For those wondering, this scene takes place forty years after the Battle of Hogwarts. Demelza Robbins, Terry Boot, Eleanor Branstone, and Graham Pritchard are all names from canon, belonging to Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin, respectively. In my universe, they teach (also respectively) Astronomy, Transfiguration, Muggle Studies, and Potions. Also only in my universe, McGonagall served as Head for five years following the battle. When she retired, Professor Sinastra, formerly the Astronomy teacher, took her place (because Flitwick preferred to remain in the classroom rather than become an administrator). She led for fifteen years (and is Headmaster throughout the majority of Pieces) before Margaret Camry took over. Margaret Camry is my own creation. She taught History of Magic because they finally booted Binns out after the war.

And that's what you missed on Cassie's Ridiculously Extended Headcanon Timeline! :)

Enjoy this final chapter!

When Headmistress Camry announced her retirement, all anyone could talk about in the break room was who would be replacing her.

The last three times a new Head of Hogwarts had needed to be named, the succession had been clear. Professor McGonagall had taken over after the war, and Professor Sinastra had succeeded her when Professor Flitwick had made it clear that he would rather stay in the classroom with his students than become an administrator. When Sinastra and Flitwick had retired the same year, the position had gone to Margaret Camry, the only instructor at the school who had more than fifteen or twenty years educational experience (she'd been hired after the war like Neville and several others, but she was thirty years older and had already logged two decades with the Department of Magical Education).

But that had been almost twenty years ago, and now seniority was not so obvious. Those who had been at the school the longest - Terry Boot, Eleanor Branstone, Demelza Robbins, Graham Pritchard, and of course, Neville himself - had all been hired within five years of each other. Eleanor technically had the seniority by one year, but Terry had been hand-picked by McGonagall, who had taught Transfiguration and served as Headmistress for a year while Terry finished school and earned his NEWTs. Then Demelza was one of the most innovative forward thinkers Neville knew, Graham Pritchard was every parent's favorite professor, and Ellie had been Camry's Deputy for the better part of a decade.

Yes, there were strong arguments to be made for any of his four fellow seniority holders (although, "Let me tell you, they're going to get a strong argument if they try to offer me the post," was what Ellie had to say about it. "I have gray hairs enough without adding that stress to my life! Deputy is bad enough - Flitwick had the right idea."), but when they asked Neville who he thought was most likely to get the offer, his reply drew exclamations of incredulity from around the table.

"Harry," he said simply.

"What! Harry doesn't teach here!" Demelza retorted with a laugh.

"He just finished a teaching rotation two years ago, what are you talking about?" Graham broke in. Demelza dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand.

"Defense rotations don't count, the Aurors come in, teach for two or three years, then head right back to the Ministry or out in the field."

"Yes, but Harry started the rotation teaching practice," Neville pointed out. "He worked closely with the school and the Department of Education to put it in place as part of his overhaul of the Auror program, and he's come in to teach a rotation five or six times now, even if half of them were just NEWT level. He's logged ten years as an instructor here, which is as many as Calliope Bainbridge, whose name we were tossing around a bit ago."

"Also, point of interest," Terry said, "you don't have to be an instructor here to be offered the post of Head." That won almost as many outcries as Neville's naming of Harry. "It's true," Terry said, speaking over them. "It's not in any of the bylaws or guidelines. It's just precedent at this point."

"Headmaster is always given to the teacher with seniority!"

"Yes, hence my usage of the term 'precedent.'"

"Well, it doesn't matter," Ellie said, cutting over the argument before Terry could get started on a dissertation of bylaws and traditions. "Harry's not gonna leave retirement with his beautiful wife and adorable grandchildren to come be Headmaster."

"Of course he's not," Neville agreed. "He'll never accept the post, but I think they'll offer it to him."

"And when Harry doesn't take it?" Graham asked him. "Who then?"

In hindsight, he should have recognized the twinkle in his eye, should have heard the teasing underlining the questions from all of them. They'd all known. They'd all been interviewed by the Board of Governors at that point (though Terry had assured him later that no one had needed to be interviewed by the Board of Governors to know which way things were falling. His exact words had been You do know you're the only person surprised by the decision, right, Neville?)

