Disclaimer: I hold no rights over the Harry Potter series or the Danny Phantom series. Any and all direct quotes and texts belong to J. K. Rowling and are used for entertainment purposes only and not for profit or any additional benefits.

ΔOl

Chapter Eighteen: The Weighing of the Wands II

"May I introduce Mr. Ollivander?" Dumbledore announced, lowering himself into his place at the judges' table, "He will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the tournament."

Harry looked around, and with a jolt of surprise saw an old wizard with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. There was Mr. Ollivander, who Harry had purchased his first wand from and who had revealed to the bewildered eleven year old that he really was magic all those years ago in Diagon Alley.

"Mademoiselle Delacour, could we have you first, please?" asked Mr. Ollivander, his hand already held out in an expectant manner as he crossed to the middle of the room.

Fleur Delacour swept herself up and proudly pronounced her wand.

Ollivander held it in front of himself, staring intently at it, "Hmm…" he twirled the wand between his long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of pink and gold sparks. Then he held it close to his face, as if trying to peer into it.

"Yes," he murmured quietly, "Nine and a half inches… inflexible… rosewood… and containing… dear me…"

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a veela," Fleur stated fondly, "One of my grandmuzzer's."

So Fleur was part veela, thought Harry, making a mental note to tell Ron… only to remember that Ron wasn't taking to him.

"Yes," said Mr. Ollivander, "Yes, I've never used veela hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands… however, to each his own, and if it this suits you…"

Mr. Ollivander ran his fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps; then he muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of tulips burst from the wand tip.

He seemed satisfied with the result, "Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," he said, snatching the flowers and passing them to Fleur along with her wand, "Mr. Diggory, you're next."

Fleur glided back to her seat, smiling at Cedric as he passed her. Harry bit back a snort when Danny next to him was mistakenly hit in the face with Fleur's bouquet as she returned to her seat, making him sneeze.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Mr. Ollivander, with much more enthusiasm, as Cedric handed over his wand, "Yes, I remember it well. Containing a single hair from the tail of a particularly fine male unicorn… must have been seventeen hands; nearly gored me with his horn after I plucked his tail. Twelve and a quarter inches… ash… pleasantly springy. It's in fine condition… You treat it regularly?"

"Polished it last night," grinned Cedric.

Harry looked down at his wand. It was covered in fingerprints and what he could only guess was margarine from breakfast that morning. He gathered a fistful of robe from his knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. Several gold sparks shot out of the end of it. Danny gave him an amused look, Fleur stared down at him patronisingly, and he desisted.

Ringlets of smoke poured out of the end of Cedric's wand, circling the room, and Mr. Ollivander pronounced himself satisfied.

"Mr. Krum, if you please."

Viktor Krum dragged himself from his seat, hunched over and duck-footed, toward Mr. Ollivander. He thrust his wand into the proffered hand and stood scowling, hands shoved into the pockets of his robes.

Mr. Ollivander hummed again, "This is a Gregorovich creation, unless I'm mistaken? A fine wandmaker, though the style is never quite what I… however…"

He eyed the wand critically with what Harry could only describe as suspicion, turning it over and over before his eyes.

"Yes, hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" he shot at Krum, who grunted, "Rather thicker than one usually sees… quite rigid… ten and a quarter inches… Avis!"

The hornbeam wand set off a blast like a gun, and a number of small, twittering birds flew out of the end and through the open window into the watery sunlight.

"Good," Mr. Ollivander nodded as the birds flew into the horizon, handing back Krum's wand, "Two more? Very well, come on, Mr. Potter."

Harry got to his feet as Krum slouched back into his chair and walked up to Mr. Ollivander, handing him his wand.

"Aaaah, yes," said Mr. Ollivander, his pale eyes suddenly gleaming, "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

Harry could remember too. He could remember it as though it happened yesterday.

Mr. Ollivander spent much longer examining Harry's wand than anyone else's. Eventually, however, he made a fountain of wine shoot out of it, and handed it back to Harry, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Lastly, Mr. Fenton?"

Harry slipped back into his seat as Danny passed him, handing Mr. Ollivander a thin, long wand that resembled a jagged strip of charcoal crudely hewn onto shining white bone. Mr. Ollivander stared at it unblinking as he twirled it in his hands, studying it so hard that Harry suspected that he was trying to see through the wand.

