Dawn Breaking
folder
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Quirrell/Tonks
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
4,448
Reviews:
29
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › Het - Male/Female › Quirrell/Tonks
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
10
Views:
4,448
Reviews:
29
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter 1 – Awakenings
Chapter 1 – Awakenings
Ian Quirrell opened his eyes slowly to see the familiar face of Poppy Pomfrey bent over him. He must be in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts but he had no clue as to how he had gotten here. His last memory was of traveling through a very interesting forest in Albania, following rumors of a dark creature that was lurking there. Then…nothing; he could remember nothing after that.
“Morning Ian, how are we feeling today?”
“Quite perplexed, Poppy.”
“I am sure that you are, dear. You must have so many questions! I will go tell Albus that you are awake.” Dear Poppy, so very competent as a Medi-witch, so very scattered the rest of the time. He sighed and prepared himself to wait for his answers.
A gangly young woman peered through the doorway at that moment. She was medium height with delicate curves and a turned-up noHer Her bright blue eyes and fuschia hair were quite startling, but she gave him a huge grin when she saw him.
“Wotcher, you!” She called cheerfully. “Madame Pomfrey about?” Ian couldn’t help himself -- he smiled in response. There was something so bright and alive about the girl as she bounced into the room.
“She went to fetch the Headmaster.” He replied.
“Oh well, that’ll take some doing. He is stretched out under the punch table having a bit of a lie down.” She ged aed again and added a wink for good measure. Ian was taken aback. Albus was drunk? Albus never drank.
“What? Impossible!”
“Well, it’s not everyday you get to watch Voldemort die again, though it IS his second dark wizard and his third celebration, so you would think that the novelty would have worn off by now.” Ian was staring at her in shock. Had Voldemort come back? Had Voldemort just died…again? How long had he been unconscious?
“What year is it?” He whispered.
“1998, of course. What, you hit your head or something?” The girl leaned forward to peer at him more closely, lost her balance and fell on her derriere with a thump.
“Are you alright?” Ian leapt from the bed and stood trembling with weakness. He reached out a hand to the girl to help her up.
“I’m alright, just a bit clumsy. Don’t know how I graduated Auror training.” She pushed the fuschia hair out of her eyes and grinned again.
“1998?” The answer finally registered and Ian sat down hard on the cot.
“Are YOU alright, may be the question, mate.” She cocked her head and gave him a funny look.
“I’m Ian Quirrell, by the way.” He remembered the manners his mother had drummed into him at an early age.
“Professor Quirrell?” She asked startled.
“Yes, I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts here.” He flashed her a weak smile. “Or I did, in ‘91.” That was the last year he had clear memories of.
“You died, you did. It was in the Prophet.” The girl said quite solemnly and Ian looked at her with dawning horror. “I’m Tonks.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it automatically, trying to process the information that he had been dead.
“I don’t remember dying.”
“Probably a good thing. Bound to be unpleasant.” She replied decisively and then sank down rather awkwardly to sit beside him on the bed. “Dumbledore said you were in Albania or somewhere for a year’s sabbatical and got possessed by you-know-who.” The last she said in a confidential undertone, giving him the impression that it wasn’t generally known.
ghtnghtn’t I remember getting possessed and dying?” He asked somewhat querulously, feeling as though the conversation was one big surreal joke and he was the only one without the punch line.
“No reason why you would, Professor. I mean, stands to reason, don’t it? You were possessed, after all. You weren’t yourself, so why would you remember what you didn’t do?” Ian was trying with some difficulty to work out the logic behind this statement when Poppy returned with the Headmaster.
“Ah, Quirrell. I see you have met Miss Tonks.” Albus said with that cheerful air that told the listener that he was quite buggered. “I trust she has been filling you in on the last seven years?”
“Well, I got rather stuck on the having died bit, actually.” Ian muttered.
“Yes, rather takes one aback, doesn’t it?” The Headmaster was smiling genially in the way that always made Ian want to box his ears.
“Well, you were freed from your possession when Harry Potter destroyed Voldemort for the final time and now you are back. Not a moment too soon, either, because our DADA teacher turned out to be a Death Eater and died just yesterday.” Albus twinkled at him and wandered off to check the other beds.
Ian looked about and noticed finally that he wasn’t the only patient. There weren’t as many injured as he would have thought after a major battle.
“Most of the wounded went to St. Mungo’s, Professor. We only have the overflow here.” Tonks whispered to him.
He was still feeling quite wobbly but he realized that he was hungry. His stomach growled loudly and he flushed as Tonks flashed him a cheeky smile.
“I guess I better see to it you get some food, Professor! Hate to have ya dying all over again.” Her cheerfulness should have been annoying, but attached as it was to a rather attractive young lady, he decided to find it charming instead. Besides, if she got him fed, she could be as cheerful as she liked.
