Written for WeasleySeeker's Dialogue Prompt Competition on the Harry Potter Fanfiction Challenges forum.

Prompt #9 – "I didn't even recognise him at first."

Meaning behind title: The morning glory flower has various meanings in the language of flowers, one of them being the mortality of life. Morning glories are also very hardy plants, and will take root and grow wherever it can, which I thought was a nice metaphor for the strength and resilence of our beloved HP characters.

Hope you enjoy the story!

Minerva looked around the Leaky Cauldron, eyes scanning over the mingling patrons in the crowded pub as they sought out the person she had come to meet. She found Pomona seated at a small table in the corner, her long-time colleague waving vigorously to her to attract her attention. Smiling, she wove through the crowd to meet her, taking the seat opposite the Herbology Professor. There was one more chair set at the table, for the third person they were here to see.

Pomona smiled. "It's wonderful that you could make it, Minerva."

"Of course. You're saving me a bit of trouble with this, after all. Though there wouldn't be any trouble at all in the first place if you just carried on. I don't suppose I could convince you not to retire, Pomona?" she teased.

The Herbology Professor laughed, shaking her head. "I've had quite enough of teaching, I'm afraid. I love my students, but children can be quite exhausting even on their best days. I'd like to spend the rest of my years rather more quietly – putter about my own gardens, tending to the roses and Puffapods. Adopt some stray cats, perhaps."

Minerva looked wry. "I daresay I should be thinking of retirement soon myself. My hair's nearly all white now thanks to all those mischief-makers over the years."

Pomona chuckled, knowing that her friend loved the school too much to let it go until her dying breath. In that respect she was so very much like Albus, whose memory still brought a wistful pang to all of their hearts. She shook the nostalgia away, eyes fixing mischievously on her old colleague. "You, Minerva? Now that I cannot see happening. I'm quite sure you'll still be scolding the children and grandchildren of our students twenty years down the line from now."

"Merlin forbid!" Minerva parried with a laugh, but they both knew it would be true.

A deep, pleasant voice interjected into their conversation. "Good afternoon, Professors. May I get you anything to drink?"

It took Minerva longer than a moment to recognise the tall smiling man who had approached their table, dressed simply but neatly in an open-front black robe over Muggle-style shirt and slacks, but when she did her smile blossomed with genuine delight.

"My word! Mr Longbottom! I haven't seen you in years!"

Neville Longbottom, now a fine young man at twenty-seven years of age, smiled back with a hint of his old shyness.

"I'm glad to see you well, Professor McGonagall."

Last Minerva had heard, Neville had joined the Aurors alongside Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, proudly following the footsteps of his parents. The first few years following the Second Wizarding War had been a precarious time for the Wizarding world as a whole, and the Auror Office had needed as much manpower as they could get to round up the straggling Death Eaters and Voldemort supporters who had escaped capture at the Final Battle. Things had thankfully quietened down in the past year or so, however.

A sweet-faced witch came up beside Neville, turning to smile at Minerva and Pomona with twinkling eyes. "It's lovely to see you again, Professors."

Minerva returned the smile warmly, identifying the witch from her memories as a Hufflepuff from the same year as Neville. "Likewise, Miss Abbott."

"It's Hannah Longbottom now, but please just call me Hannah. I'll take your drink orders, Professors."

"Ah yes, I'll have a gillywater, thank you."

"Dragon Scale for me, please."

"Lovely. I'll be back in a moment with your drinks. Neville, you should really just sit down, love," Hannah threw over her shoulder as she bustled away towards the bar with bright laughter clear in her voice.

"Now, Neville, you heard your wife, stop fidgeting there and sit yourself down," Pomona instructed, looking equally amused.

The shy Gryffindor rubbed the back of his neck rather sheepishly as he finally took the empty third seat at the table, throwing a slightly nervous look at Minerva.

Minerva looked between the two, realization dawning and lighting up her face with delight. She shook her head, smiling. "When Pomona said that she'd contacted one of her top pupils to take over her position, I really should have known she was talking about you, Mr Longbottom. You've always been brilliant at Herbology."

The colour of Neville's face heightened with his smile, bashful at the praise in a way that reminded Minerva nostalgically of his student days. But there was confidence there now as well, a sign of his growth. "Thank you, Professor."

"Please, call me Minerva. Especially considering now that we'll be working together very soon."

Neville's smile widened, his eyes brightening further. "It's just Neville, then. 'Mr Longbottom' will always make me feel like I'm going to get a scolding."

Minerva chuckled. "Neville it is." She waved her wand, materialising a roll of parchment and a quill that immediately leapt up to start penning out the teaching staff contract. When it was done she tapped her wand against the parchment to leave her magical signature as Hogwarts Headmistress before pushing it across the table for Neville to read and do the same, sealing the contract.

"You're hired, Professor Longbottom."

Pomona shot an amused glance at her friend over her pint of Dragon Scale lager after Neville had left their table to go back to helping Hannah with the customers. "I see that you approve of my choice for the new Herbology Professor, Minerva."

"Of course I do, you could hardly have expected anything different." Minerva shook her head, tone filled with wonder. "I didn't even recognise him at first, that boy. He's grown so much." Her voice was soft, gentle in their remembrance. "His parents would be proud."

Pomona's eyes shone with equal warmth. "They would indeed."

A quiet nostalgia settled over the two of them, old-timers in a bright new world built by those children who had been forced to grow up too fast in the unforgiving darkness of war. They had watched over those children in the place of those who could not, those loved ones who had been stolen from life too soon.

Now light was finally dawning after decades of darkness, sweeping through the world on wings of hope and love and wonder.

And what a beautiful world it was.

"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if only one remembers to turn on the light." – Albus Dumbledore

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