This was written for the 'Challenge Your Versatility' Event on the Diagon Alley II forum.
It was written to the prompt: Pre-Marauders Sci-Fi story. Therefore I wrote about Minerva McGonagall's Hogwarts years, as she attended Hogwarts in the late 40's and early 50's. This story is set in February 1949.
I couldn't find much out about McGonagall's time at Hogwarts, especially not in her Second Year (which is the year I'm writing about) so I made her much like Hermione Granger, just a little bit more disorganised and a little less stingy about rule breaking.
I haven't written for either the Sci-Fi genre (although I am a massive Star Wars and Doctor Who fan) or Minerva McGonagall before, so I hope I did okay!
I'm a little dubious about this story honestly, I didn't go into too much detail with the whole outer space thing, but it reads a lot like a Doctor Who novelisation in my opinion, which I guess is good...? I also left a lot to people's interpretation, which I think is the best part of Science Fiction. Not everything has to be tied up. There are always mysteries.
Anyway, I'll stop my spiel and leave you with this story. It's longer than any oneshot I have ever written before, so please read, review, leave some constructive criticism (because I need it) and enjoy!
Hidden In The Forest
So far, Minerva's thirteenth year of living hadn't been much to look at. Thirteen wasn't an interesting age. Many people thought it to be the first teenage year, but Minerva always seemed to be a little younger than she was, with her round glasses, curly hair and pudgy cheeks. To a passer by, she couldn't have been more than eleven.
The year started off simply, with a slightly squashed birthday cake from her mother; accompanied by her first sip of Firewhiskey, smuggled in by her good friend and partner in crime Anthony Appleby.
Then it declined into simple days, endlessly repeating Mondays and Tuesdays. Charms then Transfiguration then Potions. Breaks for pumpkin juice and sandwiches, then again for roast dinner and chocolate pudding.
This monotonous pattern continued, until a sunny morning in late February, exactly four months and six days after Minerva's birthday. Nothing much of note had happened so far, except for the fact that the normally punctual Gryffindor had woken up almost disastrously late.
"Minnie!" Anthony called, from the other side of the Common Room, pushing his way through the crowds of upper year students with boney twelve year old elbows. Minerva barely heard him, straightening her cloak hurriedly, glancing at the watch on her wrist with panicked eyes.
"Not now!" she said, as Anthony's knee impatiently prodded her in the thigh. Ah, the indignities of having a twelve year old be several inches taller than you. "Of all days, not now!"
"Geez, Minnie, what's got into your knickers?" Anthony blinked in confusion. "It's not that late, you have enough time to grab bre-"
"No I don't!" Minerva snapped. "I needed to visit the library again this morning, now that Professor Dumbledore decided to shove that extra essay on us last moment!"
Anthony sighed, and grabbed his best friend's arm, towing her away from the crowd, and towards the portrait hole. "Just copy mine," he said, as always, a common repeated mantra after the past one and a half years.
"Where would I be without you?" Minerva exhaled, pushing her glasses back up her nose, pushing a few strands of curly hair away from her face. "You saved my life, Tony."
"For the Transfiguration prodigy, you are really, really crap at organising your life," Anthony laughed, towing her down the staircase, pausing only when his shorter companion began to trip. "You're getting shorter!"
Minerva glared, the effect somewhat lost by the combined attributes of her baby face and thick round glasses. "I don't believe I asked your opinion," she sighed, leaning over and tugging her wrist away from the other. She perched on the edge of a step, quickly tying up her laces, before looking up again. "And for heaven's sake, I am hardly taking my time over this."
"But you'll make us late for Potions!" he complained, bouncing on the heels of his feet, impatiently waiting for his friend to just hurry up and get moving again. "Come on Minnie! We've got five minutes!"
"Five?" Minerva squawked, jumping to her feet. "You said we weren't that late!"
She raced on past him, desperately dragging Anthony along behind her as she navigated the endless corridors of hallways and doorways, never quite knowing where to look on her seemingly endless mission to arrive to her lesson in time. Why hadn't she set her alarm? Laziness always ended in disaster, just like when she got wrapped up in a novel and forgot to leave time for her homework.
And now she was facing lateness. Something she had been sure would never happen. She might not have been organised, but she was a courageous Gryffindor, and she was brave enough to keep up her stellar record for the entirety of her time at Hogwarts.
Minerva didn't hear Anthony's protests that they were going much too fast, looking left and finally finding the Grand Staircase, throwing herself down it in a last ditch effort to catch the throng leaving the Hall.
"...watch where you're going," a strange, deep voice mumbled, and Minerva jumped out of her skin, abruptly stopping and sending Anthony careering into her back.
