Bright Eyes.
By alloy.
The boy stood just a few hairs short of his patron.
Already at the callow age of eleven his chin showed the swarthy beginnings beard.
"Ollivanders first." His patron said. "A wizard needs a wand."
"Strapping lad like you." Said Mister Ollivander. "Requires something robust,"
The little man eschewed the boxes surrounding him and reached up onto a high shelf to bring down a large bowel.
There were two wands, and the boy reached for the smaller.
"Fourteen inches, willow, Unicorn hair core."
The boy felt nothing.
"This wand is waiting for a Weasley. It only responds to them. Never to anyone else."
"How curious." His patron said.
The boy picked up the second longer wand, it spanned a full sixteen inches.
"THIS ONE!" He shouted.
His embarrassment was erased by his patron's warm grin. "By all means Mister Ollivander, this one."
They collected his schoolbooks at Flourish and Botts. His companion too bought books, almost a small mountain, which the boy in an effort to be helpful hoisted onto his own back.
"Useful lad professor."
"Yes." The older man mused. "I might keep him on."
Later, at Florean Fortescue's the boy enjoyed an ice cream while casting a longing eye at the Magical Menagerie.
Professor Dumbledore caught his eye, apparently oblivious of the lime ice-cream decorating his auburn beard.
"So Hagrid." He said. "How are you enjoying your first trip to Diagon Alley?"
fin