Professor Longbottom's (Not So) Horrible Day
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, I'm only playing in JK's pool and she's kind enough not to call the police!
Summary: Neville Longbottom is a Battle of Hogwarts veteran, recipient of an Order of Merlin (Third Class), trained Auror and excellent boyfriend. But today he will face his greatest challenge yet—his first day of teaching.
A/N: This is my entry into the First Sentence Challenge over at HPFC forums.
"And finally," Professor Slughorn said, as he pushed the door open, "we come to
the main event." Neville Longbottom squared his shoulders, silently appealed to Merlin himself and followed his former Professor, now supervising colleague, into the Potions classroom he distinctly remembered from his own Hogwarts years.
Neville had been on what seemed like a never-ending whirlwind adventure in the devastating aftermath of the war. He, along with several others, had remained at Hogwarts to oversee the restoration. Everybody, even the Malfoys, surprisingly had pulled together and had managed to open the school for a September 1st start. Not long after, Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt had offered him a place in the trainee Auror program, which he had eagerly accepted. After qualifying as an Auror, he had completed his Practicing Herbologist certification and barely a day after returning to London, he had received a very urgent owl from the headmistress.
That was how Neville Longbottom, auror and herbologist came to be standing in front of a third year Potions class next to Professor Slughorn.
"Yes yes, hello everyone," Slughorn started, ushering Neville into the classroom and magically closing the door. "Please take your seats and Mr. Golding, could you please get rid of that gum or I've be having to owl your parents again."
Neville looked around the lab cautiously. The last time he had been in this room had been a very long time ago. He glanced at the students, and tried to ignore their faces and focus on the sea of House colours adorning their uniforms. He had sat in the very seat Gregory Golding sat in now, passing notes to Seamus and Dean. He had sat at the front too, watching as yet another of his Potions blew up in his face as Hermione had hurriedly whispered instructions to him under the scornful eye of Professor Snape.
Things had certainly changed.
A Hufflepuff girl raised her hand. "Who are you?" she piped up, directing her eyes to Neville. Neville wasn't too surprised she hadn't noticed him before. He hadn't taken any third years in his rotation with all the Professors yet. Under the new training agreement he had made with Headmistress McGonagall, Neville was required to observe and teach small portions of each class not in his speciality for six months and serve out the remaining six months training in Herbology. Potions was his last rotation before shadowing Professor Sprout for the remainder of his training.
He had been dreading Potions for quite some time now and had told Slughorn that under no circumstances was he going to be doing potions demonstrations during his time teaching. He had taken care of Nifflers with Hagrid and gazed at the sky with Professor Sinistra but Potions were in Neville's blackout zone.
"Oh yes, pardon me," said Slughorn, interrupting Neville's train of thought. "This here is Professor Longbottom, he'll be sitting in with us for the next two weeks before he goes off to become our new Professor Sprout!"
Neville awkwardly waved to the students. Dark wizards were no problem but teenagers still scared him. He remembered a time where he was terrified of Professor Snape and briefly wondered if anyone would ever think he was scary.
Before any students could comment, a sharp knock came from the door, followed by Professor McGonagall hurriedly opening the door. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, Professor, but might I borrow Professor Longbottom for a moment?"
Slughorn waved in response and continued to take attendance. McGonagall motioned for Neville to follow her.
"I'm afraid I have a large favour to ask of you Professor Longbottom," she started, her eyes flicking over his daily teaching attire, barely concealing the mixed look of concern and awe in her eyes. "Professor Flitwick has taken ill for the day. Madam Pomfrey assures me he will be fine in a day or two but on such short notice I'm unable to find a suitable replacement. Except for you, of course," she explained hurriedly.
"Er..." Neville began to reply but was interrupted by McGonagall's swift nod and gentle but firm push in the opposite direction.
"You'll be fine, not to worry. Normally I would never ask such a thing of a training Professor but you've faced Voldemort in your time, Longbottom, I would certainly think you'll be able to control a few fourth years."
Few is a bit of an understatement, Neville thought to himself. The fourth years were one of the largest years since the fall of Voldemort and there happened to be a large portion of Slytherins that were sorted that year.