The small girl's eyes were fixated on the person's stomach, clothed in black. So was he (it had to be a he, with that register of voice) a student? Hopefully. A student would surely see that Minerva just couldn't be late, and wouldn't be too harsh on someone that cared about their track record.
"You shouldn't be running around like that," the boy continued, blissfully smoothly, his words rushing over her like a warm blanket. "You could hurt someone."
"Forgive me," Minerva said quickly, taking a deep breath. "But we need to get to Potions. We might be late."
"And what a shame that would be," the words stung like ice this time, throwing themselves at Minerva, attaching themselves to her skin. Her muscles tensed, goosebumps rising over her arms and legs. Something within her said to turn and run, forget her stellar record and get the heck out of there.
It would be the only time that Minerva regretted being born with so much bravery.
"Why don't you look at my face?" the boy asked, voice comforting and heady again, brushing the goosebumps away with a disinterested sweep. "It's rude to have a conversation in this way."
"Uh..." Minerva squared her shoulders, gathering all of her Gryffindor courage, before quickly swivelling her eyes upwards to look the boy in the eyes.
Except it wasn't a boy. Not a boy she knew could exist.
Minerva flinched, reeling backwards, grabbing Anthony's hand again, gripped with a sudden wave of panic. She stared at the man's face, trying to process what was there - or rather, what wasn't.
What should have been eyes were black empty sockets, grey fog swirling out from within them and wrapping Minerva and Anthony in tendril, stroking down their faces and slipping up their noses. Squeezing their brains with unearthly fingers. It's nose was a crow's beak, blunt and deadly, ripe to crack their skulls open.
It didn't have a mouth. What was it speaking from, if all it had was a protruding jaw, seemingly glued in place? Minerva squeaked, feeling Anthony's palm grow cold in hers.
Couldn't anyone else see this... Thing? Minerva looked around helplessly, swallowing, eyes flickering to the last stragglers from the Great Hall. They weren't even paying attention to the pair, let alone the monstrous being.
"This can't be real," Anthony muttered, staring straight ahead. "Minnie- I'm sorry-"
Minerva looked back at the spot where the thing had been, eyes widening when she saw nothing, just empty space, air and dust. Had it been a trick of the light? A waking nightmare? How could a being that horrible be a figment of her imagination?
"I-" Minerva turned to look at Anthony, suddenly insistent to find out whether he'd seen it too. Because if he'd seen it, it couldn't be her imagination. She couldn't be going insane. There had to be a logical explanation. And Anthony could give it to her. She was sure of it.
But he wasn't there.
The only thing Minerva could do was go to Professor Dumbledore. He would give her an explanation. He would tell her where Anthony was. Because it was Magic. It couldn't be anything else, not in Hogwarts.
Professor Dumbledore's office was on the third floor, just next to the Transfiguration rooms. He had a free lesson every Tuesday morning, so if Minerva skipped Potions-
She paused. Was Anthony worth risking her perfect record? What was she even suggesting, of course he was. Minerva picked up the pace again, ignoring the curious glances of everyone she passed by.
If only they knew.
Minerva was breathing heavily by the time she reached the Third Floor, bending over and resting her palms on her knees, trying to get her breath back. It felt like her heart was going to fall out of her mouth and onto the floor. Her skin crawled with ideas of what could have happened to bring the creature to life. Professor Kettleburn most likely - the accident prone Care of Magical Creatures teacher could easily have produced a terrifying hybrid.
But that didn't account for why it could talk, or for why it was roaming the Halls. Or for why it disappeared so suddenly, taking Anthony with it.
A prank? No... Anthony was far too sensible. Pranks were off the table. No one would be that cruel.
Her breath back, Minerva stood up straight again, pushing her spectacles back up her nose. She studied the inscriptions on each door in turn, pausing outside each before moving on.
The eighth along bore the writing 'Albus Dumbledore'. Minerva paused, swallowing, licking her lips slowly. She checked behind her, bringing her fist up to knock twice, dropping her eyes back to the floor.
"Come in!" the familiar, cheery voice called. She exhaled, twisting the doorknob with one hand and pushing slightly, letting the door creak open.
Professor Dumbledore was sitting at his writing desk, a long feathery quill in one hand, poring over a sheet of mostly blank parchment. Minerva closed the door behind her, listening for a click that meant it was shut. "Professor-" she began, swallowing again when he turned, sharply, to look at her.
"Miss McGonagall?" he asked, looking her straight in the eyes. "Shouldn't you be in Potions at this time?"
"Professor Slughorn let me leave," she bluffed quickly, making sure to keep her eyes locked on Professor Dumbledore's. The lie had to be convincing. "I really need to talk to you, Professor."
