"Quit yer buzzin', we'll be there in naught a minute!"
Randolf Hagrid huffed on short legs to keep up with his over excited eleven year old, managing to catch him only due to the tower of items cradled in Rubeus' arms slipping and clattering to the ground in his youthful haste.
Giving a good natured laugh Randolf took the rare opportunity to ruff up his son's hair while he bent down to collect his fallen books and scattered scale apparatus components. Rubeus didn't seem to notice, examining his new glass potions set for any damage with furrowed brow and creased forehead.
"Come now, son, it'll be fine. Don't fuss yerself silly. We got all the time in the world."
"Sorry Dad," Rubeus mumbled as he rose again to full, formidable height, though the speech was so distant it was very possible he'd not realised he was even saying it but had rather done so purely from habit.
Randolf knew how excited Rubeus was to get his hands on his very own wand after receiving his Hogwarts letter—not once or twice he'd caught the boy in their kitchen swinging Randolf's own wand around, wielding it as if it were a toothpick. Now that the time had finally come, Rubeus could barely contain himself between the nerves and anticipation.
They continued to make their way down Diagon, and Randolf took note as increasing numbers of shoppers gave pause, gawked, whispered, or outright sneered at the half-giant child he was proud to call his boy. He could feel the self-consciousness radiating from Rubeus, as it had been their whole London trip, and glanced up to take in the slump of his son's shoulders as he tried to shrink himself, furrowed brows still pinned to a worried expression. Randolf cleared his throat. Where ordinarily his actions would have had him wrapping a protective arm around an eleven year old's shoulders, here, under such circumstances, it was more like a protective arm wrapped about somewhere around the back of Rubeus' knees.
"They're starin', Ruby, coz yeh 'avn't fixed yer s'penders—look at you, it's fallen down yer arm from when you went and bent down. Hand me that—" he reached up to take the mess of purchases into his own arms, the bundle feeling much bigger suddenly than it had a second ago, "—And you tidy yerself and stand up straight, there's a good lad. Nearly there."
He watched from the corner of his eye as Rubeus hurriedly retucked his already-too-small shirt, pulled the band of his suspenders onto his shoulder, and attempted to run a hand through the messy curls which refused to obey his commands to remain neat. Randolf smiled.
By the time he'd managed to stoop in through the doorway of Ollivander's narrow store, Rubeus was obviously much closer to the ecstatic extreme of the emotional spectrum once more. Randolf shifted his hold on History of Magic, et al. under his arm and smiled contentedly at his son, gesturing quietly for him to settle down a little while they waited for the famed wandmaker to hear the jingle of his bell and arrive to serve them.
Soon, a walking stack of wand boxes shuffled out from somewhere in the back of the shop, and it wasn't long before Garrick Ollivander appeared from behind it. The old man's huge, silvery eyes fixed themselves on the wizard-to-be before him and took a moment to process the information.
"Ah."
Eyes flicking to see his father's ever calm reaction, Rubeus tried not to take this as a bad sign. Clearing his throat and walking forward with a hand outstretched, he managed a bold greeting, however shy it came out sounding—Randolf had always raised his son to be polite.
"Mr. Ollivander, sir, it's a delight to 'ave the opportunity to meet you. I'm Rubeus Hagrid, I'm going ter be attendin' Hogwarts this year and the letter says I'll be needin' a wand..?"
Ollivander took in the sight, circling Rubeus and occasionally reaching out to touch him, though ignoring the offered handshake, and finally began looking to Randolf with curiosity. Under such scrutiny, Rubeus' introduction lost steam and confidence with every word.
"Randolf Hagrid. Really." He tilted his head and smiled, tutting and shaking his head in a way that was somehow empty of judgement. "Sycamore and Dragon Heartstring, I suppose I shouldn't be surprised!" Turning to address Rubeus directly at last, he added: "Some wandmakers have toyed with cores made from ground giants teeth, you know."
