Nobody Told Me There'd Be Days Like These

Quirinus Quirrell sat at the table, hunched over his copy of Moste Potente Potions. He hummed quietly to himself as he slowly ran his finger down the list of ingredients for Polyjuice Potion. First, lacewing flies. Getting these had been no problem. There were scads of them in the gardens and he was glad of it as they ate the aphids that got at the roses. The leeches had been easy too, though picking them up had made him extremely nauseous. Q had been pleased to find that knotgrass was available (certified organic!) at the local health food shop. He’d resolved to try some as a remedy the next time he caught cold. And thank goodness it hadn’t been raining when he’d gone to collect the fluxweed! The bicorn horn had presented a bit of a problem, though when he’d asked for it, the luggage had just popped out and come back an hour later with a small jar full of a nasty-smelling yellow-white powder. Just as well the box had gone for it, as the bicorn fed on human flesh. He wondered how the Apothecary in Diagon Alley got their supply. Q had played and sung for the luggage until he was hoarse as a thank you. The boomslang skin had been easier. When Q had asked the luggage for some, it had opened to reveal enough snake skin to open a belt shop. Q had just taken a bit and shredded it. The flies had been simmering over a magical fire for the requisite three weeks now and all that was left was to mix it up. Singing softly, Q pulled out the little cast iron camp pot he’d gotten. “She bent down and turned around and gave me a wink, ” he crooned as he dumped the flies, leeches and bicorn horn into the pot. “”She said I’m gonna mix it up right here in the sink, ” Q sang on, stirring in the knotgrass and fluxweed with the spoon that he would never, ever use for cooking again. “It smelled like turpentine, it looked like India ink,”, now for the boomslang skin. Q stirred the bits into the rest of the ingredients. “I closed my eyes, I held my nose, I took a drink! There! All done!” Q peered at the dark, muddy-looking goo. It bubbled sluggishly in the cauldron. “Looks good to me!” He called to the luggage. It was sitting by the piano. Q wondered if it felt some sort of kinship with it as it too was a wooden box made by magic. He shrugged. Maybe it just liked the music. “All we need now is a bit of Ianto and a bit of Jack and Bob’s your uncle. I’m going up to the main house to tell them it’s ready. Coming with?” The luggage didn’t reply and Q realised that there was a soft sound of sawing. The luggage was apparently having a nap. “Oh well,” Q shrugged, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the door whistling. He walked up to the back door of the main building and knocked on the door.

Just a mad bit of whimsy for your Halloween pleasure! Enjoy!

Q sits at the piano. "Ready John?" he asks the turtle. You have to sing too you know. It's only right since you were named after him." He cracks his knuckles then starts to play and sing at the top of his lungs.


You say it's your birthday
It's my birthday too, yeah
They say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.

Yes we're going to a party party
Yes we're going to a party party
Yes we're going to a party party

I would like you to dance (Birthday)
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance (Birthday)
I would like you to dance (Birthday)
Dance

I would like you to dance (Birthday)
Take a cha-cha-cha-chance (Birthday)
I would like you to dance (Birthday)
Dance

You say it's your birthday
Well it's my birthday too, yeah
You say it's your birthday
We're gonna have a good time
I'm glad it's your birthday
Happy birthday to you.

Q, wearing his usual work clothes, is puttering around his front steps. It's quite early, but the sun is bright and he is singing.

Good morning good morning
good morning good morning
good morning, a

Nothing to do to save his life
call his wife in
Nothing say but what a day
how's your boy been
Nothing to do, it's up to you
I've got noting to say but it's O.K.

Good morning good morning
good morning a

John is in a shallow pan on the porch, basking in the sun and, for all anyone can tell, enjoying the day and the song.

Q is having a heated argument with a dandelion, who's root seems to be embedded in concrete. He's waiting for Jack so they can beard the badger in it's den.

Q leads Elric up the path to his cottage. He rather self-consciously unlocks the door and throws it open. "Well, here we are!" He goes in and switches on the lights. "Welcome to my humble abode." He bows awkwardly and grins. "That's my piano there under the window," he says, pointing. "Have a look." He heads for the kitchen. "I'm going to make tea," he tells Elric. "Would you like some?" Q fills the kettle and puts it on the stove. "That's John, my turtle in the tank on the piano. I think he likes my playing. It's kind of hard to tell with a turtle though." He comes back to the lounge. "Sit down," he encourages, pulling out the bench. "Give it a try."

Q sauntered down the high street, hands in his pockets, whistling the whistling bit from Dock of a Bay.( The day was cloudy but warm. )

The sun was well up but the grass was still wet as Q waded through the stuff, up almost to his knees in some spots, to the first of the hedges that surrounded the grounds of the spa. He had a list of things to be done that Ianto had given him in his pocket, ( Read more... )

Q looked around his new living room and decided to move the table.( Read more... )

Q looked around his new house. It was very nice, far better than he thought he had any right to expect. Not much room for a piano, but he wouldn't have one there all the time. And the table in the living room would be a perfect place to keep his turtle when he finally got one. He'd have to have a go at the bushes out there though. They were getting out of hand.

The Cottage

( See inside )

Hurt! Burning! GOD! What was that?! Hands? Voices shrieking, one of them his! Someone yelling at him to get something! He was trying, but the pain! It hurt too much! He couldn’t! He MUST! He couldn’t! He was dying from the pain! He didn’t want to die! NO! Hurts! Can’t! Make it stop! I’m dying! Must stop the pain! Don’t want to die! A flash of silver in the corner of his eye. Water? Maybe. Stop the pain! He lunged…falling…all was lost. His head exploded and he fell into blackness, down…down…down…

( Quirinus Quirrell sat bolt upright, panting. )