Hello and welcome to my new series, Hogwarts Shenanigans.

This is a series of vignettes (or one-shots, whatever you want to call them) all set in the same universe that explore different scenarios and ideas. They will be loosely interconnected, with each chapter being its own thing. The universe is also slightly different to canon but not so much so that it can be considered AU. There will be humour, fluff, romance, family and more. Everything you can imagine, from all eras and places. Each chapter is a different, self-contained story, though they are set in a wider shared universe. I've been wanting to write this for a long time, so I am very excited to share this with you.

There is also another challenge to this. I am going to try and post a one-shot a day, starting today, the twenty-third of December, and go on for exactly a year. This is going to be interesting.

I decided to start this story off with a heartwarming piece, before descending deep into the bowels of mischief and magic.

So, without further ado, let us begin!

In three months, Minerva McGonagall was retiring.

For thirty years she held the highly esteemed position of Headmistress of Hogwarts. For thirty years, she fought against bullying and discrimination, unthreading the long-running hatred between houses and re-stitching the tapestry. She was no fool, though. There was still a very long way to go.

She needed someone who would take what she accomplished and make it more. Make it better. Someone with a kind heart, a steady head, patience, loyalty to both the school and their morals. A gentle person who could also be stern, who knew how to teach. Someone who she trusted, who she knew would treat the position with the respect it deserved and not use it to their own advantage.

Time to go and talk to them.

Neville Longbottom, fifty-three years old, puttered around Greenhouse Three. Grey streaked his dark hair, crows feet spreading out from the edge of his eyes. Smile lines surrounded his mouth, signs of a happy life. Others would curse the signs of age. Not Neville. Inside his quarters, there was a little ceramic sign that read, 'Do not regret growing old for it is a privilege denied to many.' After the war, it was something he wholeheartedly believed in.

As well as being the Herbology Professor at Hogwarts, he was Head of Gryffindor House and Deputy Headmaster. He adored the positions. The duties, though there were many, were taken upon with a vigour not seen since Headmistress McGonagall was in charge of the house. He liked to think that the students as fond of him as he was of them. Every time they smiled, or laughed, lit his heart aflutter with joy.

Some might say his life was simple. Boring. It was anything but. And little did Neville Longbottom know, his life was about to become a whole lot more interesting.

A sharp knock sounded on the frame of the glasshouse. Without looking up, he already knew who it was. Only one indomitable witch knocked in such a succinct manner.

"Professor, come in!" He finished up with the plant he was currently tending to. It was a descendant of the Mimbulus Mimbletonia his grandmother gave him all those years ago and was thriving under his care. With a swish of his wand, he cleared all the excess dirt away from the workbench. On second thought, he did the same to his clothes.

"How many times have I told you to call me Minerva?" she chuckled, walking over to the workbench. Neville glared at a particularly cheeky Devil's Snare as she went under it. The plant practically wilted under his eyes. "You've been working here for thirty years already, I think you can drop the 'professor'."

"I don't think that's ever going to happen." Neville paused for a second, sending a cheeky glance her way. "Professor."

"You never learn, do you?"

"Not with this, no." He wiped his hands down on his shirt (so much for the spell to get rid of it) and invited McGonagall over to the small corner of the greenhouse he kept clean. A well-worn desk and chair sat there, as well as supplies for writing. On the corner, a small wireless radio perched.

Neville duplicated the seat and offered the original to McGonagall. She sat down with a small smile. For some reason, his heart started to beat a bit quicker. That smile...there was something about it that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It reminded him of something from his past.

"You're probably wondering what I'm here about."

"Seeing as you haven't told me, yeah. Nothing bad, I presume?"

She shifted slightly in her seat. "Depends on what you think is bad, I suppose."

"Well, go on." Neville leaned forward in his seat. He was unable to deny the excitement snapping through his veins.

"You are aware that I am retiring in three months, correct?" Neville nodded. "You are also aware that I am yet to find a replacement to take the position of Headmaster. I've done quite the extensive search looking for a suitable Headmaster. The only person that I am comfortable giving the position to is you."

There was a moment of silence. Neville's eyes widened imperceptibly. "Professor...what?"

"You heard me correctly, Neville. I want you to be the next Headmaster of Hogwarts. I believe that you will be perfect for the position. No one else even came close to your level of suitability."

She leaned back in her chair. Neville suddenly saw how old she was. The years weathered her, wrinkles lining her face even more than when he was a student. McGonagall was well over a century old, her shockingly white hair pulled back into a bun, severe as ever. If he didn't know how strong her character was, Neville would peg her for someone who would keel over at a moments notice. Her body was just that frail, save for her impossibly strict posture. It was no secret that every day she came closer to her deathbed, every step she took possibly the last. She knew, having come to peace with it a long time ago.

Neville swallowed, suddenly feeling as if the world was squatting on his shoulders with no intent to leave. "What makes me suitable?" He mentally cursed himself. Of all the asinine things to ask it had to be that. No. It wasn't the question itself, merely the phrasing. Merely. The phrasing was a big problem. Here he was, sitting at his soil encrusted desk, with Headmistress McGonagall across from him, and all he could do was ask silly questions.

"Neville, you're overthinking again," laughed McGonagall.

He blinked owlishly, a deer caught in the headlights. He was. Overthinking, that is. One of his fatal flaws, he did it when presented with big news or when he made a grievous mistake. If anything qualified as big news, it was this.

"You caught me," he sighed, putting his head in his hands. "I'm scared, is all. After all these years, I still doubt myself, whether I'm deserving of being Head of Gryffindor. I love being here so much." He cleared his throat, sitting up straight and looking McGonagall dead in the eyes. "In your eyes, what makes me capable of the position of Headmaster?" The phrasing was better that time, he could give himself that.

She smiled softly, the corners of her eyes crinkling. "There are so many things, where do you want me to start? Your students adore you, just as you adore them. You've been here for decades and know the ins and outs of the school. Your enthusiasm for the job is unmatched, perhaps only Charlie coming close. And I trust you. You would do so much good for the school because you care. The last thing you would do is hurt those around you. You're inherently good, Neville. You're the perfect replacement for me to lead Hogwarts into a new era."

A single tear pricked his right eye, running down his cheek. "You thought about it that much?"

"It's my job to think about it. The last this I want is some disorderly lout taking over the school." She crossed her arms. "So, what do you say?"

"I need some time to think about it."

"I wouldn't expect any less."

There was a beat of silence then:

"This is huge!" Neville gestured grandly as he spoke, eyes beginning to shine with the possibilities the position presented. "Thing things I could do, the problems I could solve!" McGonagall seemed rather perturbed from the abrupt turnaround in Neville's mood. Her fingers tapped on the desk and she hummed amusedly. The sound was pleasant.

For the next hour, they talked about nothing and everything in particular. Neville often brought up his plants, and McGonagall her prize students. Eventually, she departed with a warm farewell, leaving Neville to his tumultuous thoughts.

Three months later, Hogwarts gained a new Headmaster.

And what a Headmaster he was.

The first chapter is done! I really enjoyed writing this. Let's see how this series goes.

Question of the chapter: If you could travel anywhere, where would it be and why?

Sincerely,
Mariadoria

:)