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When Dudley got to the second floor, the wand-testing expert was already there, along with a few judges. Since Dudley and Harry had gone up, there was no reason for Viktor and Fleur to stay behind, so they followed.
"Please allow me to introduce Mr. Ollivander."
Standing next to Dumbledore was an elderly man Dudley and the others had met before: Ollivander, the only wandmaker in England.
"He will be examining your wands to ensure they are in good condition for the tournament."
Ollivander stepped forward and, after a quick glance at Fleur, said politely, "Mademoiselle Delacour, would you like to go first?"
Fleur gracefully walked up to Ollivander and handed him her wand.
The "wand test" was simply Ollivander running his fingers over the wand, tapping and waving it, and then casting a few small spells.
"Hmm," Ollivander put his ear to the wand, as if listening to its whispers. Then he spun it expertly between his long fingers, and the wand shot out a spray of pink and gold sparks.
"Very good," Ollivander said, handing the wand back to Fleur. "Nine and a half inches... unyielding... made of maple with a core of... oh, a Veela hair."
"It's from my grandmother's hair," Fleur admitted without hesitation. The silver-haired girl smiled, showing off her perfect white teeth. She didn't deny her Veela heritage; in fact, she seemed quite proud of it.
Being a half-breed of a magical creature and a wizard was still looked down upon in the wizarding world, even more so than being Muggle-born. At least there were a lot of Muggle-borns, so insulting one was like insulting an entire group. Half-breeds, especially those with Veela blood, were often seen by male wizards as... well, objects. And female witches were often unfriendly toward them, worried they would try to charm their husbands or simply despising them.
For example, Dudley noticed Bagman's eyes dart toward Fleur when he heard she had Veela blood. If it's hard to understand the prejudice, just think of a Veela as a succubus; a half-succubus, especially a woman, would certainly be treated with hostility.
"A wonderful design, very well-suited to you, Mademoiselle Delacour."
Ollivander's expression was calm as he handed the wand back to Fleur. At his age, he had seen it all. He'd seen witches with half or even three-quarters Veela blood.
"Mr. Krum, it's your turn," Ollivander said, turning to Viktor.
Viktor stomped forward with a heavy gait and handed his big, thick, dark, and heavy wand to Ollivander. As soon as it was in Ollivander's hand, he noticeably sank a bit; Viktor's wand was substantial.
After tapping it a few times, Ollivander said, "A Gregorovitch wand. He's an excellent wandmaker, even if his style isn't quite my—"
"But it's in perfect health."
It was a strange word to use for a wand, but that was Ollivander's way. In his eyes, a wand wasn't all that different from a person.
"Next, Mr. Potter."
Ollivander's eyes turned to Harry, a glimmer of excitement in his light-colored eyes. "It feels like yesterday. I remember it all so clearly... Come, let me see how it's doing."
Harry handed over the wand he had hidden in his sleeve. It was so shiny it reflected the light in a peculiar way.
"You take excellent care of it. Oh, it's just like new..."
Ollivander carefully handled the wand as if it were a fragile person, even bringing it to his nose for a deep sniff. To an outsider, it might have seemed a little creepy.
"You must polish it often... Did you oil it just yesterday?"
"Ah, um, yes," Harry answered reflexively, a bit dazed by the question. He did take good care of his wand, but he hadn't used any oil on it yesterday. In a way, it was "oily"—but from his own hands. The truth was, Harry had been constantly rubbing the wand, polishing it until it shone.
Ollivander handed the wand back to Harry, looking very pleased that one of his creations had found such a good master.
"And finally, Mr. Dursley."
Ollivander paused and looked at the last champion.
"If I remember correctly, your wand should be made of ironwood, with a Thestral tail-hair core, nine inches."
Of course, he remembered it. The wand he sold Dudley was his most disappointing creation, yet now Dudley was a Hogwarts champion because of it. He was naturally even more curious about its condition.
Dudley didn't hesitate and handed his wand to Ollivander.
"You've... changed it?" Ollivander stared blankly at the completely different wand in his hand. If he hadn't known for certain that it was the one he had given Dudley, he would have doubted he had ever made it.
"Oh, what a brilliant idea..."
Ollivander was a master wandmaker renowned throughout Europe, and even though the craftsmanship was different, he could see the genius behind it.
"The story of how it was made is also quite interesting... you know, many creations come from a flash of inspiration... and this one came from one of mine."
Ollivander would never normally use a hard wood like ironwood for the body of a wand, as it had very poor flexibility. Nor would he use a Thestral tail-hair for a core, as it's an incredibly unstable material. To this day, the only famous wand with a Thestral hair core was the Elder Wand, one of the Deathly Hallows. In normal circumstances, Ollivander wouldn't even look twice at a combination of those two incompatible materials.
But one day, he was possessed by a whim and just made one.
"I always thought it was my greatest failure..."
"I never realized it was actually just a half-finished work, waiting for the person who could complete it to arrive."
Ollivander handed the wand back to Dudley. "And you... you finished it."
"Personally, I don't like altering wands this way," he said, referring to the magical crystals embedded in the wand. "But it's very happy, and so am I."
Ollivander's attitude toward wands was no different from his attitude toward children. "The wand chooses the wizard," was his favorite thing to say, not the other way around.
"I wish you the best of luck in the tournament."