Rating:: PG-13
House:: Schnoogle
Genres:: Drama Angst
Era:: Multiple Eras
Spoilers:: Philosopher's Stone Chamber of Secrets Prizoner of Azkaban Goblet of Fire
Stats:: Published: 11/27/2001

Updated: 09/08/2002

Words: 37,298

Chapters: 18

Hits: 9,293

The Black Forest or the Secret Diary of Prof. S. Quirrell

Hechicera75

Story Summary:: Disappointed by the lack of Quirrell fic, I decided to write one myself. This is the story of an intelligent, gifted and cursed young man goes into the Black Forest in search of knowledge and comes out with one simple truth: there is no good nor evil.

Chapter 07

Chapter Summary:: On the way out of Romania, Quirrell has his first encounter

Posted:: 01/17/2002

Hits:: 381

Author's Note:: "Bun noapte, strain!" is

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July 13

A strange occurrence tonight. As we neared the Yugoslavian border, we stopped for a final rest in Romania. Levin has spoken to me no more than necessary since the brief discussion of my family. She left me alone after the moon rose, preferring to curl up in her blankets for the evening.

I needed a bath - a real one with hot water and a soap in a zinc tub. Unfortunately, I only have a cool river and a sliver of lye Todorov made for me back in Bucharest.

While I was splashing about, feeling truly clean for the first time since I left Charles, a young man stepped out of the woods. He remained at a respectful distance, but he kept his eyes on me.

The attention unnerved me, so I called out to him "bun noapte" in my best Romanian for Travelers.

He came closer, but not close enough for me to get a good look at him in the near half-moonlight. "Bun noapte, strain!"

I whispered the translation spell of myself and for him. He seemed to feel it pass over him and was pleasantly surprised by it. "Are you - one of them?"

"One of whom?"

"You know what I mean. One of them. Sang 'solut."

"Sang 'mol?"

"No, no. Their enemies. Sang 'solut. Are you one of them?"

He came to the edge of the river then and I could see he was no more than 16.

"Yes. From England."

"England? Very nice. What are you called, please?"

"Quirrell."

My surname caused a visible reaction. His eyes brightened until they almost seemed to glow. "Quirrell? I am Dracusor. A pleasure to meet you, master. Cross to my side and shake my hand as you are an English gentleman."

But there was something in his voice that stopped me. Something unfriendly underneath the salutation. "Cross to mine. I need to dress if we're to do this properly."

"No need to. I am not a gentleman, master. Just come over." His voice deepened beyond his years and I identified the thing in that gave me pause - lust.

I wasn't afraid, but I didn't like my position either. I waded back to my half of the shore and dressed quickly, watching him watch me, waiting for an attack.

"You know, Dracusor, I'm suddenly very tired. I think I'll turn in. Are you sure you don't want to come over here?" I asked this out of manners, not actual invitation.

"No, no. We shall meet again, Master Quirrell." I saw the whiteness of his fangs even from the opposite bank. "Until then, good night."

I walked quickly back to camp, even though I knew now he was of a breed that did not cross running water. I was dripping wet and I didn't care. My first vampire! We did nothing but talk, of course - and he inquired after my blood - sang 'solut. Of course, as one would inquire after the types of table wine available!

A vampire. A beautiful young thing, but not yet cunning enough. Perhaps I can coax something about him out of Levin in the morning.

Q

July 14

Ah, Levin.

"Of course I know him."

A long pause. She sped up, dead set on passing into Yugoslavia before midday.

"He's Basur. Only Basur make them that young. Dracusor is a baby still in his mind. By human years, he is one hundred and thirty, but in his brain he is fourteen and will be forever."

"130?"

"Yes. It's good his tricks did not work on you. There are many girls who follow him to their deaths."

"I'm no girl."

"Maybe he couldn't tell." Levin grinned. I hate her more when she smiles than when she bites. "Was he your first?"

"In the wild, yes. The first professor I assisted knew a captive vampire who sold secrets of his people for fresh blood. A deal with the devil, but what they were able to learn!"

Levin continued on in silence for awhile. "You would do evil to gain knowledge."

That assumption upset me. ""No. Not unless it proved absolutely necessary. If I was forced to, perhaps. But no, I wouldn't, if I had another choice."

"You have been taught so, verita mic."

We crossed into the Republic of Yugoslavia at 1 PM. Levin accepted our time as satisfactory and rewarded me with a slightly longer lunch. She herself didn't eat anything, except some green she had foraged the night before. It was odd to see her delicately picking through the vegetable matter. Nature made her a carnivore and that I observed out loud.

