"Wait, let me get this straight..." Lucius raised his eyebrow. "You watched a white man in a turban take shits?"
"Let ME get this straight..." Bellatrix held back a giggle. "You saw another man's naked body?"
"Shut up! Or else I'll hex you two to have tails! Now then, where was I?"
"I believe you were on your first day at Hogwarts with... Er... Quimbly?"
"Quirrell." Voldemort cleared his throat, and fidgeted in his seat. "So, there I was, in the purple turban..."
Hogwarts Castle, Quirrell's Classroom
"You know..." Hermione said, seated at the front row of the class. "I heard that we're supposed to have double potions class with the Slytherins."
"What? You can't be serious!" Ron was behind her, with Harry to his right.
"They can't be that bad, right?"
"You've got no bloody idea, Harry."
"By the way," Hermione looked around the classroom. "Where's the teacher? He's late, yes?"
"I've got no problem with that. No work for us means I get to rela-"
*Bam!*
The door to the classroom burst open, and in ran Quirrell, fastening his turban hastedly and wiping white powder off of his robes.
"Um... Professor?"
"Oh?" Quirrell fastened his turban, and turned to Ron. "Y-yes?"
"What... What happened?"
"Oh, t-this? You kn-know th-the big fe-fellow with the b-beard?"
"Hagrid?" Said Harry?"
"Y-yes! Him! He bumped into m-me, ho-holding a b-bag of powdered dr-dragon's mil-ilk..."
"Is it me?" Hermione whispered. "Or does the new proffessor seem nervous?"
Stop stuttering, fool! You look much to suspicious!
"B-but my lord. I've never taught... Chi-children be-before!" Quirrell whispered. No one heard him, so Quirrell began his attempt at teaching.
Remember! Voldemort wanted the act to be as perfect as possible. Don't cock it up! And be sure to put up the fascade of... Teacher...ness... I guess. Idunno, just act natural.
"Good e-evening students." Quirrell reached into his robes, and cleared his throat. He pulled out his wand, and started writing in the air, forming glowing purple words. "My na-name is P-Professer Qui-Quirre-Quirrell... But you can j-just call me Pr-Proffessor Qui-Quirrell..."
"Proffessor, you already said that."
"Oh! Di-Did I?" Quirrell laughed nervously, and twiddled his fingers together, like Hinata from Naruto. "Well, I've neve-never ex-exactly... T-t-taught anyone before..."
"It's okay professor!" Hermione beamed at Quirrell, freaking him out a bit. "Just start off with something easy! Maybe something like an ice-breaker!"
"A-An Ice br-breaker?"
"What's an ice breaker?" Ron whispered.
"What's an ice breaker?" Seamus said.
What's an ice breaker?
"An ice breaker," Began Hermione. "Is something the muggles do in their first years of school. Though, they're really called grades, instead of years, but-"
" Just 'urry up then!" Seamus yelled/
"Alright, fine! Ice breakers are little games of questions that let us get to know eachother better. For instance..." Hermione turned to Ron. "Ronald."
"Er, yeah?"
"I'll tell you something about my family, and you tell me something about yours."
"Alright then. You go first though. I don't know what to say..."
"Very well." Hermione cleared her throat, while Quirrell and Voldemort watched.
Quirrell, is this really happening?
"It would appear so, my Lord..."
Alright, no one seems to suspect you of anything yet. Just keep it rolling!
"My family comes from a long line of doctors and scholars. And yours?"
"Er... My family comes from a long line of poor people..."
"See?" Hermione turned to Quirrel. "That was an ice breaker. Now share some things about you!"
"Huh? Well... Er... I guess I... I l-like to p-pick flowers, I was a p-prodigy at Defense a-against the D-Dark Arts when I c-came to H-Hogwarts, and I've t-travelled the w-world..."
"See? Don't you feel better?" Hermione was wrong. Quirrell didn't feel better at all.
Just... Ugh...
If he had a body, Voldemort would've facepalmed at this point.
Just teach the f*cking lesson already!
"Ah, ye-yeah! M-much better! Now then. I will nee-need to take some att-attendance. *Ahem!* Dean Thomas?"
"Here!"
"Seamus F-Finnigan?"
"'Ere!" After Quirrell went through many names, and sending the paper down the hall (With magic, of course), started moving parchment,quills, and inkwells down the rows, to each desk.
