Chapter 19

The Weighing of the Wands: Part 2

KIARA

And so, the door opened, and the person who knocked happened to be Colleen McCreevy; she edged into the room, beaming at me, and walked up to Triphorm's desk at the front of the room.

"Yes?" said Triphorm curtly.

"Please, ma'am, I'm supposed to take Kiara Pride-Lander upstairs."

Triphorm stared down her hooked nose at Colleen, whose smile faded from her eager face.

"Pride-Lander has another hour of Potions to complete," said Triphorm coldly. "She will go upstairs when this class is finished."

Colleen went pink.

"Ma'am - ma'am, Miss Baxter wants her," she said nervously. "All the Champions have to go. I think they want to take photographs ..."

I would have given anything I owned to have stopped Colleen saying those last few words. I chanced half a glance at Chrissie, but Chrissie was staring determinedly at the ceiling.

"Very well, very well," Triphorm snapped. "Pride-Lander, leave your things here, I want you back down here later to test your antidote."

"Please, ma'am - she's got to take her things with her," squeaked Colleen. "All the Champions - "

"Very well!" said Triphorm. "Pride-Lander - take your bag and get out of my sight!"

I swung my bag over my shoulder, got up and headed for the door. As I walked through the Snake-Eyes desks, PRIDE-LANDER STINKS flashed at me from every direction.

"It's amazing, isn't it, Kiara?" said Colleen, starting to speak the moment I had closed the dungeon door behind me. "Isn't it, though? You being Champion?"

"Yeah, really amazing," I said heavily, as we set off towards the steps into the Entrance Hall. "What do they want the pictures for, Colleen?"

"The Daily Squabbler, I think!"

"Great," I said dully. "Exactly what I need. More publicity."

"Good luck!" said Colleen, when we had reached the right room. I knocked on the door, and entered.

I was in a fairly small classroom; most of the desks had been pushed away to the back of the room, leaving a large space in the middle; three of them, however, had been placed, end to end, in front of the blackboard, and were covered with a long length of velvet. Five chairs had been set behind the velvet-covered desks, and Lynn Baxter was sitting in one of them, talking to a wizard I had never seen before, who was wearing magenta robes.

Kovu Outsider was standing moodily in a corner as usual, and was not talking to anybody. Georgia and Ferdinand were in conversation. Ferdinand looked a good deal happier than I had seen him since he had first arrived at Dragon Mort; he kept throwing back his head so that his long black hair caught the light. A paunchy woman, holding a large black camera which was smoking slightly, was watching Ferdinand out of the corner of her eye.

Baxter suddenly spotted me, got up quickly and bounced forwards. "Ah, here she is! Champion number four! In you come, Kiara, in you come ... nothing to worry about, it's just the Wand Weighing ceremony, the rest of the judges will be here in a moment - "

"Wand Weighing?" I repeated nervously.

"We have to check your wands are fully functional, no problems, you know, as they're you're most important tools in the tasks ahead," said Baxter. "The expert's upstairs now with Crighton. And then there's going to be a little photo shoot. This is Peter Meter," she added, gesturing towards the wizard in magenta robes, "he's doing a small piece on the Tournament for the Daily Squabbler ..."

"Maybe not that small, Lynn," said Peter Meter, his eyes on me.

His hair was set in elaborately and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with his heavy-jawed face. He wore jewelled spectacles. The thick, knobbly fingers clutching his crocodile-skin satchel ended in short nails that wriggled mischievously.

"I wonder if I could have a little word with Kiara before we start?" he said to Baxter, but still gazing fixedly at me. "The youngest Champion, you know ... to add a bit of colour?"

"Certainly!" cried Baxter. "That is - if Kiara has no objections?"

"Er - " I said.

"Lovely," said Peter Meter, and in a second his thick, taloned fingers had my upper arm in a surprisingly strong grip, and he was steering me out of the room again, and opening a nearby door.

"We don't want to be in there with all that noise," he said. "Let's see ... ah, yes, this is nice and cosy."

It was a broom cupboard. I stared at him.

"Come along, darling - that's right - lovely," said Peter Meter again, perching himself precariously upon an upturned bucket, pushing me down onto a cardboard box and closing the door, throwing us into darkness. "Let's see now ..."

He opened up his crocodile-skin satchel and pulled out a handful of candles, which he lit with a wave of his wand and magicked into mid-air, so that we could see what we were doing.

"You won't mind, Kiara, if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to you normally ..."

"A what?" I said.