And now here he was, standing in the doorway of the circular tower that was as familiar to him as his own name, a box full of plants in his arms, unable to quite work up the nerve to step across the threshold.

Down below, on the Hogwarts grounds, a party was raging. The official party didn't start for another half hour, but everyone who had been invited to help celebrate Neville's new title had arrived early to set up, so the party had essentially already begun. And Neville would go down and join his friends and family and colleagues, but at the moment, it was all still a bit overwhelming. But, he reminded himself, he had faced down dark wizards and possessed snakes and forty years' worth of students. He could handle moving into a new office.

"You know, I was told that this party was to honor my good friend Neville, but the man of the hour is, strangely, nowhere to be found."

Smiling, Neville turned to see Harry standing in the doorway. "Well, I was forbidden by my wife and daughter to help set up for the party, so I thought I'd start setting up my new office. Which begs the question, how did you get up here?" Neville asked, leaning against the desk and crossing his arms. "The gargoyle is password protected."

"Yes, and you, Mr. Dumbledore's Army, are predictable."

Neville laughed. "It was the first thing that came into my head, what can I say?"

Harry crossed the threshold, coming to the cabinet that Neville knew housed the Headmaster's Pensieve, and running his hand gently over the door. "You know, no matter how many I visit, I still think of this as Dumbledore's office," he said. "Can't shake it."

Neville nodded. "I don't, but then, I don't know that I ever saw it when it was Dumbledore's. To me, it's Minerva's. Or Sinastra's, or Camry's. Anyone's but mine."

"You'll get there," Harry said. "And you'll have help, after all." He gestured around at the walls surrounding them and all the sleeping portraits of Headmasters past. Sinastra's was there, and Snape's and Dumbledore's. Camry's would be installed in a few days. Minerva McGonagall's was noticeably absent. She had retired from the school thirty-some-odd years ago, but she had not followed the tradition of hanging a portrait upon her retirement. Portraits, she'd said with a sniff, were well and good for preserving the opinions and memories of those who had moved on, but until that day arrived for her, she would prefer that her thoughts on issues be communicated by her specifically, rather than some facsimile of canvas and paint. She had been adamant that if the succeeding Heads needed her advice, they could send her an owl. Neville found himself glad of that, now. He didn't know if a portrait could adequately capture her brusque no-nonsense tone and her patented over-the-spectacles eyebrow arch.

"I asked McGonagall the other day how long it took her to stop thinking of the office as Dumbledore's," Neville told Harry then.

"And?"

"She said she'd let me know as soon as it happened." They shared a smile at that, and then Neville continued. "I'm encouraged, though, that as I look around, I'm seeing the Head's office, not any one Head's in particular. The Pensieve. The books. The Sorting Hat."

Harry's eyes went right to it and he crossed the room to stand in front of it, grinning. "It tried to put me in Slytherin, you know," he said. Neville's eyebrows shot up.

"Really?"

Harry nodded. "I think it was the piece of Voldemort's soul in my head, though."

Neville considered his friend carefully. "Actually, I can see it." Harry nudged him in the side, and Neville laughed. "Sorting has always fascinated me," Neville said then. "I like to hear where people could have gone. Did you know McGonagall was a Hatstall?"

"No kidding," Harry said, the words almost a question. Neville nodded.

"Ravenclaw and Gryffindor."

"Just like Hermione. Huh. Well, I suppose that makes sense."

Neville made a sound of agreement deep in his throat, watching Harry out of the corner of his eye and wondering how long it would take him to ask.

"Hat took a while to decide with you, didn't it?"

Neville hid a smile. Not long. "It did," he confirmed. "Hufflepuff," he said then, answering the question Harry hadn't asked. "That was my debate, but it wasn't the Hat who couldn't decide. It would have placed me in seconds if I hadn't disagreed and started arguing."

Harry laughed, almost disbelieving. "You?" he asked. "Eleven-year-old Neville?"

Neville grinned and nodded. "Eleven-year-old Neville."

"And you talked it into Gryffindor. That's . . . impressive."

"Don't be too impressed. I was the one arguing for Hufflepuff."

Harry started to chuckle. "Of course you were," he said with a shake of his head. "Didn't think you were brave enough for Gryffindor?"