"But of course," Professor Dumbledore smiled instantly, standing up and gesturing to one of the plush, red armchairs. "Anytime, Miss McGonagall. Tea? Ginger newt?"
"Uhm... No, I'm alright thank you Professor," Minerva answered, sitting in the chair that was offered to her, settling her small hands in her lap.
Her eyes followed the Transfiguration teacher as he moved around, pulling a teapot out of a cupboard, along with a matching paisley teacup. Dumbledore flicked his wand, boiling water pouring out of it and into the pot. He waved it in a few concentric circles, presumably turning the water the dark, inviting brown colour that was so well known.
"Don't wait on my account, Miss McGonagall," Dumbedore suddenly spoke up, breaking Minerva out of her stupor. "What did you wish to talk to me about?"
"There was-" Minerva steadied her hands, putting any theories out of her mind. It would do her no good to be distracted. "I was in the Great Hall, and I walked into... Something. At first I thought it was a person, because it was talking and had a chest, but-"
"But what, Miss McGonagall?" Professor Dumbledore slowly sat down opposite her, cradling his cup in two hands. He seemed to be sincere, no hint of disbelief in his voice. So Minerva continued, pacified somewhat.
"But-" she swallowed again, pushing her hair off her face again. "But it wasn't a man. It had a beak, and it didn't have eyes or a mouth, and it just... Disappeared."
Professor Dumbledore fell silent, regarding Minerva with blue eyes behind half moon spectacles. Minerva slipped her hands under her, sitting on them in a last ditch attempt to stop them trembling. She looked back, searching the man's face for any trace of confusion, or the bad kind of worry - the worry she didn't want.
"Miss McGonagall," he spoke, after what seemed like hours. "Are you quite well?"
Minerva's heart sank. He didn't believe her. Not even Professor Dumbledore, an eccentric to the last, believed her.
"I am!" she insisted, sitting up a little straighter in her seat. "You have to believe me Professor! It was real, and it took Anthony!"
"There are currently no Anthony's in this school," Professor Dumbledore said regretfully, setting his teacup down onto a saucer, leaning across and laying the back of his hand against Minerva's forehead. "Miss McGonagall-"
"There are!" she retorted, glaring. Was everyone but her in on this prank? "Anthony Appleby, he's a second year Gryffindor, like me! And he is definitely real - he has an older sister, Charlotte in Hufflepuff-"
"Charlotte Appleby?" Professor Dumbledore asked carefully. "If it would make you feel better, I could call her up and ask her to confirm what I am saying. Would that help?"
"Yes," Minerva replied confidently, nodding along to confirm her statement. Charlotte adored her little brother. She would tell Dumbledore that he was wrong. Then Anthony would be found, and this stupid, stupid prank could finally stop.
It took fifteen minutes for Charlotte to appear, standing in the doorway, staring at Professor Dumbledore like he was insane. "I'm an only child," she said, blinking in confusion. "I don't have any siblings, let alone a brother called Anthony."
Minerva's fists clenched. She had to be lying. Charlotte would never say anything like that. It couldn't be true, Minerva wouldn't let it be true. Anthony was her closest friend. She needed him.
And even if everyone else was going to be stubborn, Minerva was going to make sure he was found.
She never went to Potions, perfect record forgotten. Minerva looked back to the morning and wondered whether it was a different time altogether. A different world. An opposite dimension. So much had happened in the past few short hours that she could barely wrap her mind over the confusion patchwork that seemed to currently be her life.
It wasn't even logical. For the first time in her life she couldn't give something a nice neat explanation, wrapped up with a bow and decorated with paper flowers. Nothing was remotely normal, or as normal as the Wizarding World could be.
But she had to find Anthony. Nobody else was going to do it, not now that she seemed to be the only person that actually remembered him. it couldn't be a prank, not with the normally sensible Charlotte playing along with it. So it was some ethereal kind of Magic. It had to be. Something had gone wrong in Potions that morning, when she wasn't there, which had caused her to hallucinate and - somehow - mean that everyone had forgotten Anthony Appleby.
When weird things happened at Hogwarts, everything lead back to the Forbidden Forest. When Professor Kettleburn's Flobberworms had grown to three times their usual size, it had been down to the unusual weeds growing on the forest floor. So, whatever had happened to Anthony had to have a connection to the Forest in some way.
Which is why Minerva was staring down Rosie O'Donnel, a Ravenclaw who always seemed to be making sure that all the 'little ones' never got into too much trouble. This unfortunately included the Forbidden Forest.
"You can't go in there!"
