The Magical Twenty-Six

Before pre-puberty Harry James Potter (through all of his stupidity) managed to make his way to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Quirenius Quirrell was a servant to the Dark Lord. He was most faithful. Sure, he was not that easy on the eyes, but he was as devoted to Lord Voldemort as a Tyrannosaurus Rex is devoted to eating small children.

That's super devoted, in case you did not know.

Anyway, all the Death Eaters knew that Harry Potter would soon attempt to get to Hogwarts, so they tried to make a plan one day while they were feasting on diverse Death dishes, because, well, they're Death Eaters, and they eat Death.

"Well," said Lucius Malfoy, eating a spoonful of Death Soup, "I could always disguise myself as a fellow first year boy, get myself sorted into Gryffindor, and then kill the little bugger while he sleeps!" The blonde man smiled triumphantly, obviously believing that his plan was marvelous, which it wasn't.

"That will never work!" cried Karkaroff. He took a large bite out of his hearty Death Burger. "You are a forty years old and you have a pimp cane! Besides, you would pass off better as a tiny girl."

Peter Pettigrew chuckled, his mouth full of half-chewed Death Pastry.

"SHUT YOUR FACE!" screamed Lucius. He threw his scalding hot bowl of Death Soup at Peter.

Peter screamed like a wimp.

"Did I hear weakness?" asked a snake-like voice.

"No, my Lord," cried Pettigrew quickly, bowing low despite his third-degree burns. His face was red and peeling off.

"Dear God, Pettigrew, you look a sight! That will never do! I'll book you an emergency facial," said Voldemort, pulling out his mobile phone. As many of you know, Lord Voldemort was a flaming metro sexual. He wasn't gay; he just liked to look pretty.

After scheduling a facial for the rat-faced man, Voldemort stood up on a table. "Now everyone, I would like to tell you that I am going to mold myself onto the back of Quirrell here's head."

Quirrell, who was drinking Death Juice from a Death Goblet, sputtered and coughed. This had certainly caught him off guard. He was faithful to his master, but did he really want him living on the back of his head?

He was certainly in a quandary. Should he go along with his master's plan or should he put his foot down?

It would be itchy with another man on your head, besides, there has to be health risks in that. And he wouldn't want to endanger Lord Voldemort's health.

However, Voldemort was a very stubborn man, he always got his way. So, if Quirrell wanted to live, he should probably let the Dark Lord live on his head.

Quirrell chose life over death.

Yes, "death." Not "Death," like the Death Eaters eat, but "death," as in, "Oh golly gee, I'm dead!"

"O-o-o-o-ok-oka-o-o," sputtered Quirrell.

"OUT WITH IT!" yelled Voldemort. He had a pedicure appointment at two and it was already one forty-five.

"I-I-I'll d-do i-i-i-it, M-m-m-master."

Anyway, once Voldemort was plastered onto his head everyone could see that Quirrell needed something to put over his now protruding back-headed Voldemort face.

Quirrell put on a toboggan.

"HOT!" yelled Lord Voldemort, who then began wiggling in a wild manner.

Quirrell took of the toboggan and tried on a fashionable purple turban.

"H-h-how i-i-is t-t-that, M-m-m-master?" asked Quirrell.

"A little stuffy, but at least it is stylish," said the Dark Lord. "Now, let's go find a teaching position at Hogwarts!"

------

"Would you like to remove that totally inconspicuous-in-no-way-could-you-be-a-Death-Eater-and-hiding-Lord-Voldemort-under-there, purple turban?" asked Professor Trelawney, who was conducting the job interview for the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position.

Quirrell knew this woman may be onto him, she was the Divination professor, after all. She could tell the future.

"N-N-No, t-t-t-thank y-you," replied Quirrell, "I-I q-q-quite l-l-l-like i-i-it o-on."

"Very well," replied Trelawney. "The next person to fill this position will be killed in the next five minutes."

"W-w-well, I-I-I..."

"HEY LOOK! IT'S A WEASLEY!" cried Trelawney, who had been gazing out of the tower's window. She picked up a particularly heavy crystal ball and threw it at the red-head, who died on contact. However, seeing as how random deaths are expected and accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, no one really cared about the child she had killed, who just so happened to be Ronald Weasley. Since he hadn't made friends yet, no one noticed that he'd been killed.

"I-I-I-I'll t-t-t-take t-t-the j-j-job," said Quirrell.

And that is how Quirenius Quirrell got a teaching position at Hogwarts, but we know the rest of the story.