It was September 26th when Mirana went into labor while at work. Mrs. Avery, her boss, recognized the signs of labor from her won deliveries, and told her that she could hold down the store on her own. "Just apparate to St. Mungo's as quickly as possible!"
Looking back at the past nine months, Mirana had no idea why she whined so much about the little aches and pains she was going through- she would have took that over this.
It was Millie's day off, but she readily agreed to stay with Mirana. Penny, on the other hand, was behind Mirana's legs, excitedly assisting with the birth. Mirana screamed, clutching hand onto Millie's hand.
Penny jerked her head up. Even though her mouth was hidden behind a mask, Mirana could tell that she was grinning from ear to ear. "It's a boy!" she yelled. Had she been a second too late in sharing the news, nobody would have heard her. There came a small wail, loud and high enough that Mirana thought that any werewolves in the close vicinity would howl back at him.
It's a boy. Those three words that Mirana had feared hearing. She had no husband, nobody to teach her, or help her understand him. How could she relate to him?
Penny came over and plopped a pink little baby down on her stomach. She watched him grab and kick at his new world, and then yell in desperation as his hands and feet hit nothing but the air. His face was squashed and swollen, making him resemble a bald pug. And was that blood covering him? Nasty.
Penny whisked him away, and a nurse asked Mirana for his name. Mirana hadn't gave much thought to boy's names, and quickly dug one up. "Q-Q-Quirinus. Quirinus Slatero." Yes. Quirinus Slatero Quirrell seemed to fit him perfectly.
Millie grinned at her. "Slatero?"
"My father's middle name."
Penny came back with a blue bundle, and smiled at Quirinus before handing him back to his mother. "He's gorgeous, Mirana."
Mirana took her little boy. Millie had taught her how to hold babies. "Head on your inner elbow, and hand on his back," she told herself. He opened his big, blue eyes, looked at his mother, and went back to sleep. He wasn't as ugly as he was when he was crying. The way that he totally depended on her actually made Mirana feel good- like she was needed and loved by another family member again.
Dumbledore sat in the chair beside Mirana's bed, holding Quirinus, and grimaced slightly as the finger that Quirinus had previously been grasping went into his mouth.
"Headmaster Dumbledore, when will I be able to tell if he's a wizard or not?"
Dumbledore chuckled. "Patience, Ms. Quirrell, patience. He's not even an hour old. Let's let him figure out how to hold his head up first, shall we?" He saw the impatient look on Mirana's face. "There is no set age, but I've found that most children develop their abilities around the age of seven years old. That's around the time that they've learned how to channel their anger." Quirinus spat Dumbledore's finger out, and started whimpering. But before anything could happen, Dumbledore had him calmed back down. Mirana stared at him.
"How did you do that? He almost never shuts up when I'm holding him."
Dumbledore shrugged. "Maybe you aren't at peace. Babies can pick up on our stress, even if we can't. Although, I can't sat that I blame you for being stressed out." There was a moment of silence between the three before Dumbledore finally spoke again. "So, a boy? Seems like I heard a man give you hints at what "Leia" actually was."
Mirana grinned. "Yeah, I remember that, too. It was the same old coot that put the name Quirinus in my mind.
"Quirinus Slatero Quirrell. Male. Eight pounds, two ounces. Born on September 26th, 1967 at exactly 6:46 p.m to Mirana Victoria Quirrell at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries. Congratulations on your new addition!" rang Penny's voice. The blue envelope folded itself up again, and floated down to the floor of Romulus Quirrell's study.
Romulus repressed a smile. He looked down at the picture of a baby that came with the envelope. He sat down on his bed, and cried.
A grandson. He had a little grandson.