"Now then..." Quirrell grabbed his wand once more, and started writing in the air. "T-today, as o-our first less-lesson, we'll le-learn about b-basic undead."
"Undead?" Neville said. "L-like, zombies and ghouls?"
"I kno-know, I was ra-rather scared when I fi-first learned this s-stuff."
"Seems scared now..." Seamus whispered to Dean.
"Eitherway, co-copy these n-notes down."
Vampires
The vampire is a basic undead. It's basic knowledge, even to muggles, to how to stop one. The first recording vampire came from Romania, but reports spread to places as far as China and Africa, with such things as Jiangshi and...
As he wrote, Voldemort sniffed. Then, he opened his mouth.
"ACHOO!" Quirrell's robe fluttered from the back, and it almost slipped off.
"Huh? Who sneezed?"
"Woah! Professor, you're bald!?"
"Ah!" Quirrell quickly redid his turban, while making a half-assed attempt at explaination. "I-It's not bald! It's s-s-simply be-because of the A-Afri-African va-vampire I m-met!"
"Woah! You met a vampire!?"
"That's awesome! How'd you survive then?" The whole class put their quills down, and leaned in towards Quirrell, who let out a meek squeak.
"Ah! Well, it- it was re-really no-nothing..."
"Can you tell us the story?" Ron said. "We're learning about vampires, right? This'll help with the lesson, right?"
"Well... I sup-suppose that that-ll be...Alright then. So... There I w-was, in Africa. Y-you see, a p-prince in-invited me t-to his p-palace..."
The Whole Period After
"So you see, that's why I wear this turban." Quirrell, looked at a sundial near the window, and coughed. "Well, it seems that the class has ended... Hopefully, you did learn something from the story! Class dismissed!" Quirrell sat down in his desk, as the smiling Gryffindors got up and left the room.
"Bye professor!"
"See you tomorrow, professor Quirrel!"
"Hope you don't meet that vampire!" When the room lay empty, Quirrell took out a flask from his robes, and started drinking.
"Whew!" Quirrell undid his turban.
"Ahh!" Voldemort took a deep breath, and smiled. "Well, you seem to be pupular with the brats!"
"Was I? I just-"
"And you still went with that African Vampire lie? Props."
"Well, thank you, my Lord. However, I can't go through all the classes simply telling stories..."
"They're first years! And now that you've gained more confidence, and stopped stuttering... For now... You can teach anyway you want!"
"Why do you care how I teach? No offense meant, My Lord..."
"Eh, fine. As long as we get the illusion across, do whatever you need to do. Now then, I presume you know the plan?"
"You mean the Philosopher's Stone? How are we going to find it? Is it even around here?"
"Not sure. The guy who wrote this shit forgot the details." As Voldemort and Quirrell talked, the door creaked open. Quirrell quickly turned his face towards the door, as to hide Voldemort from whoever walked into the room.
"Hm... Quirrell, I though I heard noises coming from here..."
"Oh, Snape! No, just me, ta-talking to m-myself!"
"I see... How did your lessons with the Gryffindors go?"
"Q-quite smoothly, a-actually."
"With that stutter? Quirrell, do you have anxiety?"
"Ah! N-n-no, I'm j-just a l-little n-nervous ab-about this p-place."
"What's there to be nervous about..." Snape cracked a slight grin. "...I mean, unless you fell down the stairs..."
"No- I mean, I f-fell wh-when I was a student h-here, but-"
"Ah, yes..." Snape walked towards Quirrell, who quickly put on his turban. "Ah... You're bald? That's besides the point. I've always had a habit of forgetting that almost all the professors here attended Hogwarts. As a Defense against the Dark Arts teacher..."
"Eep!" Snape's voice seemed to carry a serene anger with it, as he said 'Defense against the Dark Arts teacher.'
"...I presume your knowledge of the subject is quite large. Mind demonstrating?"
"Er, well, I'm r-rather ti-tired by the l-lesson f-from before, so I-I'd b-bett-" Snape put one hand on Quirrell's desk, and another carressing his Dark Mark.
"Surely, one of your status must at least do a simple defensive spell... What do you say?" Snape pulled out his black wand. "...One...Quick...Demonstration?"
"I-I-If I must..."Quirrell fastened his turban tightly, and grabbed his wand. Snape moved the desks to the side (With magic, of course), and Quirrell took position at the front, while Snape moved to the back of the class.
Remember! Make sure he doesn't hit your head!
