The job of a Headmistress was, apparently, never complete. In the past week or so that she had been Headmistress, she had already met with various wizarding officials, including members of the Minsitry of Magic, as well as three Headmasters of the visiting schools. She had hired a new Muggle Studies professor and had been caught up on all things Hogwarts by the amazing staff with a staff meeting. She had gotten pretty far with the planning of an extravagant ball and had dealt with various disciplinary matters, and to top it all off, she had no caretaker. The result was a rubbish-strewn school with leaky pipes and extremely drafty corridors. Obviously that wasn’t the vibe she wanted the visiting schools to feel when they were staying within the castle.

She had tried very hard to find a suitable replacement for their previous caretaker, but time was of the essence. She had placed an ad in both the Daily Prophet as well as Witch Weekly and had only received one résumé in reply. Instead of waiting, as she desperately wanted to, she decided to call upon Mr. Felinus Woodward for an interview. She vaguely recognized the name from his days at Hogwarts. If memory served Minerva correctly he had been a very talented transfigurationist, though had more than his fair share of arrogance and he was more than a bit prideful.

She looked briefly over his papers, and had even taken the time to pull his old Hogwarts file. Minerva wanted to be sure she had the most information available to use during this meeting. She had thoughtfully had the Hogwarts elves bring up a tray of sweets, as well as a steaming pot of fresh tea. She sat behind the large desk, hoping desperately that the gargoyle guarding the office didn’t present the man a problem, she had informed him that a man would be arriving shortly, after all.

A lion sat outside the Headmaster's office with an oversized push broom strapped onto his back.

That sounded like the start of a surrealist joke, but it was stark reality for one Felinus Woodward, the lion in question. He'd arrived care of a St. Mungo's house elf at a punctual ten minutes before time for his meeting with Professor McGonagall. It wouldn't do to be late, even if he had spent most of the time crouched behind a garden wall so he wouldn't startle students on their way to class. Still, he'd made it with enough time to spare. But though he'd been sitting there for quite a while now, the door refused to open.

Felinus cleared his throat. "Hello?" he said, though speaking to the gargoyle made him feel somewhat foolish. "I am Felinus Woodward. I'm here for my interview with Professor McGonagall. Might I come in?"

The gargoyle did not move, but Felinus got the distinct feeling that it was staring at him in disbelief. With the face of a lion he did not have the muscles to frown, but his human spirit did so with every bit of disgust it could muster. "I trust that she informed you of my arrival? Yes, I'm sure she did.  I should not like to make her wait. So if you would kindly allow me to enter..."

Still, the statue remained still as just that. Felinus growled. The deep rumbling did not echo so much as hover in the air. Punctuality was a must. He would not be barred by a piece of stone. He rose from his seat into a crouch, flexing his front paws so the claws clicked against the floor. He set his stance, inhaled a massive lungful of air, and roared.

"MOVE!"

The roar echoed all the way up the hidden stairwell that lead to the head's office. Its gargoyle guardian leaped aside, almost tripping over itself in the haste to get out of the way. Satisfied, Felinus shifted his broad shoulder to settle the broom more comfortably and padded up the spiral stairs.

”D’ya hear dat, Min’rva?”

The sound of the portrait roused the Headmistress from her semi-meditative state. “What’s that?” She asked the ancient Headmaster, glancing up from Woodward’s file to look at the speaking portrait.

”Dat sound. I tink summat’s at the foot a da stairs.”

Minerva suppressed her annoyance with the old bat. Surely, with an ear trumpet plastered to the side of the painting’s face he couldn’t hear anything accurately from outside their office. “It’s probably just Mr. Woodward, coming in for his interview. No need for alarm, Foghorn.” The elderly witch took the spectacles from her face and gently rubbed her eyes.

It wasn’t long before a smug look crossed the dead headmaster’s face as the floor shook with the sound of a large roar. Minerva was on her feet immediately and had crossed the room with the elegance and grace of a much younger witch. Her wand was drawn with a spell upon her lips as she threw open the large wooden door and gained a dueling stance.

Standing regally upon the threshold was… a lion? Minerva wasn’t sure if she should attack or run screaming from the room. Then again, she was the Minerva McGonagall and no oversized kitty was going to intimidate her. So without turning her back, she started to inch slowly away from the terror, wand aimed right for the creature’s face.

Well…this was unfortunate. At the top of the stairs, Felinus found himself looking down the business end of a wand. Said wand belonged to the Headmistress herself, Minerva McGonagall. Goodness, but she was an impressive sight. She must have been pushing, what, seventy, seventy-five years at this point? And yet she stood as proud and strong as she had before his first Transfiguration class nearly three decades ago.

Not wanting a nasty hex to end the interview before it began, Felinus did not approach her further. Instead he looked her straight in the eye so it could not be mistaken where the voice was coming from and said, “Ah. Good afternoon, Professor McGonagall. Such a pleasure to see you again.”

He curled one of his front paws against his chest and lowered his head into a makeshift bow, his muzzle nearly brushing the floor. “Did I startle you? I do apologize if that is the case. The blasted gargoyle would not move. If I’d not scared it out of the way, I’d have been unacceptably late for our appointment.”

