The Hagrid's son

Harry picked up his fallen glasses and put them on before reaching out for the hand extended by the person he collided with and looked up, more than he initially wanted to due to the other part's height.

An older boy than him with hair as red as blood slightly curly that fell generously to the neck, robust muscular build with a firm hand and a height that easily took him more than a head. His expression of confidence shone with his green eyes.

Harry had never seen anyone with such a peculiar hair color or who seemed to have bright emeralds as eyes!

It must be something magical, he supposed.

The clothes consisted of pants as red as his hair with orange lines along with a leather belt and a brown low-neck jacket with three golden buttons on the stomach. Underneath it, a white long-sleeved shirt with a red tie loosely tied at the neck could be seen.

But the most curious thing was the piece of skin he was wearing as if it were a short-sleeved tunic without a hood or visible pockets. The hair of the skin seemed to be made of shadows and although he only felt them for a moment due to the impact, he could tell they were extremely soft and velvety.

"That scar… Are you Harry Potter by any chance?"

"You know me?" he still didn't know why he was so famous and the surprise of being recognized was still new.

"Know you?" the boy laughed—"A bit, for sure. But shouldn't you be doing your shopping with my father?"

"Your father?" Harry connected the dots when he overlaid the figures of the two people in his mind—"Are you Hagrid's son?"

"The one and only," the boy nodded as he patted his chest—"I'm Barnaby," he extended his hand to shake it.

"I'm Harry, Harry Potter," he regretted it the moment he said it as he shook the big hand.

It was the first boy from the magical side he met and I messed it up!

"Although I would love to chat with you, I'm very busy at the moment and should be going," Barnaby said after taking out a pocket watch with a chain and looking at the time—"Come visit us after you settle in Hogwarts and I'll give you a tour of the place."

"That sounds great!"

"You must be about to get your wand, I won't detain you any longer. Tell my father that you can take your time, tonight I'll take care of dinner," Barnaby passed by him and crouched down to whisper in his ear—"Be careful with Dumbledore, all that glitters is not gold."

Harry looked puzzled at Barnaby as he walked away among the crowd, which unconsciously seemed to make way for Hagrid's son.

He thought about the words he said and was confused. Hagrid spoke of Dumbledore as someone who spoke of their idol, while his son seemed to have a cautious attitude toward the headmaster of Hogwarts.

Tiling!*

He entered Ollivander and saw an old man at the counter examining the contents of a small elegant-looking wooden box with fascination.

"Fascinating! Mr. Barnaby never ceases to amaze me, to think that there were still things like this in the world. Oh, how should I use it? So many possibilities and so little to use," the old man commented distressed despite the smile never leaving his face.

Harry coughed to get his attention.

"Eh?" Mr. Ollivander raised his gaze surprised from the box and looked at Harry—"Ah, Mr. Potter! I knew I would see you soon to get your first wand. I remember like it was yesterday…"

Harry wasn't quite sure what happened next, the old man started to ramble and pulled out from somewhere a measuring tape that even measured his nose, before he started to take out wands that he removed just as quickly.

It wasn't until a few more later, that the old man seemed to realize something and handed him the winning wand.

A very curious situation, according to the old man, as his twin was the one that made the scar on his forehead. He was about to leave after paying, but then he saw the box on the counter and curiosity got the better of him.

"Mr. Ollivander, what's in that box?"

"Mmm? Oh! Of course, the box!" Mr. Ollivander's enthusiasm returned immediately as he took it and approached Harry to show him its content, like a collector boasting of having obtained a valuable piece from his collection—"This, Mr. Potter, is none other than dragon heartstring, specifically, it comes from a species called Malzeno, which according to Mr. Barnaby, can be considered an old dragon."

"Is it very valuable?" Harry asked a little disgusted by the content, as it was clearly very "fresh" judging by the blood that had not yet coagulated.

"Valuable?" Ollivander's eyes opened wide as if he heard something extremely scandalous—"It's priceless!"—he closed the box and placed it on the counter very carefully—"Mr. Barnaby can be considered my half-apprentice and in exchange for the experience and knowledge I provided him in the past, he brings me a new material to make wands, around this time every year.

"Wow, he must really appreciate what I taught him," Harry nodded.

"Yes, he's a good boy," Ollivander sighed as he stroked the box with a remorseful expression—"Terribly skilled with his hands and a talent capable of eclipsing many, but I didn't manage to convince him to become a wandmaker, even when I offered him... never mind. Have a good day, Mr. Potter."

Harry left the wand shop still more confused.

"Harry!" he heard someone calling him and saw Hagrid raising the cage of a white owl—"Happy birthday!"

A smile broke out on Harry's face.

Later, they were eating in… he didn't know exactly what kind of establishment it was, but they served food in good condition and that was enough for him.

"I ran into Barnaby in Ollivander," Harry commented as he took a bite of stew, a little too salty for his taste.

"Barnaby?" Hagrid was bewildered for a moment, before putting on a look of understanding—"Oh, I see. He must have gone to bring something new to Mr. Ollivander, this boy is as punctual as a clock for these things."

"Mr. Ollivander commented that he was something like his half-apprentice?"

"Yes, he spent two summers studying under his wing and learned a lot," Hagrid nodded with a proud expression—"Mr. Ollivander even wanted him to stay with him and inherit his business, but Barnaby disagreed."

"Why would he learn from a wandmaker if he wasn't going to work in that trade?" Harry didn't have enough information and couldn't understand why someone would learn something so specific if not to use it.

"Well…" Hagrid shook the jug in his hand with a little sadness—"That has something to do with his mother."