"You know me so well."

There was a brief silence, then Harry said, "You're going to be great, you know." Neville just shook his head, feeling some of the old telltale nerves churning in his stomach.

"Sometimes I do," he admitted softly. "Since I got the news . . . sometimes I have been positive that I can do this and that I'll be good at it, but then sometimes I'm convinced that anyone else would have been a better choice."

"Anyone else . . . like me?"

When Neville turned to face him, there was a wicked grin on Harry's face. Neville narrowed his eyes and pointed an accusing finger at his friend.

"Having a brother-in-law on the Board of Governors is a massively unfair advantage."

Harry's grin widened. "And not one I intend to give up," he responded immediately. "But seriously. You honestly thought anyone in their right mind was going to offer me the post of Headmaster? Why on earth would you think that? I'd be awful at it."

"You'd be better than you think," Neville countered. "And you're a smart choice; I still stand by that opinion. You're a great teacher; everyone who's gone through the Auror program in the last forty years will speak to that. You have authority, you lead without a second thought, you have a wonderful ability to bring people together, you understand how Hogwarts works, along with all its oddities and idiosyncrasies, and you're a well known name that no one would feel uncomfortable with."

"You do realize that you just described yourself, right, Neville? Substitute the greenhouses for the Auror program, and you just described yourself."

Neville sighed and looked away. "I just described everyone who works with me, too. That's what I doubt, Harry, when the doubts creep up. Why me in particular? Why me and not them? Everyone knows Ellie would refuse, but she'd still be a brilliant choice, she's got the diplomacy for it. Terry is more intelligent than I am, Graham is more charismatic than I am, Demelza is more outgoing than I am. So why me?"

Harry crossed his arms and considered Neville carefully. "You really don't know?" he finally asked, his voice soft and devoid of teasing. When Neville didn't answer, he said, "Because every one of those people you just named has one thing in common. They all see you as their leader."

Neville's eyes snapped to him. "But - I've never tried to be-"

"Doesn't matter. You led them during the war, then you led them at the school, and the fact that you've never tried to be just shows how naturally it comes to you. You were the only possible choice, Neville, and everyone sees that but you, which is part of why it's true. The teachers here would follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked it. You have the power to create a unified front, more than Camry, more than Sinastra, maybe even, sacrilegious as it feels to say it, maybe even more than McGonagall. You're going to create the strongest leadership team Hogwarts has seen in the last 500 years. And I can't wait to see it happen."

"No pressure," Neville said faintly. Harry smiled and clapped him on the shoulder.

"None at all," he said easily, "because it's never going to be up to you alone. You've got a team and you know how to lead them. You're going to be brilliant. Don't change a thing about what you're already doing, Neville. And come down to the party some time before it's over, yeah?"

Neville managed a smile. "I'll be down in ten minutes."

"I'm coming back up to get you if you're not."

"I'll change the gargoyle password."

"You think between Ginny, Hannah, and I, we won't be able to figure it out?" Harry asked with a smirk then, and disappeared down the stairwell, leaving Neville alone, still reeling from Harry's assessment.

He's right, you know.

The thought bloomed into his mind, and though it had been forty years since he'd last heard that voice, he knew it immediately. He turned to face the Hat once more.

"He is, is he?"

Well met, Mr. Longbottom. And yes. Now, are you ready?

A breath a laughter escaped him. "No," he said. He'd meant it to be wry, but he felt a wave of approval from the Hat.

Good, it said with conviction. Those who think they are discover very quickly how incorrect their belief is. Those who know they are not ready are more prepared for whatever might be thrown at them.

"There's something more than a little backwards in that," Neville remarked. The Hat chuckled.

Indeed there is, it agreed.

"You told me once that you were an underutilized tool."

I did.

"I don't intend to make that mistake," Neville said then. "I need all the help I can get, and you've been here over a thousand years. So. Any advice?"

There was a pause, and Neville felt at a distinct disadvantage. He felt exposed, laid bare. The Hat could see every thought and memory and doubt and hesitation in his head, but he couldn't even begin to know what the Hat was thinking. It was remarkably unfair. Finally, the Hat spoke.

