Mcgonagall's Day

Minerva McGonagall looked over her square rimmed spectacles onto the weathered grounds of Britain's most historic wizarding school. Hogwarts had survived its fair share of beatings, but the Battle of Hogwarts had resulted in some of the most extensive damage since the school's opening. Mere hours after Harry Potter had at last conquered The Dark Lord, the four Heads of Houses met to discuss the future of the shattered school. A unanimous vote saw the quartet commit to reopening the school for the start of the next school year. They agreed that it would be difficult, but did not want to disadvantage those students with a desire for magical learning.

The months which followed presented a new challenge for the Hogwarts community, who were all dedicated to rebuilding the school brick by brick. It had certainly been a challenge for the staff at Hogwarts, but they were not alone in their aspiration for a reopening. Every day of the week, rain or shine, the Heads of Houses arrived at Hogwarts to start the slow reparation process. They were occasionally joined by fellow staff members, past and current students, and even locals from Hogsmeade, all who wanted to see the school back on its feet.

In no time at all, it was August 31st, one day before students were scheduled to arrive at the school. Headmistress Minerva breathed a sigh of relief as she returned to her desk chair, convinced that Hogwarts would be ready for its reopening. The vast grounds were now free of building rubble and decomposing giant heads, grass and vegetation covering the area once again. All classrooms were fully stocked and the kitchens were jam-packed with fresh produce. Weeks of hard work, both magic and manual, had restored the school to its former glory.

Taking out a long roll of parchment, Minerva unfurled it over her desk, revealing an extended 'to do' list. Elongated quill in hand, she moved her hand to the right of '#532 – Finish construction of new quidditch pitch', and ticked it off.

"We did it, Albus." Minerva exclaimed, smiling at the old headmaster's portrait.

"Is that so?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

Minerva rose from her desk quickly. "It is so, Albus. Look right here, the final task—com...pleted." Rising her glasses off her head, Minerva squinted at the bottom of the roll of parchment.

'#533- Find a replacement professor for Transfiguration.'

"Oh dear." Minerva remarked, and promptly flew into a state of panic.

If the fact that Minerva hadn't actually finished the list wasn't enough, the fact that she needed to hire a new Professor before tomorrow night was sending her over the edge. As Dumbledore chuckled to himself over Minerva's panic, the witch began rushing around the office, gathering various papers that had been sent to her. Letter after letter, she wrote to each of the applicants requesting them for an interview. After completing and addressing each of the letters, Minerva burst out of her office and to the owlery. Attracting the attention of as many owls as possible, Minerva gave each of the school owls a letter to deliver and proceeded to watch them fly, one by one, out of sight.

This was not how Minerva imagined she would be spending the day. She had convinced herself that the rebuilding of the quidditch pitch was the final task to be completed. Why did she forget the real final task? Hiring her own replacement was certainly a complicated issue she had to overcome. Everything had happened so quickly that it wasn't until Professor Sprout addressed her as Headmistress, did she realise that she actually was Headmistress now.

She was no longer needed to teach Transfiguration, nor was she the head of Gryffindor. This had saddened Minerva quite a bit, as she loved every part of her previous job. This was the task that Minerva always put off for another day. She just didn't want to see someone replace her. Unfortunately, now was the time for someone to take her place, as she took the top job.

In the rush, she barely had time to look at the names of the applicants who sent in their details and began stressing once more. She couldn't do this alone. If she was to hire someone who would replace her, she was going to need some help. Minerva stepped out of the owlery and began pacing down the stone steps to the ground floor. She knew the owls wouldn't take too long to deliver their letters and that the applicants would start arriving soon, so she began to pick up her pace. As she reached the castle, she saw Professor Sprout running up the corridor with a filled sack in her hand.

"Oh, Pomona, did you have a minute?" Minerva asked hopefully, before Professor Sprout could run her over.

"Minerva! Funny seeing you here..." Professor Sprout chortled nervously.

"Yes, funny." Minerva replied, eyeing the woman carefully. "Are you quite alright? I was just wondering if you could —"

"I am very sorry, Minerva, but I must be off. I was just heading to the dungeons to collect some wing of cat... I mean bat! Yes, wing of bat for a potion I was making. Good day to you, Minerva." Professor Sprout clumsily patted Minerva on the shoulder and ran, very irregularly, out of sight.

Perplexed by Professor Sprout's behaviour, Minerva continued into her office to wait for the applicants. "So, the applicants will arrive at my office. I shall be waiting at my desk." Minerva told herself properly. "They will enter and — gosh! They'll need the password! Alright, I will fetch a house elf from the kitchens, tell them the password. They shall let the applicant into the office where I shall be waiting at my desk. Yes, good!" Minerva's stress was certainly showing, though she tried to keep her dignity.

Ten minutes later, Minerva returned from the kitchens with the very house elf who had led a small (but effective) army of his kind to battle.

"Of course. Kreacher is happy to serve the historic school of Hogwarts." spoke the aged house elf.

"Good, good. Now you stand out here and bring the applicants up to me when they arrive. The password is 'toffee'."

"Of course, mistress." Kreacher gave Minerva a low bow and took his place next to the office entrance, as Minerva stepped inside.

Reaching her desk, Minerva sat down and began occupying herself with some paperwork. It wasn't much longer when the door to the office opened and Kreacher led the first applicant inside.

"Kreacher has returned with the evil woman."

