The Weighing of the Wands

I was cornered right now. surrounded by the other champions as they looked down upon me. Although whatever Fleur Delacour was currently doing, flipping her hair and rolling her eyes, couldn't be considered looking at me at all.

Mr Ollivander fingered my wand, like a mad man. He too was judging me right now.

"9 and 1/2 inches. Just a hair shorter than Miss Delacour's. Making it the shortest of everyones," said olivander. How embarassing, my cheeks were growing red.

"Well it may be a little shorter than others," I said, "but It's thick, very desirable thickness." The other champion's snorted as Potter had reemerged from his interview with Rita Skinner.

"About average in thickness, with a dual platypus hair core, made from the wood of a fig. Very tough wood to work with. Though this curve almost gives it more character" He tapped it against the desk, trying to tap out a certain rythm.

"Well it's very rough wood, very masculine and unyielding," I said. My eyes looked at Ollivander pleadingly. He shrugged his shoulders.

"If you say so Mr. Halfhwit," said Ollivander. He brushed the wood against a book, and watched as violet words were etched out. "Everything seems to be in order."

Harry Potter sat after I stood, eyeing me as if I had the plague. Fleur cleared space for me, but turned her back almost instantly. She hadn't even said a word to me in all this time.

which was fine. I did my best to ignore her. Even though being around her was testing my will to openly ogle her.

Within moments we were all posing for a picture.

And when we were done, Rita Skeeter was motioning for me to come to her.