Quirinus Quirrell was out of time.

The Headmaster had tasked him with procuring a Mountain Troll for a project he was working on this term. He had not said what, exactly, the project was - this was Dumbledore, after all - but he did say that the beast would be expected to defend a corridor. Should have been simple, really.

What complicated matters was the unseasonably hot weather in the Alps, where the most populous tribes were to be found. This pushed the bulk of the troll population further into the mountains - far further than Quirrell was willing to trek, at least.

And lest he forget, his master had tasks for him as well.

It was luck that led him to the wetlands in the south of Switzerland. In the face of his master's rather insistent urging to just get on with it, already, Quirrell had decided to see if there were any forest trolls in the area. They would be smaller than the mountain variety, of course, and harder to control. But at this point, he'd take anything.

When he saw the crude signs warning visitors away from a particularly swampy stretch of wood, Quirrell knew he had found something interesting. The angry sneer on the green painted face certainly looked like a mountain troll. Perhaps he had gotten lucky?

It should be noted here that Quirrell taught Defense Against the Dark Arts, not Care of Magical Creatures. His master, while skilled in many areas of magic, cared little for the rarer creatures, preferring to study the deadlier magical beasts. Neither really understood how rare it was for a troll to carry on a conversation in a civilized manner.

It would prove to be a costly mistake.

The hut was ramshackle, of that there was no question. And the smell…. Merlin. But Quirrell bravely walked up to the door and knocked. He sensed no wards, no defenses, just the creature.

"Go away!" came a shout from inside the hut.

Try again, whispered his master. Quirrell, compelled by the spirit of the Dark Lord, tried again.

"I said, Go Away!" came the angrier reply. Quirrell pounded on the door for a third time, not even waiting for his master's urging.

"Donkey, I swear, if it's you out there…. Ach." The door swung open, revealing the largest troll Quirrell or his master had ever seen. "What do ye want?" the creature asked, its inexplicable Scottish accent thickening with the beast's anger.

Unbidden, Quirrell's stammer returned. "W-we, er, I n-n-need to… job… school…"

The troll rolled its eyes. "Slow down, mate. I don't need your bloody school, I don't need a bloody job, and I don't bloody need you lollygaggin' about in MY BLOODY SWAMP! So turn yourself about and git!"

"I can make it w-w-worth your time." replied Quirrell. The fact that the troll had not yet slammed the door was a positive sign, he thought. That didn't stop him from holding his wand at the ready, though he did not yet aim it at the creature.

"Look, unless you can keep people out of my swamp, you got nothin' I want, lad." The troll leaned forward, bringing its sickly green face to Quirrell's level. Its breath was truly foul, and the fact that it had teeth at all was remarkable, what with the filth covering them. "Move. Along." it said, coldly.

Wards! Hissed the Dark Lord.

"I...I...er, I can keep people out of your sw...sw..swamp." He lifted his wand, showing the creature. One of its eyebrows raised.

"Oh, magic, are ye?" it said, more to itself. "Right, well then, you keep people out of me swamp, and I'll do a quick job for your school, was it? Sure, that."

Not waiting for the creature to change its mind, Quirrell began summoning stones from their surroundings. Surely a few could work as Ward stones. "D...d..done."

oOoOoOoOo

The creature stared at the parchment. Quirrell did not remember a troll insisting on a written agreement before, nor had he planned on offering one. But the creature had been insistent - apparently, he had been poorly treated by the local magical enclave in years past, and distrusted verbal agreements. At the Dark Lord's urging, and only as a means to get this done and over with, Quirrell had quickly written out what had been agreed upon.

"So, when you summon me, I go and wreck a few classrooms, and then I guard a hallway for a few weeks?"

"Y...y..yes."

The creature nodded. "Right. And you make sure that your… wards, were they? You make sure that they work to keep everyone out I want out, yeah?" Quirrell agreed. "Fine, give it here."

Quirrell handed over a black quill, and the creature hastily scrawled its name. Looking at the parchment, Quirrell could not make out what it actually said - and realized, with a start, that he did not know the creature's name. Why do you care, it will die, whispered Voldemort.

The creature looked at its hand, where its name had been scratched by the blood quill. Even as he watched, the marks faded from its green skin. "Oi, what was that?"

"J-just a blood quill, um, sir. To make it official." stammered Quirrell.

That got him an annoyed look from the creature. "Right, then you sign too." The black quill was thrust back at the professor, who had no choice but to take it. Angering the creature would be unwise, as the thing could probably swallow him in one gulp.