"Kreacher, there is no need to be impolite." Minerva told the elf, eyes still on her paperwork. "I am sorry about —"

"Hem hem."

The horrid sound that Minerva hoped to never hear again pierced her ears. She hoped that if she kept doing her paperwork, that it would disappear.

"Hem hem."

She heard the retched noise again and pained herself to lift her head from the paperwork. Standing in front of her was a grotesquely dressed woman in pink who resembled a dying toad. Although Dolores Umbridge looked relatively the same, her face was more worn and her eyes more tired, than a few years ago.

"Kreacher knows the evil woman took Master Regulus' locket!" Kreacher shouted, taking a swipe at Umbridge.

"That's quite alright, Kreacher." Minerva told the elf, I will handle this. "Dolores, just what are you doing here?" Minerva asked angrily. Minerva was quite aware that after the war, upon being declared Minister of Magic, Kingsley had fired Umbridge, but she never expected her to come to Hogwarts begging for a job.

"I have come to apply for the position of Transfiguration professor." Umbridge said sweetly.

"No." Minerva said plainly.

"I'm sorry, I —"

"No." she repeated firmly, scowling ferociously.

"You don't understand! If I don't get another job, they'll send me to Azkaban!"

"Oh, that's awful."

"So, have I got the job?"

"No." Umbridge's face fell. "Take her out, Kreacher."

Kreacher dragged Umbridge out the room by the ankles and proceeded to bring in the next applicant. Following Kreacher looked like to be a very old man with a hunchback and a frail body. He had more wrinkles than anyone Minerva had ever seen, and his hair and beard were longer than even Dumbledore's.

"And you are?" asked Minerva.

"I am Lucard Daspoir." the old man said quietly as he took his seat. "And may I say, that is a lovely scarf you are wearing."

"Thankyou Mr Daspoir, but we really must continue." Minerva said, hiding a slight smile. "Do you have any qualifications?"

"What was that?" Daspoir asked, leaning into Minerva with his hand around his ear.

"Qual-if-ic-ations." She pronounced carefully.

"Why yes, I have been a professor for over 55 years at Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, I have studied all my life when it comes to..." The old man trailed off, falling asleep as he began to snore.

"Mr Daspoir?" Minerva asked the sleeping man. "Mr Daspoir?" She asked again, somewhat shouting.

The old man jumped in his chair. "... Transfiguration and, yes, well. That is a lovely scarf you're wearing." He repeated.

"I think we're done here." Minerva told Kreacher. "Thank you, Mr Daspoir." Minerva yelled at the man, as Kreacher pushed him outside.

"Kreacher, please fetch me the next applicant. Let us pray that they will be suitable." Minerva told the elf as he retrieved the next hopeful from outside.

"Get out." Minerva spat, upon looking at the applicant.

"What seems to be the problem?" asked Umbridge, who was now wearing a fake moustache.

"This is getting ridiculous." Minerva announced as she rose from her seat. "Dolores, I don't give a baboon's bottom if you get sent to Azkaban or not. You're getting what you deserve from a lifetime of wickedness. Good day." And with that, Minerva pushed the woman outside herself and slammed the door behind her.

Just as Minerva reached her desk chair again, there was a knock at the door. "Let them in, Kreacher." Minerva heaved.

"Minerva, do you have a minute?" squeaked Professor Flitwick, whose eyes barely saw over her desk.

"Oh, it's you, Filius." Minerva started, looking over at Kreacher. "Are there anymore applicants outside?"

"Just one more." Kreacher replied.

Minerva sighed. "Yes, well, I guess I can help you for a moment. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, excellent! I was hoping I could dip into Dumbledore's old stash of chewing gum. I, uh, have always wanted to try some."

"Oh, of course." Minerva said, quite perplexed. "He kept it in that top drawer right over there, that's right."

Flitwick had found the drawer and took a single packet out of the box.

"You can take more if you like. I've never really cared for chewing gum."

"Oh, no. One is quite enough! Thankyou Minerva." Flitwick piped, bouncing out of the office.

"Right." Minerva said, composing herself. "Send in the last applicant."

For the final time, Kreacher left the room and returned with yet another applicant.

The witch's hair was jet black and straight. She wore a black witch's hat, her robes, tattered and grey. But what was more noticeable was her face; it gave off a sickly green glow, almost like a stereotypical Muggle witch, warts covering her face.

"My name is Dulcina Binns." she announced, before Minerva could get a word in. "Yes, before you ask, I have a distant ancestor who already works at this school, Cuthbert, I believe his name is. I hear he is known for his long-winded speeches which rarely go anywhere but as you can see that is not the case when it comes to me." Minerva let out a burst of laughter, which went unnoticed by Binns. "Although my qualifications and previous job experience is more than enough evidence to prove that I would be a capable Transfiguration professor, I have outlined 10 reasons why you should hire me. 1-"

As Binns droned on about why she should be given the job, Minerva looked more closely at the woman. She seemed firm, strict—the students will hate her, she thought. Minerva could not help thinking that her replacement would be more liked than she would, so she came to a decision. "I'm going to stop you right there, Dulcina. I have taken into consideration the points you have given me and have decided to give you the job."

"I thought so." Dulcina remarked.

Minerva let out a devious smile. "Very well, your quarters are located on the ground floor adjacent to the transfiguration classroom. I wish you —"

Boom!

The force of the explosion threw the occupants of the office to the floor, as Hogwarts shook from the impact.