Shadows Of Yesterday

Chapter One: The Arrival of Longbottom

Clouds loomed in the night sky above Hogwarts Castle. The grounds were quiet, as were the hallways. The summer’s warmth was just beginning to leave the air, and the crisp bite of autumn was present with nightfall.

A lone, cloaked figure strode up the lawn towards the castle. A worn leather bag was slung across his back, and he carried another in his hand. His thick, black robes billowed out behind him . He was an older man, but that did not show in his posture. He kept his broad shoulders straight, and walked with his head held high. He was taller than just about anyone he’d met at 6’7” and an air of confidence seemed to follow him wherever he went. A hood cast dark shadow over his face, although that wasn’t important to the woman waiting for him by the door. She’d seen his face many times before. The other changes were most noticeable to her.

She held a candle in one hand, and it‘s flame flickered slightly in the wind, threatening to go out. She held up her other hand to shield the tiny fire.

She was a somewhat short woman of average build, and barely came to the approaching mans shoulder. Her once dark hair was now streaked with grey. She had dark eyes that held no emotion at the moment, and lines of weariness had taken over her face.

The approaching man finally stopped a few feet in front of her. Both stood uneasily for a moment, unsure what to say to their former school mate.

"Neville."

"Hermione."

"I’m to take you to see Professor McGonagall," said Hermione stiffly.

"Why are we being so formal? We’re old friends, aren’t we?" Neville asked in a much more relaxed tone.

"Of course. But it’s not everyday a world-renowned Auror comes to teach at Hogwarts." Immediately, Neville tensed up again. His eyes became guarded, and he spoke more quietly.

"I’m not a real Auror, you know that. You-know-who was killed before I even began my training. I only rounded up a few stray Death Eaters. Besides, kids these days don’t even know what an Auror is," Neville looked up sharply, "Shall we go inside?"

"Of course. Professor McGonagall’s waiting for us."

"Can’t believe she’s still Headmistress," said Neville as they headed down the stone hallway, "Or that Snape finally got the Defence Against the Dark Arts job. I hear you’re head of Gryffindor as well. Is that true?"

"Yes, and I teach Arithmancy,” she said. They walked in silence for some time before Hermione spoke again. “ How long do you intend on teaching here? I never thought you’d be one for History of Magic."

"I intend to stay here until these kids learn what they need to know," he said sombrely . Hermione cast him a stern look, but said nothing. They’d arrived at McGonagall’s office.

"I think it’s best if I go now. The password’s Portkey."

"All right then. I’ll see you in the morning."

Hermione nodded and walked off down the hall. Once she was gone, Neville recited the password and entered McGonagall’s office. She was sitting at her desk, seemingly busy with some papers . She looked particularly old and weary now, but just as stern as ever. Her grey hair was still pulled back in a tight bun. He knew the years after his graduation had been very hard on Hogwarts. He could only imagine how difficult it must have been for her, with the position of Headmistress thrown on her so suddenly.

"Ah, you’re here Longbottom," she said in the same strict tone she’d always used when addressing him, "It is my understanding that you wished to see me upon your arrival?"

"Yes Professor McGonagall."

"Please, call me Minerva. We’re both teachers now."

Neville nodded, barely registering what she’d said. All his previous confidence left him as he stood before McGonagall, and he felt more like the trembling schoolboy he’d once been, than the self assured man he had become. He cleared his throat and continued, despite his nerves.

"I want to change the curriculum for History of Magic." McGonagall raised her eyebrows.

“I know what you’re thinking Longbottom, but I’m afraid it’s out of the question. The Ministry would throw a fit! Not to mention the children’s parents. They’re still too young."

"I know that," said Neville defensively, "but it still happened. And they’re not too young. People underestimate young minds these days. We can’t keep sweeping things under the rug. We owe it to everyone! We owe it to ourselves! It’s been thirty years now! How long is everyone going to pretend nothing happened!?" Neville said, a little more loudly than he’d intended.

"Mr. Longbottom! Control yourself! I understand your point, and for that reason I’ll consider it. But for the seventh years only," she said sharply, "Some of them need to be allowed to keep their innocence. You of all people should know that. You may leave now."

"Thank you." With that said, Neville swept out of the office.

Once Neville had left, McGonagall began to go over her paper’s again. However, she found herself unable to concentrate, and his words kept repeating themselves in her head.

“What am I getting myself into?"