I'm backtracking a little, because I quite frankly haven't a clue what to do with the race. This obviously comes before it.


James was the one to suggest that maybe, just maybe, it might be an idea to get their hands on some wands. Jeremy approached wand-buying with the same courtesy and consideration that he did everything else.

"Right," he said, flinging open the door of the little shop. "What's the longest wand you've got here?"

Mr. Ollivander looked very slightly taken aback. "Seventeen inches, but - "

"I'll have that, then."

"It's not that simple, Jeremy," James said quietly, torn between amusement and mortification. "The wand chooses the wizard, you know."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, in the wizarding world you can't just barge into a wand shop and yell 'POWER!'. You have to try out different wands, and if it's the right one for you it'll work. It might be three inches long. You haven't got a choice."

"Oh, God. I bet you know all sorts of pointless trivia about 'the wizarding world', don't you? If cars chose their riders you'd have a Reliant Robin."

Richard moved quietly away and interested himself in the wandboxes lining the walls before anyone could make any Mini-related comments.

"So," Jeremy continued, turning on Mr. Ollivander, "it's all just trial and error? There's no magical scan, no better way of doing this?"

Mr. Ollivander cleared his throat. "This method has long been known to be the most effective, and - "

"Useless. And Hammond thought magic was better than cars. Fine, I'll wave a few sticks around if it'll make you happy."

Mr. Ollivander, who was disliking this customer more by the second, bowed and scurried off to find the shortest wands he had.