Three stun spells should have killed McGonagall. That is what a St. Mungo's department head is trying to wrap her head around as her muggle brother suggests McGonagall is an alien. After the war, she finds more clues as a new threat from the stars emerges, that will require the help of Luna, the Gold Trio, and McGonagall to fight.

Hi all! For this story, it wouldn't hurt to be a superhero fan, to help swallow some of the ideas I'm presenting. I know my OC's don't always work, but there is just so much unexplored in Harry Potter's world. I WILL include more HP characters as soon as I'm done with the foundation.

I wanted to write more, I just got tired. I have about five hours to write tomorrow, I hope.

The Mysteries of Minerva

Sophie

Despite being known as a witch, I deal in facts, not fantasy. Minerva McGonagall, a seventy-five-year-old witch of mixed parentage was admitted to St. Mungo's at twelve-thirty a.m. suffering from four stun spells to the chest. A stun spell knocks a person unconscious and immobilizes them. For the first six hours of treatment, McGonagall didn't respond to any sort of stimuli, reviving potions, or spells. It was only her pulse and slight breathing that indicated life systems were functioning. It was determined that if she didn't regain consciousness in four more hours, her prognosis was catastrophic.

Poppy Pomfrey sent owls every half-hour. She kept expressing guilt in being unable to attend to McGonagall, as there was a monster in charge of Hogwarts who might do worse to the students if she wasn't present. I also knew the O. were being administered and that was often when the most calamitous magic occurred. The school needed her more.

Pecks of owls came from the rest of the faculty. All of them expressed regret and fear for students after seeing what happened to their deputy headmistress.

At one point I saw Fawkes at a window. I glared at him. Dumbledore should have been there. Dumbledore should have found Umbridge, turned her into a frog (which wouldn't be a stretch), and dropped her in the deepest part of the lake to see if she'd drown. The presence of the phoenix did not assure me.

I am a Ravenclaw so I wasn't particularly close to her while at Hogwarts, but the sight of her barely breathing moved me to pity beyond words. The thought of someone attacking the moral backbone of Hogwarts, made me want to set the ministry on fire.

"Ms-Wil-so?"

I wasn't her student, yet she still managed to interrupt any plots of misdeed. I quickly rushed to her side.

"Breath slowly," I said and raised my wand in her eyes. "Don't try to talk."

"Bu Hag—"

"They never found him," I said.

Relief filled her face.

I opened my palm by her right hand. "Try to make a fist in my palm."

Her fingers scrunched ever so slightly. She gritted her teeth as she kept trying but couldn't move them anymore.

"That's good!" I said encouragingly.

Tears still dripped from her eyes.

"You were hit with four stun spells, Professor," I said. "It's a miracle you're alive."

She didn't look happy. "Stud-ents nee me. Pot-ter nee me."

I patted her hand. "You'll be with them again."

She didn't look convinced.

I left to make some notes and meet with her attending healers.

When I had a free minute, I looked up the personal file for Umbridge. As I ascribe to the muggle motto "Not harm," I resisted the urge to change her potion preferences to something that might kill her. I mentally copied her address. Then I went into my office and filled out a Weasley's Wizard Wheezes order form that had made its way into the tearoom. I ordered the most expensive items on the list and sent them sent to her home. My profession may prevent me from physically harming the witch, but that wouldn't stop me from inconveniencing her to the fullest extent imaginable.

…

McGonagall's progress confused me as much as it agitated her. She should be dead, yet she was frustrated she couldn't use her legs for the first couple of days. She should be in what muggles describe as a persistent vegetative state, yet three days later she was recalling times when she deducted points and discussing old quidditch games with her healers. Her mental health should have been a wreck, but she was writing letters and talking to the portraits in a way that suggested her resolve had not faded. Nothing about McGonagall made sense.

Some of the most famous powerful wizards are half-bloods, Dumbledore and Voldemort among them. Magic leads to longevity, not immune to injury. If a person who practices magic is in good health, muggle ailments like arthritis are less likely to affect them. But a spell intended to freeze the muscles, multiplied, should kill anyone under the age of ten and over the age of sixty-five. Spells and potions can strengthen recovery, but in the seconds after such a curse hits, nothing can save a person's life. Lineage should be no match to certain spells when multiplied.

I came in to go over discharge paperwork a week later.

"What troubles you Ms. Wilson?" she asked as she adjusted her cloak.

"You-Know-Who is back," I said. "I saw it in the paper this morning."

"Don't lie to me young lady," she said sternly.

I had been out of Hogwarts for ten years at that point and she still intimidated me.

"Are you curious how you survived four stun spells to the chest?" I asked.

"Yes," she said. "But truthfully, Ms. Wilson now is not the time to be asking such questions. The forces of darkness are gathering and my students will need me. Just as your patients will need you."

"You're too right professor," I said.

She offered her hand. "Take good care, Ms. Wilson. I don't intend to see you again any time soon."

"I hope not," I said as I shook it.

Leaning heavily onto her cane, she left. I watched her with more questions than answers.

My superiors were inclined to write it off as a magical event. But being the child of two doctors, made me less inclined to go along with such an idea. I believed Minerva McGonagall should have been killed by four stun spells which left the question: How did she survive? Would I believe the answer?