving soul—something like a saint who could turn the other cheek.
He glanced at Dumbledore. The old man remained calm and serene, as if he hadn’t sensed the subtle undercurrents in Karkaroff’s question.
Only Harry seemed slightly uneasy, though his small frame made the expression easy to miss.
"Your wand is in excellent condition, child," Ollivander said, waving the wand once more. Instantly, cool snowflakes appeared midair, drifting down gently from above.
Then, he returned the wand to Wade.
"Mr. Babuaya Okondo of Wagadoo, you’re next."
Wade slid his wand back into its holster and returned to his seat. Cedric looked at him with mock regret.
"Wade, did the Sorting Hat ever consider putting you in Hufflepuff?"
Wade blinked.
"...No one’s judged solely by their wand’s selection, is it?" he replied, leaning forward, feigning casualness.
"True," Cedric smiled. "I’ve never met anyone more devoted to knowledge."
"Exactly," Wade said, a faint, knowing smirk playing on his lips. "Which is why I’m in Ravenclaw."
The wand-testing took just over an hour. Then came the photographs.
The photographer and Rita Skeeter worked tirelessly to capture the perfect shot, spending ages arranging the lighting and positions.
After the group photo was finished, the referees departed. But Rita wasn’t done—she pulled each champion aside for individual portraits, one by one, insisting they stay until their turn was over.
Wade was left last.
When he finally finished, the classroom was empty save for the three of them.
"Henry," Rita said, eyeing the photographer who was already heading toward the door, "why don’t you go take a panoramic shot of Hogwarts? I’m sure our readers would love to see the champions dining together in the Great Hall."
She waved the man off with a few casual words, then pulled out a fresh scroll and a Quick-Write Feather Quill.
"Mr. Gray," she asked, "may I have a few minutes of your time for a private interview?"
Wade glanced at Henry, who was now disappearing through the door. "Of course."
"From what I understand," Rita began, adopting a professional tone, "you’re significantly younger than most of the other competitors. What inspired you to enter this tournament? You know… many champions have died in the past."
Wade feigned deep thought, waiting until Henry was out of earshot.
"Alright," he said, turning to her. "What do you really want to say?"
"An interview!" Rita waved her scroll dramatically. "You’ve still got that exclusive interview coming to me—remember?"
Wade hesitated. "When exactly?"
The moment the words left his lips, he remembered. He had agreed to something like this.
"Oh?" Rita arched both eyebrows. "Shall I pull out my own memory and refresh your recollection?"
"Never mind," Wade waved it off. "What do you want to ask?"
Rita stared into his eyes for a beat—then suddenly changed her mind.
"Oh, I’ve reconsidered. I think I’ll save this interview for when you win. A victory story will be far more valuable."
Wade narrowed his eyes slightly. "You heard Ollivander, then. My wand is poplar wood with unicorn tail hair."
"Yes," she said, handing him the entire stack of parchment. "But I trust my own eyes more. This is the intelligence you wanted—there’s been quite a bit of major incident lately. Keep it. Read it at your leisure."
(End of Chapter)
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