Ian Quirrell opened his eyes slowly to see the familiar face of Poppy Pomfrey bent over him. He must be in the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts but he had no clue as to how he had gotten here. His last memory was of traveling through a very interesting forest in Albania, following rumors of a dark creature that was lurking there. Then…nothing; he could remember nothing after that.
“Morning Ian, how are we feeling today?”
“Quite perplexed, Poppy.”
“I am sure that you are, dear. You must have so many questions! I will go tell Albus that you are awake.” Dear Poppy, so very competent as a Medi-witch, so very scattered the rest of the time. He sighed and prepared himself to wait for his answers.
A gangly young woman peered through the doorway at that moment. She was medium height with delicate curves and a turned-up noHer Her bright blue eyes and fuschia hair were quite startling, but she gave him a huge grin when she saw him.
“Wotcher, you!” She called cheerfully. “Madame Pomfrey about?” Ian couldn’t help himself -- he smiled in response. There was something so bright and alive about the girl as she bounced into the room.
“She went to fetch the Headmaster.” He replied.
“Oh well, that’ll take some doing. He is stretched out under the punch table having a bit of a lie down.” She ged aed again and added a wink for good measure. Ian was taken aback. Albus was drunk? Albus never drank.
“What? Impossible!”
“Well, it’s not everyday you get to watch Voldemort die again, though it IS his second dark wizard and his third celebration, so you would think that the novelty would have worn off by now.” Ian was staring at her in shock. Had Voldemort come back? Had Voldemort just died…again? How long had he been unconscious?
“What year is it?” He whispered.
“1998, of course. What, you hit your head or something?” The girl leaned forward to peer at him more closely, lost her balance and fell on her derriere with a thump.
“Are you alright?” Ian leapt from the bed and stood trembling with weakness. He reached out a hand to the girl to help her up.
“I’m alright, just a bit clumsy. Don’t know how I graduated Auror training.” She pushed the fuschia hair out of her eyes and grinned again.
“1998?” The answer finally registered and Ian sat down hard on the cot.
“Are YOU alright, may be the question, mate.” She cocked her head and gave him a funny look.
“I’m Ian Quirrell, by the way.” He remembered the manners his mother had drummed into him at an early age.
“Professor Quirrell?” She asked startled.
“Yes, I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts here.” He flashed her a weak smile. “Or I did, in ‘91.” That was the last year he had clear memories of.
“You died, you did. It was in the Prophet.” The girl said quite solemnly and Ian looked at her with dawning horror. “I’m Tonks.” She stuck out her hand and he shook it automatically, trying to process the information that he had been dead.
“I don’t remember dying.”
“Probably a good thing. Bound to be unpleasant.” She replied decisively and then sank down rather awkwardly to sit beside him on the bed. “Dumbledore said you were in Albania or somewhere for a year’s sabbatical and got possessed by you-know-who.” The last she said in a confidential undertone, giving him the impression that it wasn’t generally known.
ghtnghtn’t I remember getting possessed and dying?” He asked somewhat querulously, feeling as though the conversation was one big surreal joke and he was the only one without the punch line.
“No reason why you would, Professor. I mean, stands to reason, don’t it? You were possessed, after all. You weren’t yourself, so why would you remember what you didn’t do?” Ian was trying with some difficulty to work out the logic behind this statement when Poppy returned with the Headmaster.
“Ah, Quirrell. I see you have met Miss Tonks.” Albus said with that cheerful air that told the listener that he was quite buggered. “I trust she has been filling you in on the last seven years?”
“Well, I got rather stuck on the having died bit, actually.” Ian muttered.
“Yes, rather takes one aback, doesn’t it?” The Headmaster was smiling genially in the way that always made Ian want to box his ears.
“Well, you were freed from your possession when Harry Potter destroyed Voldemort for the final time and now you are back. Not a moment too soon, either, because our DADA teacher turned out to be a Death Eater and died just yesterday.” Albus twinkled at him and wandered off to check the other beds.
Ian looked about and noticed finally that he wasn’t the only patient. There weren’t as many injured as he would have thought after a major battle.
“Most of the wounded went to St. Mungo’s, Professor. We only have the overflow here.” Tonks whispered to him.
He was still feeling quite wobbly but he realized that he was hungry. His stomach growled loudly and he flushed as Tonks flashed him a cheeky smile.
“I guess I better see to it you get some food, Professor! Hate to have ya dying all over again.” Her cheerfulness should have been annoying, but attached as it was to a rather attractive young lady, he decided to find it charming instead. Besides, if she got him fed, she could be as cheerful as she liked.