A Tale of Quirinus Quirrell

Remains of a Dead Man

Quirinus wrinkled his nose as a metallic stench invaded his senses. It was the first sign of life in the broken man since he was thought to be dead down in the depths of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The truth was, the little pale man was by no means weak, as people always jumped to assume. No, the man's strong sense of self preservation drove him to do impossible things. He always survived. In the prison of his dreams, where he had been living for the past several months, he was forced to confront his true weaknesses. What made Quirinus strong even in his very worst state was, for the very first time, his will to confront his foolishness; in his dreams, at least. But now, the man was awakening.

The first thing he felt was an overwhelming heat radiating from his organs. In a heavy state of confusion he attempted to shift his body, but to no avail. After an eternity, or a few seconds, a ghostly presence felt close to him, vibrating with sound he knew he was supposed to embrace, but inside of him; he couldn't think of how to listen during his rebirth.

As his head throbbed and his nose tickled, footsteps approached the edge of his bed. Quirinus, quite oblivious to this, suddenly sneezed. He bolted upright in the small metal bed in a sudden burst of awareness, but the moment quickly passed and he crashed back down onto the mattress with a cry of pain. He was exhausted.

The familiar figure approaching halted his steps. Quirinus crooked his neck to the side in surprise and locked eyes with the man. His head fuzzed and he gasped.

'Albus?' Quirinus choked out.

Quirinus reached up two heavy hands to rub his eyes. After a few moments he was hit with the sudden realisation that the sensation had an unusual texture. He pulled his hands back in confusion. Scars. For the first time in his waking moments he looked up at the Headmaster, searching his pale eyes for an explanation. Quirinus was burdened with the false freedom his confusion gave him in his state of awakening.

Albus frowned and stepped closer to the bed, casting a shadow over the man's form. 'The question you should be asking yourself at the moment, Quirinus, is why are you here?'

A small, pitiful smile and sombre eyes momentarily replaced his frown. As Quirinus stared up at Albus, his body began to suddenly shiver uncontrollably. His face dropped and he snapped his eyes away. He stared down at the quilt draped over his body as chipped memories floated closer to his awareness with each passing second. With a trembling hand, he peeled the quilt away.

A sharp gasp jammed into his lungs as he was met with a body swamped in raw pink scars. His chin trembled and hot tears began to sting his eyes. He squeezed them shut and let out an animalistic cry. Albus offered no comfort as he watched him curl in on himself. He couldn't help but feel pity for the man in his current state. The feeling passed like a fleeting shadow as memories of death and destruction flooded to the forefront of his mind. All the screams and cries, all those glazed eyes... This pathetic man brought it all back! It was only a matter of time, and Albus new it. His guard was boiling away with each whine emitting from the man lying in front of him. He slammed his fist on the bedside table. 'Quirinus!'

Quirinus flinched and ceased his cries. Snapping his head up, he was met with a pink face and wild eyes. Albus quickly snapped back to his senses, his anger now replaced with shame. 'Quirinus... I-I...' Albus stuttered out and looked away. He knew it was time for him to leave. Quirinus watched him briskly walk around the bed and towards the door. He paused at the doorway and turned back to face him. 'You will never be forgiven for this, Quirinus. I hope one day you learn how to forgive yourself... Voldemort may be gone for now, but I think we both know he will be making his return.'

He pulled the door shut behind him.

.................................................................................................