"Hello, I'm N-Neville, Neville Longbottom, and I'll be your Herbology Professor," said Neville, his voice shaky. He was greeting his first year students in Greenhouse One, seeing all the little faces that were staring at him. One boy reached for the prized Mimbulus Mimbletonia and immediately jerked his hand away, dodging a dark green jet of Stinksap. Neville concealed a smile; the boy reminded him of himself, a blundering fool. But I'm going to do great today, he told himself. Like a real professor on their first day on the job. No sweat, no worries.
The lesson continued acceptably, and finally the students left the greenhouses, smears of soil decorating their robes and weary conversations taking place. Neville watched from the Greenhouse doorway, sighing at himself. Professor Sprout never would have forgotten the distinction between Anjelica herbs and Arnica sunflowers in front of thirty students, and be corrected by a precocious first year with bushy hair like Hermione's. Professor Sprout never would have stuttered when saying her own name.
Immediately after his lesson was lunch, and Neville was relieved. Living on his own in the world had made him dearly miss the great food Hogwarts had to offer. He couldn't wait to plop himself down at the Gryffindor table and sink his teeth into...
Oh. Neville shook himself out of his fantasy. He wasn't a student anymore, and he would have to sit at the staff table like the other professors. It was a rude awakening, like most of his morning so far. Why did everything have to change as soon as he came back to his old school?
Gazing longingly one last time at the loud, brash house tables, Neville faced the teachers' table that spanned the front wall of the Great Hall. Multiple seats were empty, making it impossible for him to know where his own place was. A few familiar faces stood out to him, such as Headmistress McGonagall's and Binn's slivery ghost figure, but no one pointed to a chair, most were wrapped up in talking to each other. Neville caught the eye of a young brunette who smiled, before glancing away to continue her discussion.
Helplessly, Neville stood there for a moment, absorbing the sight of the hall and thinking about his predicament. Suddenly, a much older and greyer Hagrid bounded inside and grinned at him.
"Good to see ya, Neville, s'been far too long," he said shaking his hand forcefully and showing him to a chair. "All righ' wi' the family, Neville?" he boomed, taking his own seat beside him. And more confidently now, they chatted until lunch was over.
Although Neville idolized Professor Sprout, he wasn't her. He was a different person, who she had believed would do great things, who didn't have to be like everyone else to achieve his dream of teaching Herbology. He could be Neville Longbottom, who he knew at least some people loved and were proud to know.
Written for:
Fanfiction Tournaments Competition, Topic: Hogwarts professors
Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry- Arithmancy, Task: I would like you to write about somebody's day (or more) at work.