Peter Meter's smile widened. I counted three gold teeth. He reached again into his crocodile satchel, and drew out a long, acid-green quill and a roll of parchment, which he stretched out between us on a crate of Mrs Skower's All-Purpose Magical Mess-Remover. He put the tip of the green quill into his mouth, sucked it for a moment with apparent relish, then placed it upright on the parchment, where it stood balanced on its point, quivering slightly.

"Testing ... my name is Peter Meter, Daily Squabbler reporter."

I looked down quickly at the quill. The moment Peter Meter had spoken, the green quill had started to scribble, skidding across the parchment:

Attractive, blond Peter Meter, forty-three, whose savage quill has punctured many inflated reputations -

"Lovely," said Peter Meter, yet again, and he ripped the top of the parchment off, crumpled it up and stuffed it into his satchel. He then leant towards me and said, "So, Kiara ... what made you decide to enter the Triwizard Tournament?"

"Er - " I said again, but I was distracted by the quill. Even though I wasn't speaking, it was dashing across the parchment, and in its wake I made out a fresh sentence:

An ugly scar, souvenir of a tragic past, disfigures the otherwise pretty face of Kiara Pride-Lander, whose eyes -

"Ignore the quill, Kiara," said Peter Meter firmly. I reluctantly raised my eyes to his instead. "Now - why did you decide to enter the Tournament, Kiara?"

"I didn't," I said. "I don't know how my name got into the Goblet of Fire. I didn't put it in there."

Peter Meter raised one thin eyebrow. "Come now, Kiara, there's no need to be scared of getting into trouble. We all know you shouldn't really have entered at all. But don't worry about that. Our readers love a rebel."

"But I didn't enter," I repeated. "I don't know who - "

"How do you feel about the tasks ahead?" said Peter Meter. "Excited? Nervous? Scared?"

"I hadn't really thought ... yeah, nervous and scared, I suppose. My insides squirmed uncomfortably when I spoke to him.

"Champions have died in the past, haven't they?" said Peter Meter briskly. "Have you thought about that at all?"

"Well ... they say it's going to be a lot safer this year," I said.

The quill whizzed across the parchment between us, back and forth as though it was skating.

"Of course, you've looked death in the face before, haven't you?" said Peter Meter, watching me closely. "How would you say that's affected you?"

"Er - " I said, yet again.

"Do you think that the trauma in your past might have made you keen to prove yourself? To live up to your name? Do you think that perhaps you were tempted to enter the Triwizard Tournament because - "

"I didn't enter," I said. I was starting to feel irritated with him by this point.

"Can you remember your parents at all?" said Peter Meter, talking over me.

"No," I said. I wanted to tell him that I'd spoken to my parents the previous year, but then I remembered that if I did, I would have to reveal about how myself and Sian had helped them escape, which would get us all in trouble. So I kept quiet.

"How do you think they'll feel when they find out that you're competing in the Triwizard Tournament? Proud? Worried? Angry?"

"Well ... they'll be worried about me, obviously," I said, feeling really annoyed by this time. After all, which parents would not be worried for their child, being unwillingly forced into something as dangerous as the Triwizard Tournament? I felt Peter Meter watching me very intently. Frowning, I avoided his gaze and looked down at the words the quill had just written.

Tears fill those startlingly dark amber eyes as our conversation turns to the parents she can barely remember.

"I have not got tears in my eyes!" I said loudly.

Before Peter could say another word, the door of the broom cupboard was pulled open. I looked around, blinking in the bright light. Susan Crighton stood there, looking down at the two of us squashed into the broom cupboard.

"Crighton!" cried Peter Meter, with every appearance of delight - but I noticed that his quill and the parchment had suddenly vanished from the box of Magical Mess-Remover, and Peter's clawed fingers were hastily snapping his crocodile-skin satchel shut. "How are you?" he said, standing up and holding out one of his large, man hands to Crighton. "I hope you saw my piece over the summer about the International Confederation of Wizards conference?"

"Enchantingly nasty," said Crighton, her eyes twinkling. "I particularly enjoyed your description of me as an obsolete dingbat."

As I looked at Crighton, I thought that there was something off about her. The twinkle in her eyes wasn't as bright as it ordinarily was, her eyes were red and her hair was tied back. Her smile looked very stretched, as though someone was pulling her lips upwards, and she looked older than I had ever seen her (up until that point, anyway). I wondered what could be causing this, and then it hit me: Sian and her mother had fallen out because I was in this Tournament, and Crighton was missing Sian because Sian told her mother that she would ignore her for the rest of this year because Crighton kept me in it. Fortunately enough, Peter Meter didn't seem to notice anything different about her, and carried on talking.