"Yes," Quirrell whispered. "I'm quite aware of that, my Liege."
"To whom are you speaking to, Quirrell?" Quirrell looked at Snape, who felt his arm once more."In a duel, one must not lose concentration. Now then, you cast first." Snape took a stance that looked much like a fencing stance, while Quirrell's trembling hand slowly lifted up.
"F-F-Flippendo!" A light bolt dashed at Snape, who simply flicked his wand upwards. The bolt had crashed into the ceiling, creating a crack in it.
"My turn..." Snape said nothing, as he moved a chair to the back of Quirrell's face.
Behind you!
Quirrell quickly ducked, as Voldemort wiggled a hole out of the turban fold with his nose. I know, right? Weird how he had a nose in the first movie, but later- Eh, forget it. Snape felt another wincing pain in his arm.
"Well done, Quirrell." Snape stopped the chair, ignoring the pain, and cast another spell. "Avifors!" The desk had transfigured into a flock of ravens, who rushed at Quirrell.
"Agh! Finite I-Incatatum!" The birds merged together into a desk, and they flew behind Quirrell, barely missing his head.
Sweet Faustus, Quirrell! Watch out!
"Hm...Interesting... But it couldn't be..." Snape decided to stop feeling his arm, and bore through the pain.
"L-Locomotor Mort-Mortis!" As Quirrell yelled this, Snape's legs stuck together, and Snape nearly fell. Snape chuckled.
"Interesting! Even with your little stuttering habit, you still manage to be good at casting spells. Waddiwasi!" Snape's legs unstuck, and he pointed his wand at Quirrell's flask. "Accio!"
"Ah!" Quirrell moved left, as the flask moved to Snape's hand.
"Drinking in Hogwarts? Tsk Tsk, Quirrell... Aguamenti!"
Quirrell, watch out!
"Agh!" It was too late. The flask, being lighter than the chair, moved faster, and it hit Quirrell, who fell on the floor, square in the head. The contents of the flask poured out of it, and it got Quirrell's turban wet.
"Well, that was certainly... Interesting..." Snape breathed heavily, not because of the dukel, but due to his Dark Mark. It tingled everytime Voldemort spoke, but he didn't know this yet. "I must see Madam Pomfrey. My arm is rather sore... Perhaps you should see her as well..." Moaning, Quirrell got up, and felt his head, noticing the turban was on the floor. He couldn't loo to make sure, because if he did, Snape would see Voldemort.
"Oh, my turban!"
"It's right behind you, Quirrell... Why not... Turn around and pick it up... Unless you don't want me to see you from behind, of course..."
"W-What? O-Of course- I m-mean, I've gained a l-l-little w-weight ov-over the summer-"
Sheesh, you ain't kidding
"And I'm rather... W-Well, I'd better be getting things r-ready fo-for my ne-next class. Goodbye S-Snape... Accio." The turban flew back onto Quirrell's head, and he moved the chairs and desks to their original positions.
"...Indeed. Good bye, Quirrell..." Snape almost stepped out of the back door, before he poked his head back in. "You know... I had a considerable skill in DADA as well... You'd do well to know that..."
"Are y-you th-t-threatening m-me?"
"No... I wouldn't threaten you unless I had a... Reason too..." Snape left the room, and Quirrell took his turban off.
"Sweet Merlin, Quirrell!" Voldemort coughed. "Whaddya put in that flask!?"
"Er... Firewhisky, Pixie Tear, and some Rice Wine, heated by Dragon's breath."
"Wow, really? It's so strong!"
"E-Er... Well, if it wasn't like that, I wou-would be stuttering even more..."
"Even more!? Good God, have you seen a psychiatrist? Eitherway, that was way too close!"
"Whew... You say that S-snape was your... Follower?"
"Yeah... He was quite loyal, though I thiink he might have diisobeyed me because I killed his high school crush or something... Eh... He's pretty emo now..."
"Yeah... He's quite s-scary too..." Quirrell looked at a stack of papers on his desk, and looked at the door. "Next class is the Ravenclaws. At least they'll learn some stuff properly..."
3 Classes (With the Ravenclaws, Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs (Who?) Later
"Oh..." Quirrell lay on his bed, taking off his turban. "God, why'd you choose a teacher as my cover, my Lord?"
"Well, we can't have you be a janitor, can we?" Voldemort's voice was muffled by the mattress pressing against his face. "...Hey, can you just sit up from now on?"
