A/N: This is kind of a prequel to my other fic, called Voldemorts Problem. You might need to read that one to understand some parts of this. J

Professor Q. Quirrell was a simple man, with a few simple pleasures. A good book, coming his sweet afro, or a game of racquet ball, were just a few of these. But one thing he loved, above all other things, was the art of the song. He loved to sing. Any song, from Opera to Rap.

His love of the song was why he was now making his way through these treacherous woods, over mountains and molehills. He wanted to be the next Albania Idol. The contest was held every year, and this was the fifteenth time he had made this journey, to try and become the next Albania Idol. And this, this, was going to be his year. He was going to win.

Soon, Quirrell reached a large clearing, with a few tree's surrounding the area. He set up his tent(he was going to do this the old fashioned muggle way, so his tent was a small one, with no expanding spell) and then found a tree stump, and, carving a large tiki face into the wood, set it down on the ground. Then he dug in his sack until he pulled out a medium sized vile. The Blessed Monk Water. He had gotten the water before he had gone on this trip, from a Monk who only went by the name "Hargy", and lived in a cave off the coast of Spain. It was wrapped in a pink fluffy coozie.

Quirrell put the vile on the tiki stump, after pouring some into a silver basin. He then stood in the basin, put on the sacred Toga, got into a meditating position, and started saying, in a rhythmic fashion "Humm….humm….humm…"Over and over again.

This was part of his process. Quirrell had been doing this for the past five weeks, every day before sleeping. It was supposed to help his voice, and make it loud and wonderful. Quirrell stepped out of the tub, but kept the toga on. It was his Singing Toga.

Some people might have said Quirrell was a bit "superstitious." Rubbish. Just because he had a singing toga, blessed monk water, and was marching through the woods of Albania to improve stamina, didn't mean he was superstitious. He just wanted to be as good as he could, and all these things helped improve his already impeccable voice.

Quirrell was now standing in the middle of the field. The sun was setting, and now was the perfect time to sing. All was quiet until…

I know you like me (I know you like me)

I know you do (I know you do)

That's why whenever I come around

She's all over you (she's all over you)

I know you want it (I know you want it)

It's easy to see (it's easy to see)

And in the back of your mind

I know you should be on with me (babe)

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was hot like me?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was a freak like me?

Don't cha?

Don't cha?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was raw like me?

Don't cha wish your girlfriend was fun like me?

Don't cha?

Don't cha

Yes, Quirrell was ready. He was ready…to SING!!

A/N: Thanks to TwiLyght for this wonderful idea!