Peter Meter didn't look remotely abashed at Crighton's words. "I was just making the point that some of your ideas are a little old-fashioned, Crighton, and that many wizards in the street - "

"I will be delighted to hear the reason behind the rudeness, Peter," said Crighton, with a courteous curtsey and a smile, "but I'm afraid we will have to discuss the matter later. The Weighing of the Wands is about to start, and it cannot take place if one of our Champions is hidden in a broom cupboard."

I was grateful to get away from Peter Meter, so I hurried back into the room. The other Champions were now sitting in chairs near the door, when I sat down quickly next to Georgia, looking up at the velvet-covered table, where four of the five judges were sitting - Professor Kula, Monsieur Legrand, Mrs Clutch and Miss Baxter. Peter Meter settled himself down in a corner; I saw him slip the parchment out of his satchel again, spread it on his knee, suck the end of his Quick-Quotes Quill, and place it once more on the parchment.

"May I introduce Madam Wandwick?" said Crighton, taking her place at the judges' table and talking to we Champions. "She will be checking your wands to ensure that they are in good condition before the Tournament."

I looked around, and with a jolt of surprise I saw an old witch with large, pale eyes standing quietly by the window. I had met Madam Wandwick once before - she was the wand-maker from whom I had bought my own wand over three years ago in Brickabon Alley.

"Monsieur Desjardins, could we have you forward first, please?" said Madam Wandwick, stepping into the empty space in the middle of the room.

Ferdinand Desjardins swept over to Madam Wandwick, and handed her his wand.

"Hmmm ..." she said.

She twirled the wand between her long fingers like a baton and it emitted a number of blue and silver sparks. Then she held it close to her eyes and examined it carefully.

"Yes," she said quietly, "ten and a half inches ... inflexible ... rosewood ... and containing ... dear me ..."

"An 'air from ze 'ead of a Coltee," said Ferdinand. "One of my grandfazzer's."

So now you know that Ferinand is part Coltee. I remembered making a mental note to tell Chrissie ... but then I remembered that Chrissie wasn't talking to me at that point in my life. Just so you know, I told Chrissie about it years later, and needless to say Sian, Chrissie and I have teased Chris about this ever since - but we're getting off topic here.

"Yes," said Madam Wandwick, "yes, I've never used Coltee hair myself, of course. I find it makes for rather temperamental wands ... however, to each their own, and if this suits you ..."

Madam Wandwick ran her fingers along the wand, apparently checking for scratches or bumps, then she muttered, "Orchideous!" and a bunch of flowers burst from the wand tip.

"Very well, very well, it's in fine working order," said Madam Wandwick, scooping up the flowers and handing them to Ferdinand with his wand. "Miss Diggs, you next."

Ferdinand glided back to his seat, smiling at Georgia as she passed him.

"Ah, now, this is one of mine, isn't it?" said Madam Wandwick with much more enthusiasm, as Georgia handed over her 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," said Georgia, grinning.

I looked down at my own wand, and saw finger prints all over it; so I gathered a fistful of my robe from my knee and tried to rub it clean surreptitiously. I only stopped when several gold sparks shot out of the end of it, and Ferdinand Desjardins gave me a very patronising look.

Madam Wandwick sent a stream of silver smoke rings across the room from the tip of Georgia's wand, pronounced herself satisfied, and then said, "Mr Outsider, if you please."

Kovu Outsider got up and strode, round-shouldered and light-footed, towards Madad Wandwick. He thrust his wand out and stood scowling with the hands in the pockets of his robes.

"Hmm," said Madam Wandwick, "this is an Ibori creation, unless I'm much mistaken? A fine wand-maker, though the styling is never quite what I ... however ..."

She lifted the wand and examined it minutely, turning it over and over before her eyes.

"Yes ... hornbeam and dragon heartstring?" she shot at Outsider, who nodded. "Rather thicker than one usually sees ... quite rigid ... ten and a quarter inches ... Avis!"

The hornbeam wand let 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," said Madam Wandwick, handing Outsider back his wand. "Which leaves ... Miss Pride-Lander."

I got to my feet, walked past Outsider to Madam Wandwick and handed her my wand.

"Aaaaah, yes," said Madam Wandwick, her pale eyes suddenly gleaming. "Yes, yes, yes. How well I remember."