Randolf frowned. Rubeus squirmed. He wasn't sure he like his mother, and by extension himself, being compared casually to dragons and unicorns and other beasts in this way. But the man looked like someone who had always been very old and who would remain very old until the end of time, so instead of pushing the point, Rubeus swallowed his words and turned them into a cough.
Producing a measuring tape from an unseen pocket, Ollivander started forward, intent on attempting to reach the boy's shoulder in any practical fashion. Quickly understanding that wouldn't work he stepped away again and sucked on his teeth, considering.
Unsure of what he should be doing, exactly, Rubeus lifted his arms into what he imagined to be a stance for when one was being measured, accidentally bumping some boxes from the wall on his way.
"Hmm. Perhaps best to leave it all to the tape this once."
Randolf hummed a pleased chuckle from the corner. After a few minutes spent in either awkward silence or awkward conversation thanks to Ollivander's uncomfortable, unabashed directness, the merchant returned the tape to his pocket, confident in his assessment.
"Well, Randolf, young Rubeus; to accommodate your current stature and ensure your wand's continued effectiveness as you grow further," he paused, looking down his nose to Randolf, who'd taken a seat, and up through his eyebrows to Rubeus, who was fidgeting with his shirt buttons. "I think perhaps that this will need to be a custom job, very unusual."
"Ha! Wouldn't be the first time we'd 'eard that today, would it, Rubes?"
Rubeus' eyes merely lost focus as he recalled the utter debacle at Madam Malkin's earlier that afternoon.
"How it should work exactly, I'm not entirely sure; the wand chooses the wizard, after all, very unusual case…"
As a first step, the old wizard pulled stores and stores of wand wood materials from a room at the back of the building. He had Rubeus handle each one, but didn't require the customary waving, since that would be simply ludicrous. Rubeus felt silly with all the trouble his size was causing, reddening with more embarrassed the longer they went on trying to narrow his options, whittling down, as it were, what his wand wood should be. Throughout, his father's reassuring hand reaching up to rest on the small of his back kept him steady and the discomfort didn't truly begin to fade until Ollivander had decided at length on a very particular cut of old English Oak, marked it and set it aside in his workshop, sufficiently satisfied.
"Now." He stated firmly, returning to the main room. "Cores." Drawing the word out and narrowing his eyes, Ollivander seemed to be adding the delicate finishes to a grand scheme only he could decipher. "I think it best if we let your core get a good look at you before making any rash decisions."
Snapping a finger in the air beside his head, a quill and small scrap of parchment materialised, scribbling some kind of address on his behalf, the man's wide, searching eyes never leaving Rubeus.
"This is the reserve on which the majority of our donors are kept, Randolf, you may both meet me there at the next new moon to finalise materials for the purchase—if that doesn't yield results… Well, we'll have to work that out then, won't we."
Randolf took the parchment, placing his hat back onto his head before tipping it in thanks to the old wandmaker. He guided his boy out onto the street once more, the bustle having died down considerably by now, and the darkening sky was just approaching twilight with the first few stars twinkling into existence as they did every night. The initial disappointment that had been evident on Rubeus' face upon learning he wouldn't get to leave Diagon Alley tonight with his wand in hand had been replaced with a thrilled countenance the instant the new plan involved him coming face to face with the unicorns, phoenixes and dragons which would make up the source of his magic. The chatter had been non-stop ever since, so immense was his enthusiasm for such an outcome. Randolf felt tired already, thinking of the evening ahead. It had been exhausting enough trying to get the big kid out the door of the Magical Menagerie without bringing any critters away with them ("No, Rubeus, yeh don't need a cat! I see the way yer eyes are welling up, yeh've got the sneezes from one already!"). He could only imagine with amused dread the kind of convincing he would have to do once his son laid eyes on a real, live dragon. Merlin knew what consequences that would have.
"Come on," Randolf spoke over the continued flutter of that giant son of his, who was, for the first time that day, unaware of and unconcerned with his immense size. "Let's stop in at the Cauldron for a pint and some tea before we 'ead 'ome." He sighed fondly. "I feel I'm gonna need it."