The next day, after breakfast, Neville decided to head over to the greenhouses, bringing some of the plants Luna had sent him for Sprout. She greeted him with delight and enthusiasm, exclaiming over the Reciting Peony and the Pearls of Wisdom, and reminding him again to bring over a cutting of the Unicorn's Umbrella when it was big enough.
"It's thriving in the pub, really. Shouldn't be too long. It's already sending out little exploratory tendrils."
"I imagine a pub would be a fine place for it - they do like to be around people." She raised her wand, carefully drawing a stream of small pebbles into the bottom of a pot for drainage, before adding a layer of rich soil. "Have you thought about what I asked you yesterday, Longbottom?"
"Yes, and I'm going to talk to the Minister about it tomorrow. I want the position, I want it very much. but I need to know that I'm not leaving other people in the lurch."
"That's fair, dear, that's more than fair. If you need me to speak with Kingsley - or with your grandmother - just let me know. There's really no one else I would trust with this position, and I'm willing to fight for you if I need to."
"Thanks, Professor. That means a lot to me. I'm not used to being fought over."
"According to young Abbott, there are women lining up nightly in the Leaky Cauldron for the privilege."
He snorted. "She's exaggerating just a bit there. Yeah, I get hit on more than I used to, which isn't saying much. But they don't want me, they want the war hero in their imaginations." Hannah notices that sort of thing? He could feel the tips of his ears go pink.
"The war hero is every bit as much you as the Herbologist is, you know."
"It doesn't feel like me. It feels like a nightmare I've woken up from but can't quite shake."
She nodded. "Understandable. Give it time, lad. You've been through hell and back."
They had worked in companionable silence for a while when the door to the greenhouse opened, and the Headmistress walked in. "Good morning, Pomona. Good morning, Longbottom, it's good to see you here. "
"Thank you, Headmistress, it's good to be here again." He smiled at McGonagall as he eased the plant he was holding carefully into the pot, nudging aside the loose soil to make room.
Her lips twitched up. "You do look quite at home here, but then, you always have. Pomona, do you have the injury report for the fourth-year class?"
"Yes, right here." She waved her wand, deftly summoning a roll of parchment from the desk. "Not too bad this year, just a couple of Bubotuber incidents. Mostly youthful carelessness."
"Well and good. Thank you. Longbottom, when you're done here, would you come by my office? I'd like a word."
"Yes, Headmistress."
He felt eleven years old again as he knocked on the door and was admitted. McGonagall had made few changes to Dumbledore's office, though it was substantially tidier than it had been, and there were two new portraits on the wall. The picture of Dumbledore gave him a cheerful smile and a nod, which he returned, but he carefully avoided looking at the portrait of Snape.
"Pomona has already, I presume, told you what she discussed with me about her plans for the Herbology position? I trust you will accept - she will take no other answer from you, and neither will I."
"Of course, Headmistress. I'd be a fool not to." He paused, and swallowed hard. "But...why me? There've got to be any number of herbologists with far more experience and skill who would give their right arms to work here."
"There are, certainly. Though with a year or two of Pomona's personal instruction, and perhaps a few field expeditions, you will be the equal of any of them. However, it is not quite your skills as a herbologist, valuable though those are, which matter most. Tell me, Neville Longbottom, what is the first and primary responsibility of any teacher at Hogwarts?" She raised an eyebrow at him.
"To keep the students safe." The answer came from him without hesitation.
She gave a sharp, approving nod. "Indeed. Teaching is vital, but wizarding is a hazardous business and dead students cannot learn. And then there is the matter of keeping Hogwarts itself safe, as a place of learning and refuge. There are always a certain...core of the professorial staff who consider ourselves first and foremost as guardians of Hogwarts, protectors of this place and the people within. That has been, for many years, myself, Pomona, Filius, Severus and of course Albus." She nodded at the two portraits, who inclined their heads in return, Snape solemn, Dumbledore smiling broadly. "And now, Severus and Albus are dead, and Pomona wishes to retire, so we need to replenish our numbers with professors who know their subject material, can teach effectively – and can and will serve as Hogwarts' guardians at need. And you, of all people, know what it is to be a guardian of this place. Given the opportunity, and the need, you risked your safety and your life to protect Hogwarts, its students, and its values, as readily and effectively as any professor, myself included."
"This is my home. I love this place. I'd do anything to keep it safe." It felt almost like an Unbreakable Vow, he thought bizarrely.
"Yes, precisely. Which is why you are the perfect choice for the next Professor of Herbology. And Longbottom...nothing makes a teacher happier than to welcome her student as a colleague. You have done me, and all of us, proud. Did I not tell you more than once that all you needed was a bit of confidence?" Her smile warmed him to his core, and was echoed by another from Dumbledore's portrait.
"I second that, young Neville. Well done, well done indeed. We shall see your picture on this wall someday, mark my words, and I look forward to it. We'll chat over old times and tell stories of the Second Wizarding War to scare the younger Headmasters." The blue eyes twinkled at him from inside the frame.
"You give me too much credit, sir." Headmaster? Only in my wildest dreams...
"I don't think anyone's ever given you quite enough, lad." Dumbledore looked regretful. "For which I apologize."
He nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Glancing around the room, hoping for a distraction from the embarrassing wave of emotion that was suddenly overtaking him, his eyes caught the small silver basin, sitting on a table, as though it was only a bowl, nothing terribly special, but...an idea occurred to him.