I remembered, too. I can remember it as though it had happened only yesterday ...

For those of you who don't recall, allow me to refresh your memories. On my eleventh birthday, I had entered Madam Wandwick's shop to buy a wand. Madam Wandwick had taken my measurements and then started handing me wands to try. I had waved what felt like every wand in the shop, until at last I had found the one that suited me - this one, which was made of holly, eleven inches long, and contained a single feather from the tail of a phoenix. Madam Wandwick had been very surprised that I had been compatible with this wand. "Curious," she had said, "... curious", and not until I asked what was curious had Madam Wandwick explained that the phoenix feather in my wand had come from the same which had supplied the core of Lady Zira's.

Up until now, I have never shared this piece of information with anybody. I am very fond of my wand, and as far as I am concerned it's relation to Zira's wand was something it couldn't help - just like I can't help being related to Aunt Mavuto. I really hoped that Madam Wandwick wasn't about to tell the whole room about it. I had a funny feeling that Peter Meter's Quick-Quotes Quill might just explode with excitement if she did.

Madam Wandwick spent much longer examining my wand than anyone else's. Eventually though, she made a fountain of water shoot out of it, and handed it back to me, announcing that it was still in perfect condition.

"Thank you all," said Crighton, 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 - "

I felt that something had finally gone right that day, but as I stood up to leave, the woman with the black camera jumped up and cleared her throat.

"Photos, Crighton, photos!" cried Baxter excitedly. "All the judges and Champions. What do you think, Peter?"

"Er - yes, let's do those first," said Peter Meter, whose eyes were on me again. "And then perhaps some individual shots?"

The photos took an annoyingly long time to do. Monsieur Legrand cast everyone else into shadow wherever he stood, and the photographer couldn't stand far enough back to get him into the frame; eventually he had to sit whilst the rest of us stood around him. Kula kept twirling a piece of her hair to give it an extra curl; I would have thought that Outsider was used to this sort of thing by now, but I was wrong, for he skulked, half-hidden, at the back of our group. The photographer seemed keenest to get Ferdinand at the front, but Peter Meter kept hurrying forwards and dragging me into the greater prominence. Then he insisted on separate shots of myself and my fellow Champions. At long last, we were free to go.

I went down to dinner. Chris wasn't there, nor was Sian - I suspected that she was still in the hospital wing having her teeth fixed. I ate alone at the end of the table, then returned to Lion-Heart Tower, thinking of all the extra Summoning Charms I had to do. When I got to the common room, I found Chris in a chair by the fire waiting for me. He smiled when he saw me.

"Kiara," he said, "how did it go?"

"Not bad," I said, shrugging. "Just a Wand Weighing ceremony, to check our wands were in perfect condition. Then we had some photos taken, and boy, did that take a while to do - the photographer and Peter Meter - yes, I met him - kept arguing about who should be up front, me or Ferdinand Desjardins."

Chris looked at me sympathetically as I slumped into the chair next to him. "So, what's Peter Meter like?"

"Very, very annoying," I said. "I hardly got a single word in because he kept talking over me - and he kept making stuff up. So when the article comes out, don't believe a word of it."

"I won't," Chris said, simply and honestly. I just looked at him.

"I know you, Kiara," he said. "I know you don't want this, and I know that you would have answered as honestly as you could have if he'd let you. Don't let him get to you, that's all you can do." He smiled at me and I smiled back. I then asked him if anything new had happened.

"First of all, this came for you earlier," he said, holding up a letter that he had clutched in his hand that I hadn't seen there before. "He's my owl, so it was pretty easy to take the letter from him before he took off for the Owlery. Oh, and you, Chrissie and I are doing our detentions tomorrow night in Triphorm's dungeon," he added in a not-so-cheerful voice as he handed me the letter. I opened it up, as Chris scooted closer to me to read it with me.

Kiara -

We can't say everything we would like to in this letter, for it's too risky in case the owl is intercepted - we need to talk, face to face. Can you ensure that you are alone by the fire in Lion-Heart Tower at one o'clock in the morning on the 24th November?

Your mother and I know better than anyone that you can look after yourself, and while you're around Crighton and Grumpy, we don't think anyone will be able to hurt you. However, saying that someone seems to be having a good try. Entering you in that Tournament would have been risky, especially right under Crighton's nose.

Be on the watch, Kiara. Your mother and I still want to hear about anything unusual. Let us know about the 24th November as quickly as you can.

Lots of love,

Hugs and kisses,

Daddy and Mum