Letters

Neville walked into the Leaky Cauldron on a warm July evening. He was hot and tired, after spending the day in a Hogwarts greenhouse working with some of the more dangerous plants. His thoughts ran in circles. Professor Sprout had told him that afternoon she was retiring and would not be back for the next school year. He waved absently at Hannah behind the bar and went upstairs.

Sprout had hinted that the job was Neville's, if he wanted it.

Did he?

It was something Neville dreamed about since his first year.

Neville stripped off his filthy t-shirt and jeans and stepped into the shower. He scrubbed the potting soil and dragon dung fertilizer from under his nails. Neville let the hot water run over his head. He knew he had to talk to Hannah before he did anything concrete. He thought it was almost funny. He had always seen Harry as a teacher, and here he was, about to apply for the job.

Neville came out of the bathroom, rubbing a towel over his hair. 'Something on your mind?' He jumped, dropping the towel. He hadn't seen Hannah sitting on the foot of their bed.

'Do you think I'd be a good teacher?' he asked.

'Yes, you would. What brought this on?'

'Herbology job's open.' Neville pulled on some clean clothes

'And you want it?'

'Yes. Very much.' Neville surprised himself.

'Why don't you owl McGonagall? You never know.' Hannah stood up, walked to the door, and turned back to Neville, 'Your mum and dad would be really proud of you.' She went up on her toes, kissed him on the cheek and went back downstairs.

Neville took out a piece of parchment.

Professor McGonagall,

Professor Sprout informed me this afternoon that she would not be returning to school for the new school term in September.

I know I'm young, but I'd love to have a shot at the position. I've been helping Professor Sprout with the greenhouses over the summers since I left school, and I work for the greenhouse that supplies St. Mungo's with the plants and herbs for its potions ingredients.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

Neville Longbottom

Neville sealed the letter and set it on his desk. He'd send it out on his way in to work in the morning.

*****

A couple of days later, an owl tapped on the window of Neville and Hannah's flat over the pub. Neville opened the window and let the owl in. A letter addressed to Neville in Minerva McGonagall's angular handwriting was tied to its leg. Neville untied the letter, and gave the owl a few Owl Treats. It flew off.

Neville set the letter on the desk, and wouldn't open it. He headed downstairs for breakfast and went to the greenhouse.

The letter still sat on his desk when he came home.

It was still there when he finished his shower.

And still there when he ate dinner.

And still there when he climbed into bed.

Neville felt the mattress give slightly as Hannah sat next to him. 'Are you going to open this? If I remember McGonagall, she's expecting an answer soon.'

'What if it says "Sorry, Longbottom, but you're really not the type we want to have teaching young witches and wizards at Hogwarts?" I just don't want to read that.' He picked a loose thread in the hem of his t-shirt.

'You want me to open it?' Hannah asked gently.

Neville turned over and buried his head in his pillow. 'Would you mind terribly?'

'Not at all, dear.' Hannah settled on the bed, and opened the letter. She scanned it. 'I think you might want to read this.' She held the parchment out to Neville. Neville propped himself up on his elbows and took the parchment.

Dear Mr. Longbottom,

Well, Neville, you beat me to it. I was just about to offer you the job outright when I received your letter.

Pomona recommended you very highly for the position. She says you're one of the best Herbology students she's ever had, and your work in the school greenhouses has proven to be most valuable.

I can't think of another person who would do as well with this position as you, Neville.

Please send a reply soon.

Sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Headmistress

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry

Neville grinned like a child on Christmas morning.

The next morning he sent a reply back to Professor McGonagall.

It consisted of one word.

Yes!