"I can if I want to," Minerva glared, placing her hands on her hips, staring down a girl that was easily twice, if not three times her height. "And no one - especially not you - is going to stop me."
The other took a step forward, eyes blazing. "Stop being stubborn, Minerva!" she crossed her arms over her chest, shifting her shoulder up to stop the steady fall of her cloak.
"I can do whatever I want Rosie, as you well know," Minerva turned away from the seventh year, looking into the mass of trees that was the Forbidden Forest. If the thing was anywhere, it had to be in there. No other place could have given birth to the monster.
"Okay, lets think reasonably," Rosie grabbed Minerva's arm, keeping her from moving away. "What is it that you're going in there for? If it's that important I'm sure Kettleburn will help-"
"He won't," Minerva said confidently, turning around again, craning her head to look Rosie in the eyes. "I'm looking for Anthony Appleby."
"There's no one in this school called that!" Rosie snapped, rolling her eyes. "You're being ridiculous! I won't let you do this!"
Minerva stared back for a while, before she wrenched her arm away, shaking her head. "I have to go," she said, a little quieter. "I'm the only one that remembers him. No one else does - so I have to!"
"This... This is insane!" Rosie pressed, eyes wide as she realised that her words were falling on deaf ears. "Minerva- no!"
Minerva just shook her head, taking the first few steps into the Forest, shivering as the trees began to block out the winter sun, plunging her into desolate blackness. Rosie's voice grew fainter and fainter as she trudged on, even as the older girl began to yell.
She sped up, walking faster as the darkness grew more and more intrusive. The trees closed in on her, blanches interlocking over her head, tree roots cropping up from the soil as Minerva's jog became a frantic run, desperately racing towards the place that she believed would hold the key to this insane day. It wasn't even lunch, and already this Tuesday was becoming more like a fantasy novel than actual physical life.
The next thing Minerva knew, she was on her back, looking up at a ceiling that was all-too familiar. She squinted, wincing as she tried to sit up. All her muscles were complaining, it felt like her spine was on fire. And her mind was a state of foggy shock.
Two soft hands gently pressed Minerva back down onto the bed. "You've had quite the shock, Miss McGonagall," the Matron said kindly, passing the girl a goblet of luminous red liquid. "Come on. Drink this up. It'll help with the pain."
"W-what happened?" Minerva asked wildly, desperately trying to recall what had happened. All that came to mind was a mess, a cold tangle of snapshots that made no sense together. And something else, like a word you try in vain to say but can't quite roll off your tongue. She couldn't place her finger on it, every time she managed to come within a hair's breadth it slipped away again.
"Professor Dumbledore found you in the Forest," the Matron sighed, giving Minerva a look. "Drink up, come on."
Minerva took a sip, coughing as the Potion burnt her throat, searing as it went down. But from the look she was being given, she knew she had better finish it all. She gulped the rest down in one swallow, immediately regretting it as her insides lit up on fire.
"But-" she questioned, as soon as the burning had passed. "Why was I in the Forest?"
"That's something I would like to know too," the Matron grabbed the goblet back, weighing it in one hand. "But now is not the time for questioning, Miss McGonagall. You need rest. Answers come later."
"But I need to know!" Minerva pressed, propping herself up on her elbows again, rubbing her eyes and feeling for her glasses, which were surely on the cabinet on her right. "I can't remember... All I remember is waking up this morning and being late for Potions."
"Answers later," the Matron repeated, pushing Minerva back down again and pulling the blanket up past her shoulders, tucking in the sides. "Not that I believe there is much to tell. What I have said is all anyone knows. I believe Professor Dumbledore mentioned that you went to see him, and you were acting strangely, but that is all we know. Now rest."
Minerva gave in, the few fragments of information swirling around her mind as she struggled to make sense of them. What had happened? Why couldn't she remember anything? And why was something so close to recollection, when her conscious mind wouldn't let her grasp the pieces?
The search for her glasses was abandoned, and her eyes closed again, sleepiness overwhelming her.
In the limbo state between dreams and reality, the pieces finally began to make some sort of fragile sense. Minerva frantically read them, trying to recall them all as her mind slipped further and further into unconsciousness. But then they were gone, perhaps for forever.
A memory of a massive, mountainous spacecraft, made out of metal and plastic, towering above her. A monster with a beak and a shrivelled body, the name of it slipping out of her grip. And a boy.
But Minerva knew that this boy was not real. She knew that now.
The last thing she saw before she drifted off to sleep, was a shadow of Professor Dumbledore, leaning over her with solemn eyes, speaking words that would remain in the shallow corners of her mind until her death.
'As much as I admire your dedication to fantasy, it has to stop now.'