"And where might Harry be?" asked Professor Dumbledore, peering over his crescent moon glasses in an attempt to find him.
"Rita took him outside for a short interview," answered Bagman. "I'm sure they haven't gone far."
"I see," said Professor Dumbledore, his eyes no longer quite as twinkly as they usually were; and then he promptly exited the room.
"Well, let's get everything in place while we wait for our last champion," said Bagman cheerfully.
Bagman had the four remaining judges sit at a table opposite the door, Mr. Ollivander stand in the middle of the room, and the three champions sit on some chairs next to the door.
A few minutes later, Professor Dumbledore returned, an irritated-looking Harry and a smiling Rita Skeeter in tow. Harry sat in the empty chair next to Oleandra, while Dumbledore took his seat at the centre of the judges' table.
"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Professor Dumbledore said to the champions. "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament."
"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you forward first, please?" said Mr. Ollivander.
Fleur Delacour gracefully got up to her feet and handed Ollivander her wand, who examined it closely.
"Hmm… Yes," he muttered. "Nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"
"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Veela," said Fleur. "One of my grandmuzzer's."
It turned out that Delacour was part Veela; Oleandra looked at her curiously; the only other person she knew that wasn't fully human was her own sister, who had restored her bloodline origin: she was now half Wood Nymph, just like the founder of the Greengrass family. Well, she also sometimes joked that Marcus Flint was part troll, but maybe he was just a human born with the face of a brute.
Now that she thought about it, Madame Maxime, who was sitting right before her, was just as freakishly tall as Professor Hagrid. Could it be…?
Mr. Ollivander continued examining Delacour's wand for a while, derisively remarking that Veela hair made for temperamental wands, before making a bouquet of flowers burst from the wand tip ("Orchideus!"), and declaring that the wand worked fine before handing it back to her.
"Miss Greengrass, you next."
Fleur swept over back to her seat, smirking at Oleandra on the way. What an irksome woman!
Oleandra now had a choice; either she owned up to stealing back her things, or she dug herself further in her lies, potentially preventing herself from using a wand in the first task. She decided on the latter; if she relied solely on runic magic, then she didn't need a wand. Even so, runes weren't nearly as flexible as ordinary Wizard spells; what if they asked her to do something she needed a wand for?
Oleandra stepped forward and faced Ollivander, making no move to retrieve her wand from her pouch, where she had temporarily hidden it.
"Well?" asked Mr. Ollivander impatiently. "Your wand, if you please? A Gregorovitch original, if I remember correctly?"
"Just a question," said Oleandra to the judges behind Ollivander. "Am I allowed to use a borrowed wand for the first task?"
"The rules clearly state that you must face the first task armed with nothing but your wand," said Mr. Crouch distantly. "Yours, not anyone else's."
"That's a no, then?" Oleandra said matter-of-factly. "In that case, I have no wand; you got mine burnt to ashes yourself, Mr. Crouch."
As soon as those words left her mouth, Oleandra felt a wave of dizziness wash over her; but the feeling quickly passed.
"The rules are the rules," Crouch simply stated back.
An awkward silence filled the classroom; punctuated only by the furious scribbling of Rita Skeeter's magical quill writing on a piece of parchment by itself. Professor Dumbledore leaned forward in his seat.
"Miss Greengrass," he said in a serious tone, "I hope you realize the gravity of your situation; but just in case you haven't, let me remind you that you represent Hogwarts as a whole. Never in the history of the Triwizard tournament has anyone competed without a wand."
"I, er— yes. I do realize that," said Oleandra. "But not to worry, I have a plan."
"Very well, then," said Professor Dumbledore, a small smile forming on his lips. "In that case, you may sit back down."
The other judges, apart from Mr. Crouch, all looked like they wanted to laugh at her; but as it would have been unbefitting of their station to do so, all they could do was stare bemusedly at her, lips twitching slightly.
"Mr. Krum, if you please," said Mr. Ollivander.
Viktor Krum scowled and stalked over to the wandmaker, seemingly reluctant at the idea of letting another person touch his wand. Krum's wand had also been made by Gregorovitch; like Oleandra's wand; even though Mr. Ollivander had been the one to sell it to her.
Ollivander's policy was to never let a customer leave the shop without a wand that suited them; and if an old wand he had purchased years ago for research purposes had chosen her, then so be it!
"Avis!"
Mr. Ollivander used the Bird Summoning Charm, causing a number of small twittering birds to shoot out of Krum's wand. Satisfied with its performance, he handed it back to its owner.
"Which leaves… Mr. Potter," Mr. Ollivander finally said.
So far, the wandmaker's expression had remained mostly neutral, though almost imperceptible flickers in his facial expressions betrayed his utter contempt for the foreign wands' make. But now that he was examining one of his own wands, he was much more enthusiastic…
And before she knew it, Harry had got his wand back from Mr. Ollivander, who had declared it to be in perfect working order. But as Oleandra and the other champions made to leave, the weighing being over, the photographer made himself known with a loud cough; he still had a job to do!
By the time the photo session ended, Oleandra and Harry had missed the entirety of their Potions class. For some reason, Rita Skeeter kept having them redo their poses, dragging Harry next to her, and Madame Maxime was so tall she was impossible to keep in frame!