Quirinius Quirrell and the Muggle Psychiatric Ward

Hi guys! I wrote this short story for a contest on a Polish website and I honestly think it's incredibly cringe, but recently I'm really eager to write or translate on my laptop, so I decided to translate this parody/mild horror story for you! Hope you enjoy - or don't, this isn't my problem.

Professor Quirinius Quirrell is one huge weirdo and I think by now everyone who is familiar with the Harry Potter franchise has realised. This mumbling mess with a headscarf reminiscent of a rich Arabian prince, and to make matters worse, Voldemort's face on the back of his head... Just your regular magical business.

However, as wizards, we are familiar with such stuff. It might be quite... repulsive, but not necessarily strange for us. Although for muggles a man constantly mumbling to something that appears to be alive at the back of his head will seem as a literal psycho. And muggles, of course, don't know about any healing charms or potions, so they send their psychos to the psychiatrist.

"Y-y-you have to believe me! The D-dark Lord lives in my body!" shouted Quirrell, sitting on a softly cushioned chair in the psychiatrist's office.

"Sir, you are a male, a person cannot live inside you" the psychiatrist commented. Transphobic. A man can get pregnant too.

"It's n-n-not even what I mean! He's on my... m-m-my head!" insisted the wizard.

"I'm afraid I might have to send you to get treated at the hospital, sir" the tired doctor put his hand to his forehead.

"Noooo!" screamed Quirrell in fear, but the doctor was already typing the advice on his laptop. "I will sh-show you!"

Quirrell began to unfold his purple headscarf only to reveal... well. Quirrell, as a wizard, was immune to charms that concealed all magical stuff from muggles, thus from his point of view, there was Lord Voldemort's face and it wasn't a hallucination.

"Show your pride, Quirinius..." whispered the repulsive noseless face.

"Yes, my lord..." answered Quirrell.

The psychiatrist though, was a muggle affected by the concealing charms and all it looked like to him was a bald head.

"Mister Quirrell, there is nothing there!" snarled the doctor in irritation.

"But there is! Can't you see?"

"There's not!"

"There is!"

"There's not!"

"There is!"

"There's not!"

"AHHH!" shouted the enraged wizard while attempting to run away, but he suddenly felt the squeeze of the doctor's hand on his wrist, and before he could say "Voldy has no nose" he found himself in the ambulance that was meant to drive him to a nightmare muggle psychiatry ward.

***

Quirrell was under the influence of strong sedatives so the rest of the day he was asleep most of the time. He couldn't recall his admission nor the ambulance ride, maybe except a few flashes.

He opened his eyes. He instinctively wanted to rub them, but when he tried to raise his arm he felt pulling. His eyes were still unused to the bright light of the hospital, but he managed to notice that he was tied to the bed.

"D-d-diffindo!" he began to mumble, but it couldn't help him - his wand was nowhere to be seen and the medicine seemed to have reduced his magical capabilities. And the restraints wouldn't let him go. He pulled harder, but all he felt was a sharp pain in his wrist. Therefore he did the only thing he had left at this point: he started screaming so loud it could wake the whole department up. Quirrell noticed the patients' heads peeking through the tiny isolation room window with curiosity. Despite the obvious fact that in hospitals like this one the patients' screams are not that rare, the bored patients always like to check everything anyway.

An ugly fat nurse with the face of a gruesome witch, angrier than professor Snape after spotting a Gryffindor approaching him with a bottle of shampoo and calling him "Snivellus Snape" ran up to the door.

"What's up with you all?! In your rooms, right now!" snarled the nurse as she opened Quirrell's isolation room door. "I'm only asking one thing: shut your restless mouth up!"

Quirrell could only look at the woman with curiosity, as he started screaming again - louder than Dolores Umbridge when someone shattered her pink cat mug. He ended up getting a slap to the face (the front one, obviously).

"Move this heavy head of yours, I'm uncomfortable!" accompanied Voldemort as Quirrell desperately tried to turn his head not to suffocate Voldemort (although how was he supposed to suffocate if he had no nose?).

Quirrell instinctively coughed after the slap to his cheek.

"You will sit here in silence. I'll untie you, but I'll also close the isolation room and don't you dare even think of escaping!" threatened the nurse, so Quirrell nodded in fear. By the way, he didn't have his headscarf on. After all, it was made from a long stripe of material, which was not allowed inside a mental hospital since patients could try to suffocate themselves with such long pieces. And of course, the muggles could not see Voldy's face.

