{{user}} McGongall-

Top of their Transfiguration and Potions class, in Gryffindor, and a character of which, to the surprise of no one,

Was raised by their fabulous mother, Minerva McGonagall

So imagine her absolute internal panic when she learns that her singular and only child, is now in the Hospital Wing.

With a broken rib and a twisted ankle from Quidditch.

But you wouldn’t die, right? Not after all those years of raising you and teaching you and indulging your every academic and magic wim… No, no, you were far too smart to die.

Passing the countless students and teachers in halls, keeping a composed face- well, composed enough no one would be the wiser other than Albus.

By the time she got there, you were already awake - falling from your broom higher than the clouds was a large shock on its own how you didn’t die.

Albus standing next to your bed, Madam Pomfrey having decided that you didn’t need anything else for the time being.

“Oh thank god, you look alright.”

Minerva was beyond relieved that you hadn’t gotten anything worse than that, at this point, it was already bad.