Melody Aira Snow; Hogwarts Assistant!

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History... eww! More, more and even more students doze off with each boring lesson! I remember clearly wanting to jump up in class and go berserk, jumping up and down and screaming my head off (dancing on the tables would have been a bonus). And when Professor Binns asked what was the matter, I would coolly answer, "Just a little something to keep me from rotting of boredom." Oh, that would have been so sweet, honestly!

Hold on... I forgot to introduce myself! Really, where are my manners these days? Anyway, I'm Melody. In full, Melody Aira Snow. Yes, yes, yes... I know a lot of people say it's a nice name. But honestly, the gentle, mythical sound of it all doesn't even give a hint of my personality. I, for one, detest skirts and dresses (which is why I'm wearing trousers), makeup, flirting, and all the fuss of being a prim, proper lady. Detest it all. And by the way, please take note that 'Aira' rhymes with 'Myra'... just so you know. And anyway, I'm tired of people pronouncing it as 'era'...

You may have noticed that I'm not dressed like the other students, unless you are visually impaired... just kidding! Simple explanation, really: I'm not a student. No, I'm not a Professor either... or a caretaker... and no, I am most definitely not someone's pet! What could possibly have made you think that is beyond me...

Well, see, I graduated last year. This year, I'm here with another one of Hogwarts' graduates; Harry Potter (you just might have heard of him. I don't know him too well, and I plan to get to know him this year), as... well... 'assistants'. You know, going around, helping out all day, making ourselves useful... the like. 'Assistants'. Well... maybe I should define myself a little more.

Hmm... let's see... ok, here's an example of things we do: Help the Professors mark homework papers (trust me, we do that a lot), help Hagrid out whenever he's tending the garden (we do that a lot also), watch students in detention to make sure they don't run off... alright, I admit! I don't really know yet all the things that we're going to have to do. We just started as assistants about three days ago. It's like a temporary job (Funnily enough, we still have to eat at the Gryffindor table and sleep in the Gryffindor dorms. Don't ask me why...).

Anyway, I was walking past the History classroom when I saw a familiar figure waving cheerfully at me from further down the corridor. He was smiling from ear to ear. That smile... every time I looked at that innocent eleven-year-old face, I saw Harry's almost exact eleven-year-old clone, minus the scar and glasses. He even acted almost exactly like the eleven-year-old Harry, except maybe he was a bit more on the clumsy side. So Potter-like, and yet... he was a Malfoy.

Surprised? Shocked, even? Oh, don't worry. You're not (and trust me, you never will be) the only one. But the fact unfortunately remains; This perfectly likeable, decent, friendly, brave little boy comes from a family of perfectly detestable, rude, arrogant, cowardly purebloods. I'm not saying purebloods are bad, by the way (why would I? I'm one myself!), I just don't like the Malfoys... not that I really ever knew them well, but they don't exactly seem like a nice family, you know what I mean?

Eranoy Rovan Malfoy is a First-year Slytherin student. Exactly WHY he's stuck in Slytherin... well, he practically begged the Sorting Hat to place him in Slytherin, having received strict instructions from his father to 'carry on the Malfoy tradition with pride' (urgh... ). But take my true word for it, he should not, and I repeat, not be there. A pure gem of a Malfoy, this one. One in a million. The white sheep in a family of blacks. The angel among the devils. The Gryffindor among the Slytherins. The... Ok, I suppose I've made my point.

I stopped and let him run up to me. He was holding a rather thick textbook in his hand. "Hello, Eranoy," I greeted, "What's all the excitement about?"

He shook his dark head. "Nothing... I just wanted to ask if... if you're off to see Anya," he said, obviously hopeful. Anya is my pet; a physically lovely white winged horse of the miniature Abraxan breed. An eighteenth birthday present from the Weasley twins. In school, I had a habit of occasionally pulling a prank or two with them. How they got the horse is one of my life's greatest mysteries. Eranoy simply adores her.

Rolling my eyes in amusement , I smiled. "Eranoy... " I crooned, "The school year started a week ago, and for a week I've been telling you that you don't need me to go see her. You can just march over there and see her yourself."

He grinned and gave me an apologetic shrug. "Sorry... I know you're always telling me that, but what with all this 'beginning-of-year' fuss, I keep forgetting." He fidgeted with his robe.

"So go see her already."

"I can't."

"Why ever not?"

"Because," he tapped his textbook, "I have to go practise my spells. 'A wizard's not a wizard if he doesn't know any spells'," he quoted.

"Where'd you get that from?"