The nurse carefully untied the restraints strangling Quirrell's body. She put a straitjacket on him though, and when she was done she walked to the social room for a coffee after locking the isolation room door.

Quirrell was now left all alone in the room. He sat down on the cold floor only to discover that the horrible straitjacket isn't designed thoughtfully enough to fully cover the buttocks. He cringed and stood up. He began walking around the isolation room, looking around. It was an isolation room after all, though. And there is nothing interesting inside an isolation room. He tried to jump to view a tiny window at the top of the wall but it was a little bit too high up. Alohomora was out of the question as well - there was no wand and his magic was numbed with the medicine.

Unfortunately, this was just the beginning of the horrors he'd have to experience.

Voldemort decided to announce his presence and feel the side effects of the sedatives. And if nothing could have been worse, he vomited. Quirrell struggled to lean in a way that would make the sick hit the floor rather than his robe... or straitjacket.

Despite lacking a nose, Voldemort felt the beautiful smell and urged Quirrell to do something about it.

"Alright, m-m-my lord... A nurse will surely come in a second and clean this mess."

However, that's where another problem showed up - since the vomit was expelled by Voldemort, the nurses weren't able to see it. After half an hour of the agonising wait inside a stinking room, Quirrell, bored, began to run all around the isolation room and scream.

"AAAAAAAAAA!" he yelled. "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"

Of course just a moment later the same fat nurse as before went inside the room and hit him in the head with a baseball bat. No one will fire her, since in the YouTube animation titled Mental nobody fired the violent nurse that I totally didn't base our character on.

 Quirrell passed out, but he was woken up for breakfast the next day. Mmm, carrots.

As usual he motioned his bony fingers to a mini carrot like in the kids' McDonald's set and put it straight into Voldemort's mouth, who spat it right onto the table behind them.

"Ew! What is this healthy crap?! It will not help the Dark Lord in any way!"

You're probably wondering how this scene appeared to the muggles. Well, all the muggles could see was Quirrell turning around and spitting straight into another patient's plate.

The patient, a bald skinhead with only tiny specks of ingrowns turned his muscular body taken straight out of prison cartoon episodes and stood up, clenching his comically tiny handies.

"Did you just spit on me?" he spoke with his bassy voice.

"N-n-no! I-i-it was the Dark L-lord!" mumbled Quirrell.

Obviously, the muggle surely wouldn't believe those words, so he just burst out laughing.

"The Dark Lord? And who is that supposed to be, skank? This one?" the jock landed his eyes on a quiet dark-skinned man, sending him a rude stare, of course meaning he was racist. How else am I supposed to show a stereotypical hooligan in a story about prison, a.k.a. a mental ward? Yes, this is the moment where you start hating Mr Skinhead more than the transphobic psychiatrist.

The nurses were having coffee, so the Skinhead used their recklessness to his own advantage and started hitting Quirrell. How many times has he already been hit in this tale? Poor Quirrell... But we all know that my writing is a cruel mix of comedy and violence. And it's still better than his canon fate, isn't it?

The patients gathered into two groups in two corners of the canteen. Half of them was hyping the Skinhead up, mainly in fear of getting fu... [the administration decided to censor this unflattering word]. The other half was watching quietly twiddling their thumbs for Quirrell. They were quite fearless indeed, since they ended up getting a beating from the Skinhead as well.

Of course the story ended how you would expect it to - Quirrell and the Skinhead kissed. Huh, how could my parody exist without a tiny bit of old men yaoi? Pff, you should be glad that I didn't add actual male pregnancy here other than the psychiatrist's unfunny allusions.

Voldy also wanted to kiss the Skinhead, but well... he didn't even know about his very existence... I know, utterly heartbreaking.

If you read it all, congratulations! Your brain is rotten, just like mine. You just survived a wave of nightmarish cringe by reading a story that won't get first, second, third, nor even second-to-last place in the contest, but who cares, it's supposed to be silly, you're on my profile, what were you expecting... Something that wouldn't be gross, idiotic and pathetic? Yeah, keep dreaming.

If somehow I've made someone's day better (though I'd assume I've probably made it worse), I'm really glad and I hope you dream of washing Snape's hair tonight. And if not, I hope your pillow is hot, err, I mean cold.

This is so short, well, my problem.