Dark_Peace
patreon
Chapter 325: Pre-Tournament Interview and Wand Inspection
🕑 Added 2025-03-16 17:13:24 +0000 UTCTime always seems to pass unnoticed, slipping away day by day.
Before long, November had reached its end.
On the morning before the tournament, all the champions were gathered in a designated classroom within the castle.
As per tradition, before the Triwizard Tournament commenced, the champions' wands had to undergo an official inspection.
---
Second Floor of the Castle
The classroom was spacious, with most of the desks pushed toward the back, leaving ample room in the front.
At the very front of the room, three long tables had been placed side by side, draped in a deep red velvet cloth.
Behind them stood six high-backed chairs.
Since this was a wand inspection, the presence of the only renowned wandmaker in the British Isles, Garrick Ollivander, was inevitable.
Alongside him were five judges: three headmasters, including Dumbledore, and two Ministry officials—Ludo Bagman and Barty Crouch Sr.
Among them, Bagman appeared particularly excited, almost impatient, in contrast to the others' composed demeanor.
Seated quietly at the side, Harry observed the room intently. After enduring rigorous training, he had developed a keen sense of awareness, allowing him to notice every movement without revealing his own thoughts.
Across the room, Ino had already noticed Harry's watchful gaze. His reaction was instinctive—cautious, almost on edge, reminiscent of a younger Mad-Eye Moody.
But Ino didn’t see this as a bad thing. In the original story, Harry’s greatest flaw had always been his reckless nature. Now that he had grown more cautious, it might help him avoid unnecessary trouble.
Bagman suddenly clapped his hands together, drawing everyone’s attention.
"Champions, time is of the essence! If possible, please step forward one by one. You’ll also have an interview with the Daily Prophet shortly, so let's not waste time!"
He then grinned and added playfully, "Of course, if you'd rather draw lots to decide the order, I can arrange that right now."
Glancing around, Bagman’s gaze inevitably landed on Ino.
There was no other choice—among the four champions, the other three all seemed... off.
Krum sat stiffly, his expression wooden. Fleur exuded an air of fragile delicacy. And Harry—Harry was brimming with an almost excessive vigilance.
"Alright, since there's no set order, I'll go first."
Meeting Bagman’s gaze, Ino rose from his seat and walked toward the velvet-covered table, calmly handing his wand to the elderly wandmaker.
"Mr. Ollivander, it's been a while."
"Indeed, it has," Ollivander replied, accepting the wand with great care. A glint of recognition flashed in his eyes. "I still remember the story of the Elder Mother."
After a moment’s observation, he muttered under his breath, "This check is unnecessary… but they insisted. Something about protocol."
His voice was low, but not so much that those nearby couldn’t hear him.
Clearly, he did not think highly of this mandatory inspection, though he refrained from outright voicing his disapproval. Instead, he refocused on the wand in his hands.
Holding it lightly, he gave it a subtle wave. As it sliced through the air, the tip bloomed with a delicate elderflower.
"Elder wood, phoenix feather core, twelve inches, reasonably flexible…"
Ollivander listed the wand’s attributes with practiced ease before passing it to Ludo Bagman.
Bagman barely glanced at it before promptly handing it off to Barty Crouch Sr.
Then, something amusing happened.
While the Ministry officials treated the process as routine, the reactions of the three headmasters varied significantly.
Karkaroff handled the wand as if it were a fragile, burning ember—delicately grasping it with both hands before hurriedly passing it along to Madame Maxime.
Madame Maxime, in contrast, was far less cautious. But that was mostly because her attention wasn’t on the wand at all.
Her gaze lingered on Ino, filled with an unmistakable mixture of admiration and regret.
Ino immediately understood why.
A while back, he had visited the Beauxbatons carriage, bringing books as a gift—while also politely rejecting their offer.
Apparently, Madame Maxime still hadn’t given up.
But this was hardly the time for conversation. With a subtle sigh, she grasped the wand delicately between two fingers and passed it to Dumbledore.
Under the watchful eyes of the others, Dumbledore examined the wand with keen interest—before pulling out his own.
Side by side, the two wands were strikingly similar.
In terms of color, length, even the grain of the elder wood, they were nearly indistinguishable.
A mischievous twinkle appeared in Dumbledore’s eyes. Hiding the wands beneath the table for a brief moment, he then brought them back up and smiled.
"Care to guess which one is yours?"
Ino immediately recognized the playful trick.
It was an obvious test, almost childish.
But instead of pointing it out, he simply played along, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
"Hard to say… they look identical."
Dumbledore chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "I knew you wouldn’t be able to tell!"
The lighthearted exchange earned mixed reactions from the onlookers—mostly expressions of mild exasperation.
Ollivander, however, was outright offended.
A wizard failing to recognize his own wand? To him, that was a complete disgrace.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Ino smiled and said, "Even if I can’t tell them apart, my wand can."
The moment he spoke, one of the two wands suddenly bloomed again—tiny white flowers sprouting along its length.
Dumbledore chuckled, finally handing the wand back.
With the inspection completed, Bagman stood once more.
"Mr. Swinburne, please proceed to the second classroom on the left. A special correspondent from The Daily Prophet is waiting to interview you."
Meanwhile…
Inside the second classroom on the left, Rita Skeeter sat restlessly.
As a special correspondent for The Daily Prophet, she had a knack for uncovering secrets that others preferred to keep hidden.
But the more she uncovered lately, the more uneasy she became.
The once-divided factions within the Ministry of Magic… now seemed to be bound together by an invisible web, drawing tighter by the day.
It was absurd.
And yet, as a journalist with years of experience, Rita had learned to recognize the signs of subtle change—signs that hinted at something far greater looming on the horizon.
For now, things seemed calm. But that was only because the time had not yet come.
She exhaled, running a hand through her golden hair.
"I just hope I can keep up…" she murmured to herself.
The thought of facing the mastermind behind it all—her next interviewee—made her uneasy.
Her fingers tapped against her quill, her nerves betraying her.
A new era was unfolding before her eyes.
And she wasn’t sure if she was ready for it.