Godric Gryffindor was a pompous prick, reckless, hot-headed, and arrogant, who could never admit to being wrong. Rowena Ravenclaw was cold and aloof, disdainful and judgmental of those who lacked her intelligence, thirst for knowledge, or drive to uncover wisdom. Salazar Slytherin was a good man broken and twisted by grief and loss and betrayal, who mistakenly believed that isolation was safety and mercy was a weakness. And Helga Hufflepuff had a stubborn streak a mile wide, but only when she was pushed to the very edge of it; otherwise, she was defined by her desire to avoid conflict, not through mediation, but through ignoring the problem and hoping it disappeared. This pushed her to an early grave and almost led to the destruction of the school. Do you know why I've told you this?

"Because it's important to remember that heroes and villains are human," Neville said quietly. "Regardless of what history books might have to say about them."

Quite so. A position you and those who teach alongside you are uniquely suited to understand. But it is also about balance. The Founders, before they fractured apart, balanced each other. Under your leadership the past forty years, the Houses have found that balance again.

"I haven't done that on my own," he countered quietly.

Nor will you now, the Hat replied. But you asked for my advice, Mr. Longbottom, and it is this: maintain the balance. Use all the tools at your disposal, and trust in your team, and of course, yourself.

Neville looked down, familiar, after all these years, with the burst of doubt that followed those words. No matter how old he got or how much he accomplished, he couldn't quite seem to shake the fear of not living up to someone's expectations.

"I'm scared," he finally admitted softly, because it wasn't as if the Hat didn't already know that. "Or - not scared, not really." He searched for the right words. "I know what fear and terror feel like, and this isn't that, but I worry that I won't be able to be what everyone needs. That I'll fall short of what's asked of me, and those relying on me will suffer because of my inability to succeed. I doubt myself."

Yes, as you always have. Some things require a lifetime to overcome. But while all you see are your shortcomings, Mr. Longbottom, do you know what I see? Neville shook his head. I see a man who does what is asked anyway. While the weight of that statement settled on Neville's shoulders, the Hat asked another question. Do you remember what you told me when you were eleven and I remarked upon your bravery in coming forward to be Sorted?

Neville thought for a moment, then shook his head. "I don't," he admitted.

You told me you were more afraid of your grandmother's reaction if you didn't come to be Sorted than you were of the Sorting itself.

A breath of laughter escaped him then, as the memory of the moment came rushing back, either from the recesses of his own brain or helped along by the Hat. He didn't know which. He'd been so scared, so panicked at the notion not of failing, but of letting down his family and House when he couldn't be what they needed. He'd been so scared, and Neville now just wanted to reach out to that boy, to hold him close as he had so many other terrified first years, and impart to him the greatest truth he had learned in his time at Hogwarts. There's nothing to live up to, he would tell those young, frightened children. The Hat isn't forcing you to match an impossible ideal. The Hat is only identifying what is already inside you, if you're willing to look for it. Courage, he would say if the young frightened child was a Gryffindor, doesn't always roar.

Sometimes it is the small voice at the end of the day saying "I will try again tomorrow," the Hat said, finishing the quote that had echoed through Neville's memories. It's a good line.

"It isn't mine," Neville said absently, surprised to find tears pricking his eyes.

You've made it yours, the Hat argued. And you embody it. So if your doubts prove true, if on some days you fall short, which you undoubtedly will - no one succeeds one hundred percent of the time, after all - what will you do, Headmaster?

The title woke something in Neville, and he stood a little straighter. "Try again tomorrow," he said, and he could have sworn the Hat smiled.

Try again tomorrow, it echoed. You do not embark on this endeavor alone, and you can only truly fail if you lose sight of that. Best of luck, Headmaster Longbottom. I eagerly await all that you have yet to become.

Neville searched for some response, some last word to have in this conversation, but before he could find it, there was a knock on the office door. He turned to see Terry, Ellie, Demelza, and Graham in the doorway.

"Harry sent us to make sure you were keeping your promise," Demelza said with a grin. "The party is about to officially start, you know."

Neville looked at them, and suddenly it hit him. Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin. He didn't know how he'd missed it before. They were all here. Find the balance, the Hat had said. Do not embark on this endeavor alone.