He chuckled. "My cousin, Blair," he answered. "Not exactly the 'cool' thing to say, in my opinion, but I think it's very true. Don't you?" I just nodded slowly; I couldn't help wondering what horrible catastrophe had caused the poor souls' parents to give him such a name as... Blair Malfoy. Hopefully, that was not his last name.

Eranoy spoke again. "Do you think you could help me? ... Or are you busy?"

At that, I smirked. "Being school-famous for my genius in charms isn't easy," I bragged playfully. I slung my arm around his shoulder and led him off. "Let's go."

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Not wanting to sound like Hermione Granger in our first Charms class ('It's Leviosa, not Leviosa... '), I decided to demonstrate the spell again. "Alright, Eranoy, see here," I began, "I propose that you stop worrying about your wrist movement," I pointed to his hand," because it's fine already." I avoided the word 'perfect', in case it got to his head. "It's fine," I repeated.

"So why can't I get it right?" he sighed , staring at his wand a bit dejectedly. Eranoy, like me, had a very deep interest in Spells and Charms, and wanted to learn every single one on the planet. But unlike me, he had difficulty getting the chanting exactly right (I heard him pronouncing 'Accio' as 'Akkio' yesterday).

I laid his Charms textbook on the table beside him. "It's not entirely about wrists movements, Eranoy. In fact, wrist movements aren't all that important. What is important is... "

"Chanting?" he suggested.

"Smart boy. Close that door, would you?" I pointed. Ever obedient, he hurried to the big wooden doors and shut them, then hurried back. Sunlight streamed in through the two big windows, giving pleasant light and warmth to the empty room. No one else was around, and my guess was that Eranoy was glad of that. It would have been a trifle embarrassing if a crowd was there to hear him blabber 'Wingardem Levisa' over and over again.

I tapped my fingers patiently on the table. "I won't lie, Eranoy. Your chanting is almost entirely off. A spell has to be said right to work right." I shook my finger at him. "Remember what I told you about Seamus Finnigan?"

Eranoy giggled, tapping his chin. "Yes."

"Good. Now follow my every tone: Win-gar-dium Levi-o-sa. Come on now, try it. Properly please," I added.

He nodded slowly. "Wingordium Levi... "

"It's Win-gar-dium, not Win-gor-dium!" I cried. Then, I realised something; Wait a minute... that really did sound like Hermione Granger! I found myself smiling in amusement and decided to simply shrug it off. "Try again, Eranoy," I grinned, gesturing with my hands.

Eranoy gave a small smile, as if he understood what I had just realised (which was, of course, impossible, since he has never even known Hermione). Clutching his wand, he turned to a candle in a corner of the room. "Wingar... "

"Not that, Eranoy, it's already floating."

Embarrassed and a bit flustered , he turned to a matchbox I had put beside his book, going red in the face. "Don't worry Mel, I'll get it right this time," he grinned apologetically. Like I haven't heard that before...

A raise of his arm. A point of the wand. Swish and flick. "Wingardium Leviosa!"

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Madam Pomfrey helped me lay him down on one of the beds. "Heaven help us! What happened here? " she enquired anxiously, adjusting the pillow. I heaved a sigh. "Levitation Spell," I muttered, "Had his damn wand pointing the wrong way and somehow found himself twenty feet in the air. I don't know how I missed that mistake."

Madam Pomfrey examined the big beauty of a bruise on his head. "No concussion, that's good," she nodded with a sigh of relief. She started checking him all over. "Nothing broken either," she said, with another nod of satisfaction.

"Unlikely." I lifted his limp, badly swollen wrist.

"Oh, now that does not look good," she gasped, "Come, come now, let me see it." She turned his wrist gently, feeling it. "Oh my, this is definitely twisted," she sighed, shaking her head. "Oh well," she stood up straight and adjusted her cap. "It could have been worse, for all we know. No, don't touch it Snow, this is easily fixed in the hands of Poppy Pomfrey. Now you run off and leave this to me." She bustled off, muttering something about if it wasn't a rude Malfoy, it was a clumsy one.

I headed for the door, knowing that Eranoy was in good wrists... I mean, hands. Madam Pomfrey prided herself on being an exceptionally good (and fussy) nurse, with hardly a healing failure in the past. Well... maybe except for the 'permanent' paralysis that that evil witch Rhondella had inflicted on me during my first year. Still, all that was over now. All those years of suffering were gone. Rhondella was long gone, long dead, long finished. She can't come back... she can't hurt me anymore... she can't and she won't!

I closed the door to the hospital wing and started running for the stable.

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