He straightened, shaking out his mane and readjusting the way the broom rested against his shoulders. The wand was still pointed at him. Felinus cleared his throat. “I apologize for my current appearance. It’s been rather rough six years or so. But please, don’t pay it any mind, I assure you that I continue maintain all of my human faculties. Might I come in?”

As the lion started talking, Minerva shook her head slightly, wondering if she was finally losing her marbles. Voices all along the walls started to fill the office, everything from screams of terror to catcalls to chants of “Hex him! Hex him!”, but Minerva ignored them all. Her eyes roamed across the lion’s body, taking in any abnormalities that might show that the beast was a transfigured specimen. There was little to go on, other than his darkened mane, there was no signs that he was anything other than a large prairie cat.

The voice though… The voice reminded her greatly of the young boy that had been her pupil over thirty years ago. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make her lower her wand, though not enough to make her put it away. She moved a bit more slowly toward the desk, trying to put a barrier between herself and the man. Once she was situated, she answered him.

“Of course, do come in. Might I offer you anything? Tea, coffee, the hindquarters of a wildebeest?” She asked, trying to keep her voice at its normal tones. She waved her wand toward the chairs in front of her desk and watched as they slid to the opposite wall, leaving a large plot of empty space in front of the desk. She contemplated summoning a large cushion, but decided against it, she’d rather this meeting not last too long.

Felinus padded into the Headmistress's office with his head held high in spite of the portraits' general mayhem. One old witch with a crooked nose let out a shriek as he passed and darted into the frame of her neighbor. Another, some ancient headmaster, thumped the arm rests of his chair. Felinus ignored them, but flexed his paws against the stone, his claws itching to rip a canvass to shreds.

Minerva's...joke, he supposed it must have been...went over like a lead balloon. As he settled in the cleared place, sitting regally with his head held high, Felinus sighed. "Madame, I've no more interest in wildebeest than you do in mice. But a bit of water would be lovely, if you've a bowl."

He waited patiently for the headmistress to settle to her liking, aware that she did not put away her wand. Once she seemed settled he spoke again, softer than before. "It is nice to see the castle again. I've missed this place as much as any other, these last few years. It's always been such a welcome home, for those who have none. Wouldn't you agree?"

The Headmistress finally tore her gaze from the lion’s imposing frame to glare at the assaulting frames. Her lips tightened into a thin line of frustration and those portraits causing mayhem seemed to decrease their volume drastically. Minerva had been in the office for such a long time; even the paintings on the wall seemed to know how to interpret her reactions.

Returning her stare to the poor chap she gave the man a wry smile, and waved her still clenched wand in the air before placing it gently on the desk. In the blink of an eye, a large ceramic bowl appeared on the ground before the lion’s feet. It slowly filled itself with cool, clear water, and anyone drinking from the bowl would find that it replenished itself automatically. “I meant no offense, Mr. Woodward.” She looked down her spectacles to meet the man in his furry face, “I was simply curious as to whether you had a transfiguratory mishap or if it went deeper than that. I’d suppose your ailment is the result of an unsuccessful animagus transformation?”

Minerva took the quill from the inkwell on the desk and scribbled a quick note on a blank piece of parchment. “I quite agree, Hogwarts has that way about it. Perhaps it’s the bond we create that’s stronger than any form of magic we teach here. I’ve found that no matter where you go or how long you’ve been away, Hogwarts always seems to hold a special place in your heart.” Minerva’s smile turned genuine and a twinkle filled her eyes. Anyone who knew anything about Minerva McGonagall knew that she truly loved and cared about her beloved castle.

“Let’s get this interview started, shall we?” She asked, glancing to the man’s file sitting before her. “What do you think you can bring to Hogwarts that another can’t? Other than your imposing frame, that is,”

When the bowl appeared, Felinus regally lowered his head to its edge and drank with long, slow laps to prevent splashing. The cool water refreshed and calmed him. As he straightened, he made a satisfied noise, not quite a purr but close enough to be clear.

"I am afraid so," he said in response to the Headmistress's first query. "Though I was a registered and successful animagus for nearly a decade before...this...happened." He paused a moment to collect his thoughts and let the fact that he was not a complete failure settle in McGonagall's mind. True, his current situation was regrettable, but it was not due to incompetence. It was simply bad luck.

"I attempted to develop a technique that would allow animagi to speak while transformed. As you can hear, I was successful in that endeavor. However, I found myself unable to return to human form. I've been in Saint Mungo's ever since. Six years with no progress. I've come to accept that the Healers can do nothing. So long as I am so fortunate as to be capable of communication, it seems best to seek employment elsewhere."

The warm rumbling in his chest continued as Minerva reflected on the sentimental wonder of Hogwarts. Such a lovely place, its doors always open, its bonds so strong. If Felinus was to be set out in the world in this state, Hogwarts was his first and only choice for a second home.

The interview began.

"I possess extensive knowledge of Hogwarts Castle, its inner workings, and its disciplinary system. You may recall that I was Head Boy my seventh year. On my rounds as prefect I found it most helpful to work with Mr. Flich, who showed me many of the castle's passageways -- you remember, I'm sure, how excellent he was at traversing them. While no one can know all of her secrets, I should think my experience with them is more significant than average. I could draw you a map even now, if I could hold a quill.