He looked at the clock on the wall. "We have five minutes still. Come in, would you? I have some questions to ask you four." They exchanged hesitant glances. "Come on," Neville said more emphatically. "You four are my Heads of Houses - congratulations, by the way, Demelza, on your promotion."

She groaned and threw her head to the ceiling. "How did I know you were going to do that to me? Yeah, okay, fine." She grinned at him. "So what do you need, Neville?"

"You four are my team," he said. "You have been for years, and I'm not about to give that up. So I want to know from all of you - what do you want to see happen this year? What needs to be done?"

The four exchanged another glance before Terry crossed the threshold and said, "Well, we're going to need a new Herbology professor."

"Edwin Rutherford."

"Perfect! Yes, he'd be brilliant!"

"He's on a horticultural expedition to South America for the next two years," Neville broke in. "And I'm not pulling a McGonagall." Terry grinned.

"Okay," Terry said, turning to Neville. "If you could hand pick anyone?"

"Edwin," Neville admitted. "But we can't have him for two years."

"Hire an interim?" Ellie suggested. The room exploded with sounds of agreement.

"Would Sprout do it?" Demelza asked. Neville laughed.

"Not even if her life depended on it," he said. "She's told me as much. Who else?"

Suggestions flew around the room almost faster than Neville could keep up with them.

"Get Luna to do it. She's going to be here anyway, with Rolf taking over the NEWT Magical Creatures class-"

"She's a zoologist, though, it's not the same-"

"It's close enough. She's studied both-"

"Enough for OWL-levels, maybe, but teaching for NEWTs? I don't know if she's got the knowledge-"

"So split the curriculum. We're doing it already with Rolf and Hagrid for COCM, it's how the Aurors run DADA every other rotation-"

"Yes! If Luna takes first through fifth-"

"We can absolutely bring someone else in for sixth and seventh!"

"Could you pull a McGonagall for that?" Terry asked Neville with a grin.

"If I have to," he said. And then the four were off again.

"Susan could do NEWTs for Herbology. She's a phenomenal teacher-"

"Yeah, look at Al and all her other Healer-hopefuls she's mentored-"

"That's Healing, though-"

"They're comparable. If we run a NEWT Herbology program on medicinal plants, it's only two years, if Edwin says yes-"

"She'd only be away from the infirmary what, five, maybe six hours a week-"

"Hell, her current Healer hopefuls can cover that! Or Graham could step in-"

"In the infirmary or the greenhouses. If you're talking medicinal plant usage, Potions is a comparable background, too-"

"And honestly, it might not be a bad idea to consider incorporating two teachers per subject-"

"Across the board?"

"Look, we have the evidence that it's beneficial, and with the way the population is swelling-"

"We have, what? Ninety incoming first years?"

"Closer to a hundred, and that's - help me-"

"300% increase from when we were in school? Nearly?"

"Twenty-five students per classroom, I wouldn't mind having someone to split the load with. Not necessarily OWL/NEWT splits in every subject-"

"How did Dumbledore split Divination with Trelawny and Firenze?"

The ideas and comments flew like rapid-fire spellwork around the room. They brainstormed together like a well-oiled machine - because of course, they were. Neville leaned back against the Headmaster's desk and listened, his confidence growing with each passing moment.

The conversation came to a halt only because a stag patronus came through the window and said, "I sent you four up to drag him down, not join him! If all five of you aren't on this lawn in two minutes, we're relocating the party."

Neville grinned and the others laughed. "We'll continue this later," he assured them. "I want to hear all of what you have to say."

They filed out, but Neville lingered in the doorway while the others descended the stairs, taking one last, long look at the Hat. "I have one last question," he said. He felt the Hat's expectant waiting. "Where would you Sort me now? If you had to?"

What do you think, Mr. Longbottom? the Hat asked. Neville thought about it carefully, remembering that young, frightened boy, remembering everything he had grown to accomplish in the house of the brave, remembering what the Hat had said to him the last time they had spoken.

"I think," he said slowly, "I think . . . it doesn't matter." He felt the Hat's silent approval wash over him, tinged with something very like pride.

Serve wisely and well, was all the Hat said.

"I'll try," Neville promised with a smile. Then he turned to follow his friends, repeating the words once more to the empty stairwell. "I'll try."

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