Chapter 2.2- Doom Days (Harry Potter/MCU Crossover)

Diggory acquainted himself well walking across the distance that separated its and the stage, moving through the weight of the eyes watching, even as it was crystal clear that he was not completely at home in the situation. Nervous, but doing a good job of fighting it. Of course, the mere fact that he was nervous in the first place was a display of weakness. Weakness that seemed just as likely to get him killed amongst this lot than anything else.

“Well taken care of,” Ollivander said on picking up the boy’s wand. He turned it over in his hands, running his fingers over it and then placing it next to his ear to listen to some tune that none of us could follow. He nodded, clearly appreciating what he heard.

“ 12 and a quarter inches Ash, and Unicorn Hair. Pleasantly springy. I remember crafting this wand just like it was yesterday. The Unicorn that donated this hair almost gored me through while I attempted collecting it. The Ash wood in this wand also has a unique history. My Grandfather Garrick Ollivander the Second himself was the one to plant the tree I got the wood from.” He said as he moved the wand through expert fingers. And then he abruptly took hold of the wand with both hands and mimed snapping it. Cedric had almost jumped on the Wandmaker in his panic.

“A loyal wand, and it warms me to see that this loyalty is one returned. Cherish her, for she will never work for another” The Wandmaker said, and then almost as if he was contradicting his own words, he waved his wand and conjured a goblet of pure ice that he then animated to float and maintain a position by his head. All that, he did silently.

“She is in good condition, and I pronounce her of fine working order” he said before handing the wand over to Diggory to the applause of the onlookers.

“Next Krum, Victor” Where Diggory had resisted the weight of the stares upon him, Krum did an admirable job of pretending he did not notice them. If not for the fact that the slouch that I’d noticed when he walked alone was missing, I might have even mistaken him for what he pretended to be- aloof and uncaring about the whole thing. His brown fur uniform moved with his frame to add extra bulk to his already burly personage. The man moved on the ground unlike the way he did in the air. It was as if he had been born for one, and forced to spend the most of his life on the other.

When he reached Ollivander, he did not bother with the graceful bow that Diggory had attempted and just handed his wand over with some measure of hesitation.

“10 and a quarter inches. Quite short for a man of your stature” Ollivander said to some titters from the audience, and a slight narrowing of Krum’s eyes.

“Of course, we know not to place much stock in those particular theories. I have crafted wands for decades and seen no such correlation, but that is besides the point,” who knew the old man had such a sense of humour in him. Krum’s eyes had become mere slits with how far he had narrowed them.

“Hornbeam. A good wood. Much more sophisticated than what I would expect from this wand’s particular creator. Without the rigidity, I might have failed to place it as one of Mykew’s. My own wand is made of Hornbeam, did you know?” He said, running the wand along his fingers much in the same way as he had Diggory’s.

“Oh oh. Dragon heartstring. From a stubborn Ukrainian Ironbelly it sounds like. What a wand. Stubborn and singleminded. Like it’s owner? Maybe, maybe” He said, placing the wand to his ear and beginning to mutter words in rapid fire fashion.

“A fine wand, if Mykew has ever crafted any.” He said, before motioning the glass over and then pointing the wand at it harshly. Liquid sprayed from its tip, coating the icy glass and then filling it to the brim. The man reached out with his other hand to grab a hold of the glass and brought it to his lips. He hummed meaningfully around it and then took a long swallow.

“I find this wand to be in good condition and I pronounce it of fine working order” He said and then gave the wand over to Krum. Once again, applause followed.

“Delacour, Fluer” He called out next and while Krum and Diggory had done their level best to feign disinterest at the stares that followed them, the Beauxbatons witch did the opposite. She waved out to the crowd, causing flashes to appear as several of the cameramen worked to take a picture of her ascent to the stage. When she reached, she gave a graceful curtsy to Ollivander that I could just tell would be on the front page of many a paper tomorrow, and handed over her wand with a respectful gesture.

“Oh oh. Unique. I do not recognise the make” He said first of all, turning the wand over his fingers and assessing every inch of it.

“It was made by-“ The silver haired witch began, but was cut off as the old Wandmaker continued heedless of the fact she had begun to speak, making her flush.

“Nine and a half inches. Shorter even than Mr. Krum’s but less a worry in this particular case” He moved the wand out of the way to give her a meaningful once-over. The crowd loved it, and a few of the photographers dissolved into open laughter at his words.

“Rosewood, is it? How fascinating. Not one of those I work with. And inflexible. Oh so inflexible. Almost as rigid as Krum’s. Singleminded stubbornness is to be the common trait amongst our champions this year, it seems,” he said, drawing more tittering from the crowd. Who knew the old man could be personable?

A/N; Yes, I am messing with Ollivander’s character quite a bit. Expect a lot of that in this story. The names might be Rowling’s but the character’s will be mine (for good or for ill remains to be seen).