"Hm? Oh, sorry!" Quirrell sat up, while Voldemort coughed.
"Geez! This place is dusty as hell. Doesn't the janitor do anything here? Or those house elves?"
"Well, they havce alot of ground to cover. Hold on." Quirrell pulled out his wand. "Scourgify!" The dust on the bed had dissapeared, and Voldemort took a deep breath.
"Ah... That's better. Now then, about the Philosopher's Stone..."
"Hm... Well, it was gone when we robbed Gringotts... Couldn't we have at least lifted some cash whle we were there?"
"No, one such as I has no need for money!"
"Well, I, as a mundane wizard, do. Eitherway, it has to be somewhere in the school, but where?"
"Hm..." Voldemort gasped. "I got it! Hagrid!"
"Hagrid?"
"We'll just as that oaf! Remember that ghetto hut?"
"Of course! As a teacher, I'll get more information and trust... But he's scary..."
"*Sigh* Fine, let me think of a plan... Pussy..."
"W-what?!"
*Creak!*
"Ah!" Quirrell waved his wand, and the turban quickly wrapped around his head, as Dumbledore walked into the room.
"Quirinus..." Dumbledore smiled, while Quirrell shaked nervously.
"Oh, D-D-Dumbledore! I mean- Headmaster!"
"Oh, no need to be so formal Quirrell..." Dumbledore stepped inside the room, and sat on a random chair. "So, how was your first day as teacher?"
"Oh, I gu-guess it w-was fi-"
"Hold on for a minute..." Dumbledore reached into his robes, and pulled out the Elder Wand.
Holy SHIT! That's the f*cking Elder Wand... Well, I'm going to add that to the checklist of things to do when I regain power...
"Whoa... Is th-that the E-E-Elder W-Wand?"
"Ah. You are aware of the tale? I've had it for a good while now... Just hold still Quirrell. Sonarus Reparo!" The room was silent after he said that.
"Er... Headmaster, was that supposed to do something?"
"There we go! Your stutter will be gone for the duration that I'm here..."
"Wait, really!? Thank you Dumbledore!"
"So, as I was saying, how were your lesssons?"
"Well, the Gryffindors liked my story about vampires, and learned some things from it as well. The Ravenclaws were quiet, and got much work done. The Slytherins cast paper cranes and airplanes at my turban-"
Now I f*cking hate Lucius' boy...
"And the Hufflepuffs mostly stayed to themselves."
"What the hell is a Hufflepuff? Eh, eitherway, it's time for dinner now. Would you like to come later?"
"Ah, thank you Headmaster!" Dumbledore left the room, and Quirrell got up, and walked to the wardrobe.
"Wait, hold up a minute." Voldemort said, muffled by the turban. Quirrell took off his turban, and Voldemort resumed.
"Yes?"
"Why are you changing? You're already dressed!"
"Well, I want to look good for dinner."
"*Sighs* Look in the mirror..." Quirrell looked at a mirror. "Now tell me..."
"...Yes?"
"...Do you look bad?" Quirrell stared at the mirror, and twisted and turned to look at his robes.
"Well, no, but I just want to wear something different for dinner."
"Oh. My. God. Quirrell! You sound like Bellatrix!"
"Who?"
"Gah! Nevermind. Look, just go downstairs and eat without the change of robes!"
"What if it gets dirty?"
"You. Are. A. Wizard! Use Scourgify or some shit!"
"Oh, fine!" Quirrell put on his turban, and walked down to the Great Hall. As we walked to his seat amongst the other professors, he looked at Harry Potter, who ate with Ron at the table.
Oh, he's right there! Just like in the classroom, we could've killed him!
"Hm... I know, but we have to play this smart." Quirrell whispered as quietly as he could, but he was overheard by Flitwick, who sat next to him.
"Who're you talking to, Quirrell?"
"Hm? Oh, n-no one, Flitwick!"
"I could've sworn that you said 'We have to pla-'"
"Well, th-that's because I... I c-come from ano-another country!"
"Really?" Flitwick turned to Quirrell. "You seem rather British to me..."
"My... mother made me speak french around the house, and I had to s-speak English outside the house."
"Ah!" Dumbledore apparated behind Quirrell, giving him a heart attack.
"Oh, God!"
"Tu parle Francais?"
"...Uh..."
'Oui', you fool! Say 'Oui!'
"Wait," Quirrell said quietly to Voldemort. "You speak french?"