"Curious indeed," Mr. Ollivander muttered, "This wand has not been in your possession for long, has it, Mr. Fenton?"

"Only three years," Danny admitted with a blush, "My first wand refused to work partway through fourth grade."

"The will of a wand can change with the will of its master. It's not uncommon," Mr. Ollivander waved him off, "It is an old practise to use more than one wood for a wand, however. It's a lost art, many wandmakers have died from it – it makes wands highly impractical and very volatile. It takes a particular kind of wizard to handle a cross-wood."

Harry watched curiously as Danny set his jaw in challenge. Mr. Ollivander's mouth was a taut line but his eyes danced, "Yew is a powerful wood – very dangerous if not wielded properly. And you are aware that blackwood is traditionally not used in wandmaking, yes? It lacks any magical properties; its only purpose would be to channel magic directly from a wizard, which can be very treacherous indeed."

Danny opened his mouth, but Mr. Ollivander ignored him, turning his attention back to the wand, "Four hundred years old, sturdy, inflexible… eleven and a half inches…"

Mr. Ollivander stared expectantly at Danny, who suddenly appeared rather indignant and embarrassed.

"It's Threstal," he muttered.

Recognition and wonder seemed to flicker across Mr. Ollivander's face, "Aaaah, I see. There was only one known wandmaker that ever experimented with Threstal hairs outside of lore."

He delicately handed Danny his wand back, "I believe that this particular wand will not be receptive to my efforts. If you could do the honours, Mr. Fenton."

Danny swished his wand, and a torrent of wind flurried throughout the room, tugging ferociously at Harry's hair and robes, making him squint as it scratched dryly at his eyes; Madam Maxime gave out a surprised cry and Karkaroff swore violently, before the wind died down as quickly as it came.

Mr. Ollivander clapped his hands excitedly, "Brilliant! Absolutely fantastic. I never believed I would get the opportunity to witness the craftsmanship of such a wonder as Clockwork. Truly impressive; a wandmaker who defied time and age."

Mr. Ollivander shooed Danny back to his seat, who looked rather relieved, collapsing into it.

"Thank you all," said Dumbledore, standing up at the judges' table, "You may go back to your lessons now – or perhaps it would be quicker just to go down to dinner, as they are about to end—"

Feeling as though something had gone right today, Harry got up to leave, but the man with the black camera hidden in the shadows next to Rita Skeeter jumped up and cleared his throat.

"Photos, Dumbledore! Photos!" cried Bagman, excitedly, "All the judges and champions, what do you think, Rita?"

"Er – yes, let's do those first," said Rita Skeeter, whose eyes were upon Harry again, "And then perhaps some individual shots," her gleaming stare swivelled to Danny next, who looked slightly sick.

"Very well," Bagman clapped his hands, "Everyone, line up! Come along now!"

ΔOl

I researched and wrote this chapter in just a few hours. It is one in the morning and I am absolutely exhausted. This chapter was inspired by a reviewer who questioned what Danny's wand would be. To be honest I hadn't even considered the concept (stupidly) and while I didn't go as wild with the wand cores as the reviewer suggested (although they were really rather helpful), I feel I found an even balance as to what Danny's wand should be.

Clockwork made a sort of appearance in this story – he was a wandmaker centuries ago (possibly before he became a 'ghost'). He seems wise enough. I also believe along with being a wandmaker, Clockwork would have been a seer since he looks into the future and past so often.

To break down Danny's wand: it is forms primarily of yew, which is the wood that Voldemort's first wand was made of. It claims to endow the possessor with the power of life and death.

The other wood is from one of the rarest trees in the world, called Mpingo, or blackwood – an African tree that is extremely durable and old, often without interference able to grow for over 200 years, and, if you strip back the bark or chop through to the heart of it, is a beautiful ebony tone right through. For Danny, its primary use would be to channel his magic directly from his body, making it dangerous and volatile due to it not being filtered.

Danny's core is made of Threstal tail hair – as most of you would be aware, Threstals are only able to be seen by those who have witnessed death, so I found it rather fitting that Danny would own such a wand. It is also the core of the Elder Wand, which is an interesting detail. Completely irrelevant, but interesting.

Review please! Update will be on Sunday, Australian time, Saturday everywhere else.