Eric studied the collection of odd items in his room with what could almost be satisfaction. After years of tooling about the old castle, he was finally going to become one of the students. He already knew more about potions, enchantments, and spells than some of the graduates. Dumbledore, however, insisted that he go through the same steps as everyone else to become a proper wizard.
In many ways, that's what Eric wanted more than anything: to prove he was like everyone else. His appearance was what was usually accepted for an 11-year old boy. He had a long, spindly frame that posessed no more than the usual amount of clumsiness. Physically, his only striking feature was a head of hair grown down to his beltline; kept properly neat, clean, and tied into a long tail stretching down his spine. This and the coarse, faded and five-times mended clothes he wore were the only things that would attract attention to him. All else would have identified him as just another young boy.
On the other hand, his room seemed determined to prove otherwise. Scattered about a few rough tables were dusty and decaying tomes about almost every wizarding subject imaginable. On a weak and wobbly chair sat his collection of first year textbooks – old, worn, and dusty; but servicable for what a young student with no money needed. His equipment, though, was where his pride was shown. He had two size 2 cauldrons, one pewter and one copper, both smoothly cast bowls with perfect balance. His crystal phials were a meticulous collection from previous incomplete sets cast aside by the upperclasses for new; gathered, polished and preserved. His brass scales were the result of hours of scrap collection melted down and re-wrought into a set that could pass for the best Diagon Alley had to offer. His telescope was his own design, with lenses he ground and polished by hand until their focusing power was unmatched throughout the school. On the ledge sat Midget and Widget; two burrow owls he found as injured fledgelings, nursed back to health to become his most faithful companions.
Other items scattered throughout the room attested to Eric's pre-occupation with enchantments. His attempt at a working broomstick turned out an exceptional ebony handled flier, which had a slightly disquieting tendency to hover on it's own. A heavy braid of rope rested in the corner, one end flipping back and forth like the tail of a nervous cat. A hooded outfit lay folded in one corner with an intricately carved leather belt capping the pile, as if to hold the collection of clothing down.
One thing remained. A carpenter's lathe held an intricately carved stretch of pristinely carved cherrywood. The eighteen-inch dowel was perfectly hollowed out, with a plug neatly set aside awaiting the time a proper filler could be obtained. A pile of over three dozen remants in a variety of materials, any of which would have made a perfectly suitable wand, attested to Eric's unyielding perfectionism. Only one thing remained: what could Eric get to be a proper core for the only wand Eric ever intended to have?
"'ello there, Eric! How're we coming?" Eric never got over how Hagrid dwarfed his door, or how much he had to stoop in order to stand under the low ceiling of Eric's room. It was all the little things Hagrid had to go through to be a proper guardian for him that made Eric love him so much.
"We're almost there, sir. Just need to core the wand, and I'll be ready. I wish Dumbledore was more understanding, but he flatly refused me."
"Well, now, it's not exactly up to him, lad. Phoenix feathers don't grow on trees. Every feather taken from a phoenix without burning is one it won't be able to grow proper the next time around. Fawkes can't just give them away. Never mind, though, I have something for you about as good." Hagrid reached into his pocket and pulled out a small folding of paper. As he unfolded it, several long silver filaments were exposed.
Eric could barely catch his breath. "Are those what I think they are?"
Hagrid beamed with pride. "Hairs of a unicorn's mane. There was one trapped in a bramblebush in the Dark Forest. May have kicked me once or twice as I helped it loose, but I know it didn't mean nothin'. I got these from the briars."
"Unicorn's mane – taken without violence, too. If I can get the grafting to take, they should work well." Taking the hairs reverently to the lathe, Eric took a small wire and threaded them into the wooden shaft. As Hagrid watched for hours, he meticulously drove the endplug in place, staining and varnishing the wand until it shimmered. He then began an exhaustive litany of specially chosen binding spells until the room about them seemed charged with static. With all this completed, Eric suddenly paused and looked uncertainly to Hagrid, who replied with an earnest nod and smile. With his guardian's support behind him, Eric took hold of the new wand.
Everything seemed to stand perfectly still for a moment, then a wind started to blow through the room, rushing into a torrent. Books, clothing, bedsheets, and two excitable owls began a rolling orbit about the room. The ties on Eric's hair snapped under the strain, sending his well-combed tail into a frantic swirl of tangles about his head. All of this turned Eric's anticipation into panic as he maintained his grip, hoping nothing worse came of it. Suddenly, there was a loud cascading sound, like the base of a waterfall, and a flood of light flilled the room. Then it was over – all of it. Eric was still holding the wand, Midget and Widget were none the worse, if a bit ruffled; and Hagrid was still Hagrid.
Eric looked over uncertainly. "Was that right?"
Hagrid could only shrug. "Well, give it a try and let's see."
A spell – a simple one at first, obviously. Looking about his room, his eyes fell on the chair. Well, if it broke, it was a little loss so long as it took nothing with it. "Wingardium Leviosa!"
The chair took to the air smoothly and evenly, hovering steadily, raising or lowering at his slightest thought. As the chair eased it's way about the room, arcing and turning in answer to Eric's every whim, it quickly became apparent that the wand was an ideal conduit for him. Looking over to Hagrid, Eric basked in the expression of delight on his mentor's face. "It's perfect – just perfect."