Neville took a deep breath and silently followed McGonagall to the charms classroom. Sure, he had his fair share of supervised lessons with the professors, but who was he to tell a group of hormone-charged teenagers what to do? All too quickly, they reached the door to the classroom. From inside, he heard loud chatter, a book dropping and possibly even things whooshing around the room.
"What if there's a problem, Professor?" Neville asked timidly.
"Have you never heard of detention, Longbottom?" McGonagall replied dryly and opened the door to the howling, raucous group of hormone-driven teenagers.
Neville took a deep breath and stepped into the classroom to face his fate.
...
Neville thought the first class of the day would be the easiest. He was wrong.
"Mr. Hopkirk, could you please put down that book? Charms textbooks are not for squishing runaway bugs!"
Neville said as he confiscated Roger Hopkirk's book with a flick of his wand.
"Ms. Goodling, if you can't turn her hair back from pink, you'll be seeing me this evening for detention!" he bellowed, glancing at Sarah Goodling and Malecia Mensoot giggling in the back row.
"Professor Longbottom?" asked a young Slytherin boy in the middle row, as his classmates carried on their practicing of Hair Charms.
"Yes, what is it Mr. Fortescue?"
"Have you ever smoked gillyweed?" he asked then promptly doubled over in laughter with his Slytherin friend.
"You have just bought yourself three nights' detention, Fortescue," he replied evenly, feeling mildly satisfied as Fynn Fortescue's face dropped and his Slytherin friend turned his attentions to laughing at him.
He looked at the clock at the back of the room. It was going to be a long day.
...
Neville was astoundingly glad that the second session of the day was a free period for him. He took the chance to glance over Flitwick's notes that he had hurriedly scribbled. He knew Flitwick had notoriously horrendous writing from trying to decipher the numerous red ink scribbles that appeared on his essays during his own time in Charms. He looked at Flitwick's schedule for the day and felt like he had been hit with a Jelly-Legs Jinx. Sixth year Charms, O.W.L revision Charms (and could Neville please grade the pile of essays left over for tomorrow?) choir practice and finally the first years.
He was a Gryffindor. He could certainly do this.
Neville wondered why nobody had told him that the Sixth Years N.E.W.T students were mostly Ravenclaws. He stared at the work Flitwick had left for them as the students were busy working on their Bubble Head Charms.
"Professor Longbottom, you're a trained Auror, aren't you?" piped up one of the only three Gryffindor students in the class.
"Er, yes," Neville started before suddenly feeling a bit hot. He felt around for his wand in his robes. "Why do you ask, Mr, umm?"
"Wood, Professor. Michael Wood," Michael supplied as Neville began to lift the windows to let some cool air into the classroom.
"Professor, it's just that I'm not sure that you've noticed but... your trousers are on fire," he finished, his eyes wide with panic.
"Bloody hell!" Neville shouted, forgetting himself and quickly cast Aguamenti, for lack of a better spell, effectively drenching himself and looking rather like he had missed a trip to the lavatory.
As the entire class began to laugh hysterically at Neville's situation, he spied a young Hufflepuff girl in the front looking rather embarrassed and trying to hide her reddening face.
"Ms. Castle?" Neville implored, more embarrassed than angry at this point.
"I'm sorry, Professor. It was an accident."
The bell sounded and thankfully, Sixth Year Charms was at an end.
...
The Fifth Year O.W.L students had an interesting combination of students, with nearly equal amounts of all four Houses in the class. While the O. weren't exactly around the corner, Flitwick had preferred to keep the students on a tight study schedule. Neville had been forced to dig out the old projector and put notes up for the students to copy, which none of the students, particularly the Slytherins, had been too thrilled about.
"Sodding wanker," Neville heard one of the Slytherins say under his breath, which had earned him a visit the Headmistress. As Neville charmed the projector to go through the notes automatically, he began grading the enormous pile of practice essays.
Explain the importance of correct pronunciation in Charms, citing three examples of misuse and with reference to five or more sources.
Neville felt like banging his head on the desk and he was very thankful he had chosen a career in Herbology teaching where he could refuse to set any essay questions at all and make all his lessons be practical in the greenhouses. Just as Neville had begun to contemplate the wondrous thought, he noticed a pair of Ravenclaws floating notes to each other from across the room.
