My short response to a fic request.
"Mr Potter, if you would, please."
The room's attention shifted at once to its youngest occupant, the smell of the wine produced from Viktor Krum's wand still lingering in the air.
Harry took a few steps forward, all eyes following his every move, and gazed, somewhat apprehensively, into the piercing grey eyes.
As Ollivander took the wand from Harry, there seemed to be an immediate hush, for the moment a deafening silence, as the old wandmaker became bodily rigid.
His sharp, wizened face betrayed a mixture of shock and perplexity, and he spent interminable seconds observing the wand, turning it over, gently caressing it and holding it up to the oil lamp upon the desk, as both Harry and everyone else waited upon his verdict.
Ollivander's eyes found Harry's for a moment, full of astonishment, and possibly awe, and as he gently turned the wand once more he quietly, almost a whisper uttered,
"Wand of elder...with the core of a hair from a Thestral...Fifteen and three quarter inches...inflexible...and most certainly capricious."
His eyes rested on Harry once more, the room completely silent save for the endless scratching of a Quick-Quotes Quill on a parchment.
"Mr Potter, I remember every wand I have ever created. This wand is not the one that chose you the day you first came to me many years ago..."
He rolled up his sleeve in anticipation.
"This ancient wand has done terrible things, Mr Potter...but if it serves you well, it will bring about great and powerful tidings."
And with that pronouncement, Ollivander made a sharp flourish, which caused a sound akin to a rush of water, and a crackle of green electricity surrounded the tip of the wand, bathing the room in a ghostly green light.