Neville Appreciation Day Ficlet! (DH-compliant)
So, for those unaware, 1 September is Neville Appreciation Day, and I wrote a ficlet last night to commemorate it. Because Neville was, is, and always will be a rock star. :)
Title: The Right Sort
Rating: G is for Gen
Summary: Neville watches the Sorting in his first year as Hogwarts herbology professor.
Notes: betaed by my mom because she rocks. 650 words.
He’d made it clear to his gran what a bad idea it was. He’d told Professor Sprout he couldn’t do it. He’d very kindly explained to Professor McGonagall why he wasn’t qualified. He’d told Dumbledore’s portrait he just wasn’t the right sort for a teacher. And they’d gone and given him the job anyway. So that now Neville had to sit at the staff table and look grown up and try not to spill pumpkin juice on any of his new colleagues.
“You’re a hero, Nev,” Harry had told him over dinner a few days back, and Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had chimed in enthusiastically. But being a hero didn’t make him qualified to teach, to show the next generation of wizarding kids what they needed to know to get along in the world. He’d killed a snake with Godric Gryffindor’s sword. There wasn’t going to be much call for snake-killing in class.
“All righ’, Neville? Yeh look a bit green,” said Hagrid, leaning towards him.
“Yeah, thanks, fine,” replied Neville quickly, looking down at his empty plate.
“I was nervous my firs’ year teachin’ too. You’ll be fine once yeh start yer lessons.” Hagrid clapped him on the back so hard he knocked his ribs against the table.
When he’d got his breath back, Neville realised the hall was silent and the Sorting was about to begin. The first years were lined up, small and quivering, against one wall, and Neville remembered his own Sorting. The hat had sighed to itself and said, “Not a lot of confidence, I see. That won’t do you any favours. Plenty of talent, yes, that’s obvious. But what will you do with it? You’d have great friends in Hufflepuff.” Neville remembered his relief at hearing that. He hadn’t had many friends before. Gran generally scared them off the first time they came round to play. But the hat continued. “Hmm, perhaps nothing so easy. You might need a little bit of a challenge.” Neville had whispered “no, no, please,” but the hat didn’t seem interested in this protest. “A brave boy who doesn’t know his own courage. Well, I know where they’ll force it out of you: GRYFFINDOR!” He had run off with the hat still on his head, and when he took his place at the Gryffindor table, people were still chuckling at him. Yeah, Gryffindor would force him to find his courage, all right.
“Atwater, Arachne” went to Hufflepuff, and Neville watched her new classmates scooting aside to make a place for her, smiling warmly. “Austin, Harriet” was sent off to Ravenclaw so fast, Neville wasn’t sure she’d even sat down. “Best, Timothy” walked quite calmly to the Slytherin table, while “Brantucci, Olivia” ran for Gryffindor like she couldn’t wait to arrive. Professor Flitwick worked his way down the list, reading off the names in his squeaky voice, but Neville didn’t think any of the new students waited for a decision as long as he had. Maybe the Sorting Hat had gotten quicker in the last fifteen years. Or maybe Neville had been a particularly tough case.
“Lupin, Theodore.” Neville thought there should have been a reverent hush after that name, the way he remembered there being after Harry’s. But all the students went on chattering as usual as Teddy sat down and Flitwick placed the hat on his head. He sat. And sat. And sat. Neville could see his shoulders trembling. “SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat at last.
Teddy took it off and stood up, looking terrified. He glanced over his shoulder at the staff table, and Neville caught his eye, and mouthed, “It’ll be all right.” Teddy gave him a watery smile in return, squared his shoulders, and started off to meet his housemates.
Neville took a deep breath. If Teddy Lupin could be a Slytherin, he himself could certainly be a professor.
~fin~
So, have you hugged your Neville today?
Title: The Right Sort
Rating: G is for Gen
Summary: Neville watches the Sorting in his first year as Hogwarts herbology professor.
Notes: betaed by my mom because she rocks. 650 words.
He’d made it clear to his gran what a bad idea it was. He’d told Professor Sprout he couldn’t do it. He’d very kindly explained to Professor McGonagall why he wasn’t qualified. He’d told Dumbledore’s portrait he just wasn’t the right sort for a teacher. And they’d gone and given him the job anyway. So that now Neville had to sit at the staff table and look grown up and try not to spill pumpkin juice on any of his new colleagues.
“You’re a hero, Nev,” Harry had told him over dinner a few days back, and Ginny, Ron, and Hermione had chimed in enthusiastically. But being a hero didn’t make him qualified to teach, to show the next generation of wizarding kids what they needed to know to get along in the world. He’d killed a snake with Godric Gryffindor’s sword. There wasn’t going to be much call for snake-killing in class.
“All righ’, Neville? Yeh look a bit green,” said Hagrid, leaning towards him.
“Yeah, thanks, fine,” replied Neville quickly, looking down at his empty plate.
“I was nervous my firs’ year teachin’ too. You’ll be fine once yeh start yer lessons.” Hagrid clapped him on the back so hard he knocked his ribs against the table.
When he’d got his breath back, Neville realised the hall was silent and the Sorting was about to begin. The first years were lined up, small and quivering, against one wall, and Neville remembered his own Sorting. The hat had sighed to itself and said, “Not a lot of confidence, I see. That won’t do you any favours. Plenty of talent, yes, that’s obvious. But what will you do with it? You’d have great friends in Hufflepuff.” Neville remembered his relief at hearing that. He hadn’t had many friends before. Gran generally scared them off the first time they came round to play. But the hat continued. “Hmm, perhaps nothing so easy. You might need a little bit of a challenge.” Neville had whispered “no, no, please,” but the hat didn’t seem interested in this protest. “A brave boy who doesn’t know his own courage. Well, I know where they’ll force it out of you: GRYFFINDOR!” He had run off with the hat still on his head, and when he took his place at the Gryffindor table, people were still chuckling at him. Yeah, Gryffindor would force him to find his courage, all right.
“Atwater, Arachne” went to Hufflepuff, and Neville watched her new classmates scooting aside to make a place for her, smiling warmly. “Austin, Harriet” was sent off to Ravenclaw so fast, Neville wasn’t sure she’d even sat down. “Best, Timothy” walked quite calmly to the Slytherin table, while “Brantucci, Olivia” ran for Gryffindor like she couldn’t wait to arrive. Professor Flitwick worked his way down the list, reading off the names in his squeaky voice, but Neville didn’t think any of the new students waited for a decision as long as he had. Maybe the Sorting Hat had gotten quicker in the last fifteen years. Or maybe Neville had been a particularly tough case.
“Lupin, Theodore.” Neville thought there should have been a reverent hush after that name, the way he remembered there being after Harry’s. But all the students went on chattering as usual as Teddy sat down and Flitwick placed the hat on his head. He sat. And sat. And sat. Neville could see his shoulders trembling. “SLYTHERIN!” shouted the hat at last.
Teddy took it off and stood up, looking terrified. He glanced over his shoulder at the staff table, and Neville caught his eye, and mouthed, “It’ll be all right.” Teddy gave him a watery smile in return, squared his shoulders, and started off to meet his housemates.
Neville took a deep breath. If Teddy Lupin could be a Slytherin, he himself could certainly be a professor.
~fin~
So, have you hugged your Neville today?