Severus could think of no one in particular he had been particularly enthusiastic to hire, but there were certain professors he found it especially difficult to replace. Anyone attempting to fill the shoes that had once been Minerva's should have been in for a very rough ride, indeed - but the fact was that there would have to be Transfiguration, one way or another, and the line of less than stellar candidates that had come after his one-time colleague had lowered the bar for him somewhat. It made placing yet another Gryffindor in the core faculty a little less painful than it might have been, the prospect of entrusting the academic reputation of this ancient institution to the hands of people he could still remember stuttering out wrong answers in class slightly more tolerable.
And this one was qualified, he had grudgingly admitted to himself, and came recommended. He'd been trained by the best. There was little reason not to hire him; Severus' own personal belief that most people who went gallivanting around in animal form were great arrogant gits was not quite sufficient to knock him off the top of the stack.
And so he had summoned Finnigan, resigned to making him the offer. As he waited, flipping methodically through class schedules, he tried to count the number of professors he had actually liked over the course of his career. There was only so much one could hope for.