Clearing his throat, he glared at the two offenders and summoned the charmed notes to his desk as the girls watched on in horror.
Do you think Marzett looks fat in those robes?
Honestly, she needs to go on a diet! I think I just saw Gregory Rayn look at you.
He's an arse. I wouldn't mind Professor Longbottom looking at me, on the other hand...
Felicity, he's a TEACHER! That's just gross!
Neville stared at the note before it spontaneously combusted into flames. Growing embarrassed, he thought of Hannah and the look on her face when he told her that fifth years were lusting after him. He stared at the clock until the bell sounded.
..
Neville was thrilled to finally be on his lunch break when he remembered that Flitwick conducted choir practice during lunch. Scoffing down his sandwich and pumpkin juice, he rushed back to the prison of a classroom for the day. There stood several impatient students ranging from first to seventh years, some even tapping their feet and staring at the clock on the wall for good measure.
"Sorry everyone," he apologised.
"You're Neville Longbottom," squeaked a small first year Gryffindor.
Neville smiled kindly in reply. "Professor Longbottom, actually. Professor Flitwick has asked me to take over choir practice for the day."
"I know I had heard that name somewhere," one of the older students remarked and Neville recognised her from his Sixth Year Charms earlier. "Did you really fight in the Battle of Hogwarts?"
Suddenly all the students seemed very interested in him. Neville shifted uncomfortably. "Yes," he replied.
"Is it true that you...that you killed a werewolf?" a young Hufflepuff boy asked, his eyes wide with awe.
"Er, well,"
"I heard that He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named tried to set the Sorting Hat on fire on your head!" a Ravenclaw seventh year said. Neville barely recognised the girl from his own days at Hogwarts. The students giggled in response to that and Neville grinned.
"That one is true," he confirmed, shocking the choir group into silence.
"Professor Longbottom, Professor Binns taught us that all the Slytherins escaped the battle and that's why everybody hates them," said a small Slytherin boy.
Neville shook his head. "Nobody hates the Slytherins." Many of the students looked at him sceptically. "Everybody made their own decisions whether to fight in the battle or not and that was their choice. There have been many fine Slytherins and one of the greatest, albeit scariest, Headmasters of Hogwarts was a Slytherin."
"Are you talking about Professor Snape, Sir?" asked the same Ravenclaw seventh year. Neville nodded in response.
"I still remember him, Sir. He took me out of one of the Carrows' detention when I was a Second Year and let me study with him in his office."
The room was silent until another barrage of questions came to Neville.
On her way to check on Neville, McGonagall stood at the door and observed the scene in front of her. She caught Neville's eye as he was telling the students about the importance of tolerance and gave him a curt nod and continued on her way.
Neville was disappointed when the bell rang.
..
Neville's last class of the day was First Year Charms. Looking around the room at the many young faces, Neville opted to stay on his feet for this class.
"We'll be practicing a Levitating Charm today, everyone."
The students eagerly opened their textbooks. "Now, this one is a great charm to learn and can be very useful. The incantation is Wingardiam Leviosa and this is the wand movement: swish and flick."
Neville observed the students trying to levitate their feathers. A group of Slytherins at the front of the classroom successfully levitated their feathers and Neville led the class in enthusiastic applause. Neville spied the same young Gryffindor girl from choir practice struggling in the back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't quite catch your name before," Neville apologised as he stood next to her.
"Maisie Cattermole, Sir," she replied, her eyes cast downward.
"Well Maisie, it looks like you've nearly got it," Neville replied. "Try moving your wrist like this."
The feather began rise and Neville once again led the applause of the class.
Finally, the bell sounded.
The students began to file out of the classroom and Neville started tidying Flitwick's desk in preparation for tomorrow. As he was about to stuff the last of the O.W.L essays into his briefcase, Maisie Cattermole caught his eye.
"Thank you Professor Longbottom," she beamed and ran out the door to catch up with her friends.
..
"So, how was your day today?" Hannah asked him as she threw back the covers and joined him in their bed. Neville removed his glasses and unceremoniously shoved the now graded essays onto the nightstand. He pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
"Not so horrible, after all."