"Do not dogs and cats eat grass for their health, verita mic? They are meat-eaters."

"Are you unwell then?"

It was as if ice had passed between us in those words. "I am fine."

We didn't speak again for the rest of the day or the evening.

Q

July 17

Trolls. You recognize them first by the smell, which no book can reproduce or describe, whatever the Olfactory Learner Series may pretend. I won't even attempt to recount it. It is the stink of hell.

Levin sniffed them on the wind long before I did. She didn't mention the odor, but I noticed she was uneasy. Many things make Levin uneasy, however, so I thought little of it. I hiked blithely on, ignoring the lack of birds and other wildlife and the stunted plant growth in our path.

When the first wave of them hit me, I was snacking on a chocolate biscuit. I dropped it immediately and spit out what was in my mouth for fear I would gag on it. My stomach churned, but held.

“Great gods, Levin, what is that?” My eyes watered from it; my nose burned with it.

Levin turned to me, her upper lip glistening with some kind of salve. “Oh, so now you smell them.”

“Yes. Gods, yes!” I thought I was going to pass out for a moment, but Levin quickly gripped my arm and swiped her finger under my nose.

My head filled with a pleasant Eucalyptus odor, obliterating the stench of troll. “What potion is that?”

“Vicks Vaporub.”

“I don't know that concoction.”

“Because it's nici'magie. I took it off an American tourist.”

“Oh. It works.”

“Nici'magie remedies often do.” The rifle was in her hands before I could blink. “Even this one. A bullet, a bomb. The sang 'solut are not indestructible.”

“Not when you give us time to fight back.”

She eyes my wand, then lowered the gun. “That has been our big mistake.”

I was about to retort -- with something witty, I'm sure -- when the ground under me began to tremble.

For the first time since I'd been with her, something like panic came into Levin's face. “I hate trolls. I hate trolls.”

“They're coming this way.”

“I thought we would miss them,” her voice broke for a moment, but she regained it. “I took this path so they would miss us.”

But we weren't meant to miss them. Although we ran as fast as we could up the trail, we could still sense them following us through the woods.

When the first one, a gigantic male in a tiny loincloth, stumbled across the path, Levin screamed, immediately drawing the thing's attention to our immediate position.

He looked her over, as if unsure of what she was or what to do with her. Levin didn't move -- if she wasn't crying before, she was then.

Trolls, like toddlers, understand their world through what they can and cannot eat. The male troll's course of action was obvious. When he couldn't figure out what Levin was, he picked her up by her backpack and dangled her over his mouth. Levin was paralyzed in his hand, stiff as a corpse.

I realized I had to do something. Whether or not I actually liked Levin had nothing to with my duty as a wizard.

I did not use my wand, but strode up to the troll and shouted, “Ho! Stop!” Something told me not to use magic. Something inside me said Speak, Simon, and he will obey.

He did. The brute lowered Levin to his hip and stared, wrinkling up his forehead as he squinted at me. “Ea Cazi! Tu duci! Voi Duceti! You go! You drop her!”

This was the extent of my off-the-cuff language learning, but trolls are notoriously stupid and he probably wouldn't have understood much more than that.

No matter. He did as I bid, taking with him two female trolls, who watched us mystified from a ways off.

I gave Levin a moment alone so she might collect herself before I knelt beside her. She was not quite together by that time, as she met my eyes willingly and whispered, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I owed you anyway. Are you alright?”

“I hate trolls.” She wiped at her face so I wouldn't see the tear tracks in the dirt.

“I noticed. Nasty things, trolls.”

“That big one -- heard you. He obeyed you. What magic was that?”

“Nici'magie,” I held out my hand to help her up. She took it, scrutinizing me.

“No magic? But how --“

“I don't know. I only knew I should speak and it would be done.”

She nodded, as if that made perfect sense to her. “You are powerful, verita mic. When you need to be.”

We met no more trolls, although the stench lingered into the evening. We made camp as soon as we were no longer able to smell them.

It was a quiet supper, Levin and I preferring the company of our own thoughts over conversation. Again I felt the strength in me, but this time, it was slightly different. It was Charles' power over dragons; it was a don. I could have that controlled that troll, made him do whatever I wanted -- eat Levin if it pleasured me. Or save her, as I did.

Trolls, vampires, werewolves. When I return to England, I will become the best Defenses teacher Hogwarts has seen in a century. I will teach these children true evil and mere darkness. I will face their fears and bring them light. I will give them power.

Q

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