Schoolground Romance (Neville Longbottom)

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I won't lie, this one was really difficult for me to write. It felt like the prospect of writing this one made my writer's block want to come back but I've forced myself through it again.

That being said, I really don't like this one, and I'm kind of sorry to Neville (despite him being imaginary) for putting him through this ...

As per usual, this one is not edited 

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If anyone wondered what imposter syndrome looked like, they would only have to look at me because I had no idea what I was doing. This all had to be some mistake because there was absolutely no way that anyone with any rational sense had thought to make me responsible for underage wizards and witches, let alone as their Arithmancy Professor. How had anyone thought that I, a freshly turned 21 year old could teach anyone anything?

And yet, here I was, sitting at the Great Hall, at the teacher's table as the sorting progressed, silently experiencing my greatest bout of imposter's syndrome yet. I should have just saved myself the trouble of diving headfirst into the world of teacher, a world I knew nothing of and now I was already struggling to keep my head above the water. Already - and I'd yet to teach a single class.

Arithmancy I could do - I was really good at it, in my humble opinion. But teaching it was another matter altogether. If only I hadn't received that letter from Professor Vector personally requesting and entrusting the position to my lacking hands.

"Basilan," the call of my name was so quiet I almost missed it and yet, it surprised me enough that I physically started in my seat. Realising I'd been staring off into the distance as my brain a thousand miles a minute, I turned to my left, looking at the man seated beside me. He kept his voice quiet, easily undetected over the Sorting Hat's declarations. "I can practically see the steam coming out of your head."

For a minute, I didn't know what to say. So I said nothing. Instead, I looked at Longbottom with a million questions on my lips - we were the same age and yet, he had started teaching just a year before I had. At 20 of all ages. Merlin, Hogwarts was definitely trying to inject some youth into its teaching staff. Especially since Boot, who was seated just a few chairs down from us, had also officially joined the faculty last year alongside Longbottom.

"Basilan?" Longbottom prompted again; I'd gone off into my own world of overthinking again. No doubt, I very much looked like a deer caught in headlights.

"Sorry," I eventually managed, having enough sense to copy his posture - facing forward as if I was paying any attention to the sorting. Maybe I should have been paying attention to all the excited first years but I wasn't. Instead, I was baulking at the sheer number of students facing the professor's desk; how was I going to teach anyone? "I have absolutely no idea what I'm doing here. Is it too late for me to run away?"

"No, you can run if you want to." Surprised at his answer, I glanced at him in time to see the small smile he offered me. "But if you do, just prepare yourself for when McGonagall comes to hunt you down."

The reminder of the Headmistress had me straightening in my seat a little. The very last thing I needed was to get back into her bad books. I wasn't sure she'd completely forgiven me for some of the hijinks that went on in the Hufflepuff common room; it was hardly my fault that the rug in the basement was so flammable. Really, the professors should have done something about that sooner - especially if the Hufflepuff common room really did catch on fire as often as the rumours suggested.

"You're doing it again - looking like a deer in headlights."

Meeting Longbottom's waiting gaze, I almost wondered if he could hear my thoughts. But I dismissed the stupid thought and instead confessed, "I have no clue how to be a teacher. What if I do a horrible job? Or somehow end up emotionally scarring the students?"

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