"Headmistress? May I ask a favor?"
"Yes, Longbottom?" Her eyebrows arched up.
"While I'm here, would it be possible for you to extract a memory from me of Professor Lupin, for Teddy to see in the Pensieve when the time comes? I want him to be able to see firsthand what kind of man his father was. I have no memories of my own parents, before...and I've always regretted that."
"Oh, Neville." Professor McGonagall's face softened, and she was almost speechless. "Yes, of course. And I...I have some memories of your parents, as students, which I would be glad to share with you anytime you like."
"Thank you. I might take you up on that later, actually. But for now..."
She nodded, and placed the tip of her wand gently on the side of his head. "Think back to the memory you want to give me. Picture it in your head."
He nodded, and closed his eyes, rooting himself as Dr. Kowalski had taught him the day before, and remembering. He heard again the sneering voice, felt the scorn and the cold pit of shame in his stomach...
"Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Ms. Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."
"I was hoping that Neville would assist me with the first stage of the operation, and I am sure he will perform it admirably."
A surge of fear mixed with gratitude raced through him, gratitude for this new professor who wasn't willing to take Snape's opinion of him at face value, who was willing to let him prove himself, and fear that he would somehow screw it up again, disappoint Lupin, show him just how right Snape was. But Lupin was encouraging, and kindly but firmly talked him through it, helping him face down the fearsome boggart – in Snape's own form, no less- and emerge successful. At the end, when he awarded Neville twice the points for facing his boggart twice, it felt like a triumph.
That's the sort of teacher I want to be, he thought. I hope Teddy understands.
McGonagall carefully put the silver, wispy memory into a vial. "Thank you for this."
"And I'll see if I can't get Harry to contribute some too."
She nodded. "That would be most appreciated. Particularly by young Lupin. And...Longbottom?"
"Yes?"
"I understand the Hufflepuffs are trying to steal you. Especially Miss Abbott." She gave him a mock-stern look.
"Well, I, uh..." he stammered, unable to think of any sensible response.
"Would it surprise you to find out that I approve?" Her voice was uncharacteristically soft.
"What?" He looked up, feeling a bit betrayed.
"No fear, Longbottom. You'll always be a Gryffindor, you've proven that many times over. And you are one of mine, never doubt it – I had to remind Pomona of that fact many a time during your student years. I'm not giving you up that easily. But...I have spent a lifetime raising children to go to war, to be strong and brave, and I have seen too many of them maimed and killed. It does my heart good to see you finally able to turn your time and energy to more peaceful efforts."
He noticed the portrait of Dumbledore was wiping away tears. This war has left scars on everyone. Even the pictures on the wall.
"Yes, ma'am. On that note, Hannah's offered me a cooking lesson this afternoon, and I'd rather not be late."
"Go, by all means, everyone should know how to cook. And give Miss Abbott my regards." Her eyes twinkled at him, and he blushed.
"Thank you, ma'am."
"One moment, if you please." The portrait of Snape spoke, unexpectedly, an odd tone to his voice.
"Yes, sir?" Neville tried to control the involuntary nervousness that still rose in his stomach at that voice, and faced the picture head-on. Why does he still terrify me more than Voldemort ever did?
"I believe I owe you an apology, Mr. Longbottom, and an explanation." He sounded as though he was choking on the words.
Well, that was...not what I expected to hear.
"I treated you appallingly when you were my student, and I deeply regret it, but I would like you to know, I did not do so without a purpose. You are aware, perhaps, that you, instead of Mr. Potter, might have been the Chosen One of the prophecy?"
"Yes, sir. Harry told me."
"It was Voldemort's original intention to kill both of you, but that plan, as you know, failed, thanks to..." his voice caught, and were there tears in the professor's eyes? "thanks to Lily Potter, leaving her son clearly marked as the boy in the prophecy. Therefore, I feared that Voldemort would turn his attentions to you as a possible recruit. You are a pureblood, a member of the Sacred Twenty-Eight, and your parents' magical abilities and strength of will were quite well-known. You would have been most useful to him."
Neville heard again the silky, serpentine voice creeping into his ears, "You show spirit and bravery, and you come of noble stock. You will make a very valuable Death Eater. We need your kind, Neville Longbottom." Unconsciously, his mouth shaped the reply he'd given then. "When hell freezes over."
Snape's image nodded. "Precisely, Longbottom, precisely. But I had not yet seen you show the strength of will, then, that you did later, and I was afraid, with you bullied and neglected by your peers, that you might be tempted by Voldemort's promises of recognition, honor, prestige, as others were in your place."
"Never. Not after what happened to my parents." The thought made his stomach revolt.
"I know that now. But my actions then were designed to serve two purposes. First, to convince Voldemort, and the future Death Eaters among my Slytherin students, that you were incompetent and incapable, unworthy of recruitment. Second, to keep you afraid and suspicious of me, since I knew you associated me with the Death Eaters. And...when I spoke ill of you to Professor Lupin, it was with the full knowledge that Remus Lupin thought ill of me, and that any student I disliked could be sure of his kind and supportive attention. Please believe me, my duty and my intent was to protect you – but I am sorry that I was required to be cruel to you in the process."
Neville thought for a moment, turning the new information over in his mind.
"That...makes a lot of sense, actually. Thank you, sir. For the explanation...and for the protection."
The portrait nodded, gravely. Nothing more needed to be said.