Opposites

As the stars twinkled above Hogwarts one night, a young man made his way up the stone stairs into the entrance hall of the castle. Sweating nervously, he began walking towards the Great Hall, where he and his comrades had shared meals together for six or seven years of their lives. The memories flooded back even as he stood to take a quick glance at a suit of armor which had moved. The man hoped it was not Peeves, the poltergeist who had taunted him for much of his schooling. But no, it was just the suit, patrolling as usual, much to the man's relief, for he was nervous enough as it was.

Finally, his feet had carried him to the Great Hall, where candles were lit and hanging from the ceiling. The young man had to admit, the warmth of the candles radiated and beckoned, making him a bit less nervous. 'This will be okay,' he thought to himself, until he noticed the long panel of employees that were seated in the front of the large dining hall. 'Oh, who am I kidding? I'm never going to make it out of here alive.'

His eyes, which had been fixated on his feet the entire time, slowly rose as he made his way to that long row of professors. As soon as his eyes were lifted, they met hers. That pair of stern gray eyes surrounded by a pair of rectangular wire-rimmed glasses. "H-h-headmistress Mc-Mc-Gonagall," the man finally managed to stutter out when he finally made it to the table. He averted his eyes once again, to nervous to make even five-second eye contact.

"Mister Longbottom," Minerva said, with a tiny bit of caring in her voice. She cared for the boy, no matter how clumsy and forgetful he was. Besides, he had helped defeat Lord Voldermort in the final battle, hadn't he? That was cause enough for anyone to like him. "You know the reason, of which you have been called here, do you not?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Professor Sprout is retiring and she has avidly suggested you as her replacement. Now, all of us here know you have an immense talent for Herbology, but we also know that you tend to be very forgetful."

Neville blushed and hung his head in shame. He knew that they had just called him here to say, "Sorry Neville, but you're not right for the job," or, "Sorry Neville, but did you actually believe for one minute that we would allow you to be a professor here at Hogwarts?"

"Nonetheless," continued McGonagall, a certain warmth in her voice. "We are all agreed that you are the best, most qualified person to fill the job. So, what do you say?"

"W-w-what?" he stuttered. "Y-y-you would actually allow m-m-me to be a--" And with that he fainted right there on the spot.

"I told you, Minerva," said Madam Pomfrey quickly, with a detectable hint of scorn in her voice. "I told you I should've brought some wet towels. I know how this boy reacts."

"Don't worry about it, Poppy, the house-elves are on duty," replied the headmistress as she clapped her hands. A house-elf came back with some wet towels, which the nurse took from her. "Thank you, Dimple, that will be all," McGonagall said and the house-elf went back to the kitchen.

Madam Pomfrey bustled down to when Neville was lying unconscious on the floor. She loosened his collar and applied a wet towel to his neck and forehead. She pulled out her wand and said, "Ennervate."

Neville tossed a bit before regaining his consciousness. "What, what happened?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head, which had an intense pain running through it. "Ouch. Why does my head hurt? Oh Merlin, did I faint?"

The nurse chuckled slightly then nodded. "Now, don't you get up until you feel well enough to do so, you hear me? We don't want that to happen again."

The boy blushed fiercely and nodded. After about thirty seconds he didn't feel as lightheaded and he sat up slowly. Even then he couldn't bring himself to look at the people sitting there. He knew they were waiting for him, he just couldn't look at them right now, and he was already mortified.

"There, there," said what had been the man's favorite professor, Pomona Sprout. She walked over to Neville and patted him on the back. "I knew you could do my job and that's why I asked you. It is a huge thing to ask and I can see why you became so, well..." She paused for a moment, trying to find the right word, "overwhelmed. Teaching at Hogwarts is a huge responsibility, but I think, no, I know you can do it. So, what do you say?"

Neville Longbottom muttered something.

"What?" everyone asked, including Sprout who was standing beside the man, whose face was beet red.

"Iwouldloveto," he said with a bit more volume, but with the same amount of speed.

"Mister Longbottom, you will have to speak up," said McGonagall a thin, knowing smile on her face. If Neville would have looked up he would have seen that the very smile the Headmistress was wearing was the same smile all the other Professors had.

"I w-w-would l-l-love to," he managed to say.

The teachers all stood up and clapped as Minerva shouted, "Welcome, Professor Longbottom, welcome to Hogwarts!"

"Is that it, Minerva, may we leave now? We oracles need our sleep to function properly," stated Sybill Trelawney, the Divination professor.

McGonagall rolled her eyes; Neville saw her and laughed inwardly. Almost all the students who had gone to Hogwarts knew of Minerva's strong dislike of Sybill.

"No, Professor Trelawney," Minerva sighed, "we still have another new inductee into our staff, in case you have forgotten."

"I am getting something," said the frizzy-haired, thin woman, shutting her eyes tightly and massaging her temples. "Ah. Oh... She's not coming. Well, in that case, I'm leaving."

As Sybill stood up to leave, a young, brown haired witch ran through the door.

"I'm here!" the witch yelled, out of breath, but she still began talking quickly, "I am so sorry I'm late! I must have lost track of time. I was trying to get here, but you see, all my clothes were dirty and I forgot the spell to clean them, so I had to look it up. So after I did that I ran outside and hailed a cab who took me to where the carriage was waiting. And then, of course, the wheel falls off. So that is why it took me so long to get here."

"Miss Granger, do you mean to tell me all of that happened? You poor dear," cooed the headmistress. Neville thought he detected a hint of sarcasm in the woman's voice.

"Y-yes," replied Hermione uncomfortably, shifting around a bit.

"Do you mean to tell me you were spending time with Ronald?"

"Err... Well, umm..."

"Lying is not a way to start a new career, Miss Granger. I'm sure you're aware of that."

"I'm sorry, Headmistress. I should've told the truth. But it was the last day I would see him for who knows how long and he's in such danger all the time. I just worry, Headmistress, I worry."

"That's better," said McGonagall, cracking a smile. It was then that Neville noticed that the wrinkles on her face had multiplied since the last time he saw her. Stress, he supposed. They hadn't been able to keep teachers very long lately. Everyone was still uneasy that a new Dark Lord would surface. That meant everyone was very shifty and liked to move about. He knew how it was. He himself had moved about seven times in the last five years.

"Now, you know very well, Miss Granger, that we're asking you to teach Transfiguration."

"Yes ma'am," replied Hermione. "And I accept your offer with gratitude."

"We have discussed it among ourselves and have decided that after the shifting that's been going on around Hogwarts lately, that you should become the head of the Gryffindor house."

"I would love to!" Hermione said excitedly.

"Then that settles it."

All the teachers clapped for Hermione just as they did for Neville. It was at that moment that Hermione noticed Neville, who was still sitting on the ground, for the first time.

"NEVILLE!" she shrieked, running over to him, her arms outstretched.

Neville stood up to meet her hug, which may have been a mistake, because he was almost knocked out cold in the process. "I've missed you so much, Neville!" Hermione exclaimed with glee. "Oh goodness, are you teaching too!?"

Neville managed to squeak out a "yes" despite the constriction of the hug.

"This is grand!" Hermione shouted, finally letting go of Neville. "It will be like old times!"

"Yeah, it will," Neville said, but for some reason, he didn't think it would.