"Of course I do!" Dumbledore mistook Quirrell's statement to be aimed at him. "I know muggle languages as well! Ou est le maison tu-"
"Hey! Look!" Quirrell panicked, and pointed behind Dumbledore. "Snape's missing!"
Hey... He is!
"Hm? Oh," Dumbledore looiked at Snape's seat. "He went to see madam Pomfrey. Something about his arm hurting.
What?! Quirrel, we must return to our room! SHIT! Shouldn't've said that!
"Oi!" Quirrell held his stomach, while Dumbledore raised his eyebrow.
"Are you okay, Quirrell?"
"Oh, it's no-nothing! Just a stomachache! I'm sorry Headmaster! Can I grab some supper l-later?"
"Of course Quirrell." Quirrell quickly dissaperated into his room, making many students and staff turn their heads to where he once was.
Quirell's Room
"Oh..." Quirrell appeared sprawled on the floor, with his turban falling off."...Never got the hand of apparation..."
"Okay, I've something important to tell you!" Voldemort's face had a panic look on it.
"What is it, my lord?" Quirrell stood up, dusting himself off.
"I've made a huge error! You know how I said Snape used to serve me?!"
"...Yes?"
"I've just realized something! If I talk, I'm simply using your vocal chords... Albeit in a more f*cked up voice..."
"And what's the issue?"
"It's when I talk to you with telepathy! Since I'm getting my thoughts into your brain, I'm using magic! And since Snape has a Dark Mark, he can sense it! Do you know what this means?!"
"Er..."
"Snape suspects that I'm back!"
"Oh, shit!"
"Alright, I can't speak to you telepathicallly anymore... I mean, I don't think Snape knows completely, so I'd better only use it in emergencies..."
"Oh... Right then, can I go back to the-"
*BOOM!*
Snape burst through the door, holding his wand out at Quirrell, who had his turban off.
"I knew it! You are trying to revive the Dark Master! Quirrell! You're not mentally prepared for this!"
"Snape! I c-" Quirrell held back his stutter. "I c-can handle this!"
"You are a stuttering fool, Quirrell! You aren't ready for the Dark Lord possessing you!"
"Aww... Snape," Voldemort said. "You do care about Quirrell..."
"Enough talk! Snape, Voldemort chose ME!"
"Wow, you're possessive when you're not stuttering..."
"Seriously!" Voldemort chuckled. "I feel like a hot chick right now! Two people fighting over me!"
"Conjuctivitus!" Quirrell pointed at Snape's eyes, while Snape, reclined his wand.
"Prote- AGH! My eyes!" Snape held his eyes, while Quirrell redid his turban. Snape, holding his burning eye with one hand, pointed his wand at Quirrell, who quickly reaimed his wand. They both yelled the same spell at eachother.
"Obliviate!"
"Obliviate!"
Dumbledore's office
"Hah! These muggles are amazing!" Dumbledore sat at his office, holding what appeared to be a laptop. "Hey, Minerva!"
"Yes, Albus?'
"You need to see this!" Mcgonagall walked over to see what Dumbledore was doing, and she raised an eyebrow.
"Is that... Is that a cartoon girl?"
"Yes."
"Spinning a leek and speaking japanese?"
"Not sure if it's japanese, but yeah! Muggles are so creative. Hey, there's another thing I need to show you! Have you ever seen a cat play piano?"
*POOF!*
"Gah!"
"What the- NO!" Dumbledore stood up from his desk too quickly, as his laptop fell onto the floor, smashing onto the ground.
"What was that noise!?"
"Nooo... And I just started watching Dragon Ball..."
"Albus, forget the device! Hurry up!" Mcgonagall and Dumbledore rushed out of the office, and ran up to where the sound came from. They found themselves at Quirrell's door, which Mcgonagall quickly opened. Dumbledore and Mcgonagall rushed inside, to see Quirrell and Snape sitting dumbfoundedly on the floor.
"Oh... My head..."
"Dear Faustus, why?"
"Quirrell?! Snape?!"
"Headmaster, what do you think happened?"
"Let's see." Dumbledore moved to Snape and Quirrel, and crouched to their level. "Snape... Quirrell... Can you tell me what happened?"
"Oh..." Snape shook his head. "...Snape? Who's Snape?"
"Quirrell?" Quirrell laughed. "What a funny soundin' name..."
"Wait, did they... They couldn't have lost their... Oh dear..."