"I dare say that I am also most...observant..." Felinus trailed off, his eyes falling on the seam where stone floor met stone wall. There was a crack lurking there, wide but not too tall, in the space between two stones where the mortar wore away. A mouse hole. Slowly, so as not to startle the Headmistress, Felinus made his way over to it, leaned down, and sniffed.

"There are few mice in the castle this year," he said, his not-purr dying to a thoughtful rumble. "How odd. Normally, they would gather en masse to shelter from the frost, with only the students' pets to keep them in line. But in my journey up here, there was no sign of mice, nor of the little ones' hunts. It is most peculiar."

He padded back to his place before the desk and his bowl of water, sitting as straight-backed as a Slytherin aristocrat seeking to impress a visiting queen. "My apologies. Please, do continue."

Minerva looked thoughtfully at the lion. It appeared to her that he had allowed the animalistic nature of his altered state to take over somewhat in the span of time that he’d been transfigured. She knew well the allure of letting the feline nature take over, a feeling she’d struggled with her entire adult life. There was still so much they didn’t know about animagus magic, and Minerva, who was an expert in the field, was still woefully ignorant about quite a bit, she took on the outlook that things would be revealed in their own time.

"How odd. Normally, they would gather en masse to shelter from the frost, with only the students' pets to keep them in line. But in my journey up here, there was no sign of mice, nor of the little ones' hunts. It is most peculiar."

Minerva let a small smile cover her features, “Perhaps they’ve realized that the cat is back?” She said, obviously indicating her return to the castle. “Mr. Woodward, other than your vast knowledge of the castle, how could you possibly perform the duties of caretaker without the use of opposable thumbs?” She didn’t mean to sound snarky, not in the slightest bit, but it was difficult to know how things were going to work. She liked the beast before her, but she needed to be practical.

"Hm...Perhaps." Felinus's muzzle twitched in the barest ghost of a smile. It was a side-effect of the modifications he'd made to allow human speech, one that his attendants at St. Mungo's had more than once described as somewhat unnerving, given that lions were not meant to grin.

The next question was one he'd specifically prepared for, and Felinus allowed himself a brief moment of preening self-congratulations for being clever enough to do so. "Ingenuity, Headmistress, is my greatest asset. I've already begun putting together a number of plans to cover every adverse possibility within the castle walls. For example..."

He leaned down, biting the rope he wore in two so the modified push-broom he carried could drop to the floor. In a former life, it had simply been the head of a broom, but with the help of a St. Mungo's house elf Felinus had been able to remove the handle and Engorge the remaining head to a size suitable to a creature of his size. This he demonstrated for the Headmistress, bracing the wood with his front paws and pushing with his hindquarters to steer it along the floor. While a normal broom might cover a quarter of a standard Hogwarts corridor at any time, this one could manage half, making up for the time he might have lost to a lack of dexterity.

"As I said, this is only one of the possibilities that I've developed so far. Whatever trails come in the position of Caretaker, I'm confident I can devise suitable solutions. As for those few tasks for which opposable thumbs are absolutely required, well." He shrugged his broad shoulders. "That's what House Elves are for. They're excellent workers and, while they don't have the knowledge to take care of such things alone, their propensity for exact orders means that, with the proper guidance and supervision, they might provide a, er...'helping hand', as it were."

Minerva watched as the lion started sweeping her floor, and felt a slight bit of embarrassment when she realized that he was actually accumulating a bit of dust, despite the floor having been mopped the night before. A crude device, to be sure, but equally effective. He could manage the sweeping of the halls, and surely with a lion within the castle – even a lion that was truly a man – the amount of unauthorized magic usage would be decreased dramatically. Yes – he’d be great for discipline and no one knew better than Minerva the stealth of feline creatures, so that was another advantage.

On the other hand, Minerva assumed that he’d be a bit of a scare for some of the younger years (not to mention the older, more spineless students). He wouldn’t be capable of keeping up with student records, that’d need to go to another member of staff. Then there was the question of the loyalty of the elves. Would they respect Felinus as their master, him being in the guise of an animal?

She supposed they’d just have to find out…

With a sigh of contentment, Minerva opened her mouth to speak, “Mr. Woodward, I’d like to offer you the position of caretaker. You may move in immediately, and meals are served three times daily within the great hall. I’m sure you can find the times for yourself, yes?” She paused, taking up her quill again, to write down some quick notes. “I’ll send forth an official notice with salary information as well as benefits and other offers. I’ll need a signature from our board of directors before we can make this official, but feel free to set up house whenever you feel comfortable.”

“The caretaker’s quarters are on the first floor, and I’ll send a house elf to set up things to your liking at your convenience,” She realized that the interview time was rather short, but the post of caretaker wasn’t one of rocket science. She just needed to make sure that he could clean the floors and wouldn’t off any of the students, and she was confident in both aspects. She rose from her chair, unsure of what to do next. She couldn’t offer him a hand to shake…

“Do you have any questions for me?” She asked, almost as an afterthought.