Glengda had known it was unlikely that one diagnostic would find the problem, but a part of her had very much been hoping for it. She didn't want to hear that it was inexplicable, and it made her angry. She tried to keep it off her face, though not very successfully.
The idea of using someone else's wand made her squirm a little. It was disturbingly... intimate. But she understood the purpose- when running computer diagnoses, you likewise eliminated broken components. Glengda picked up Healer Weasley's wand, sensing the magic flowing beneath the wood, subtly wrong. She pointed it at the handkerchief again, recasting the warming charm.
This time it didn't just turn into a sticky tarry cloth; this time it melted completely, a dark, stinking puddle on the otherwise pristine desk. Glengda's cheeks flamed and she did not look away from it.