With a shaking hand, Quirrell signed his name to the parchment. Then he, too, watched as the marks faded. With a sigh, he rolled up the agreement and put it back into his pack. He proceeded to remove a letter opener, which he set on the table.

"When we are r-r-ready for you, this will glow. Hold onto it and say 'Hogwarts', and it will take you to a hallway in the castle." Quirrell could not look the thing in its face, and continued to keep his eyes down at the table. "Destroy whichever classrooms you like, and then say 'Corridor'. You'll be frozen in place until someone approaches."

The creature nodded. "And if anyone tries to stop me?"

Quirrell smiled. "The idea is to keep people out. Something you're quite good at, I think."

That got him a look from the creature, its expression unreadable. Quirrell did not see the look of disbelief on the thing's face. "Right."

oOoOoOoOo

Hermione looked at herself in the bathroom mirror, and then sighed. She couldn't hide in the loo forever, she knew. Lifting her bag onto her shoulder, she shook her head at her reflection. An afternoon spent crying seemed to have been just what she needed. Of course, that didn't do anything about why she had been crying in the first place.

Another sigh. "Boys," she muttered.

Turning to leave, she heard a deep thumping sound. She stopped in her tracks, trying to figure out what was making that noise… and why it seemed to be getting closer.

"Rawrrrr…" she heard a voice growl in the hallway. "Rawrrrrr….." Who would be making that noise, and why were they making an animal noise? A bad one, with a Scottish accent for some reason?

Hermione soon had her answers, for at that moment the bathroom door crashed to the floor.

Standing in the doorway was a fearsome green creature, almost eight feet in height, with burlap rags for clothes. It uttered another almost half-hearted "Rawrrrr", and the wave of stink from its breath almost floored her. She grunted in disgust, backing away from the creature.

Unfortunately, the movement drew its attention. Stepping further into the bathroom, the creature took a good look at its prey, before straightening up. To Hermione's shock, the thing's face took on an expression of annoyance.

"Oi," it grumbled. "What's a titch like yoo doin' in mah quest?"

Hermione blinked at the creature. "What?"

"Ah said," repeated the creature, slowly as if to a child, "What are you doin' gettin' in mah way? I'm s'posed to be wrecking this hall, and you're here messin' up me rhythm."

"Your rhythm? Your RHYTHM? This is a school! Someone could have been hurt!" Hermione's shock at the utter irresponsibility of such a notion seemed to override her fear of the creature. Then she processed what it had said. "Wait, why would you be wrecking the hallway?"

The creature shrugged. "A job's a job, lass."

Before she could ask any of the dozen questions that came to her, she heard footsteps coming from the hallway. As she and the creature watched, two gryffindors ran past. It had looked like Harry Potter and Ron Weasley, but she had not gotten a good look.

Neither had they, for they kept running down the hallway. The creature looked back at her and hitched a thumb at the door. "What sort of school is this, exactly?"

Hermione still wasn't sure what exactly was going on, nor why Harry and Ron had run past. "A magic one," she answered.

"Huh," was the response.

"Hermione!" shouted Harry, as his head appeared in the doorway to the bathroom. "There's a troll loose in the school!"

"Is there, Harry?" asked Hermione, her voice dripping with annoyance. "All sorts of things running around the halls tonight, aren't there?"

"What?" asked Harry, confused, as he stepped into the bathroom. "No, Hermione, you don't understand, there's - WHOA!" He had walked far enough to see the creature, and now his wand came out. "Hermione, it's the troll!"

"Oi!" shouted the creature. "I'm not a bloody troll, you mangy git, haven't ye ever seen a bloody ogre?"

"Merlin!" shouted Harry. "It can talk!"

"HE can hear you too, you daft twit!" roared the ogre. "And HE has a bloody name, if anyone cared enough to bloody well use it!"

Hermione looked from Harry to the troll…. No, the ogre, and wasn't that a bizarre correction to make, she thought. "What is your name then, Mister Ogre Sir?"

The ogre turned and grinned at Hermione. "Oh, aye, Mister Ogre Sir, I like that." He gave a mock bow. "Shrek, at your service."

"Hermione!" Ron's voice came from the doorway as he ran into the bathroom, gasping for breath. The boys were getting desperate now - whatever had frightened Quirrell, this had to be it, right? Before Harry could say anything, Ron saw the ogre. "He's going to hurt you! Run!"

"I'mma not gonna hurt anyone, lad." said Shrek, his own voice calm and even. "Ah wasn't paid to be hurting kids."

Harry's wand lowered. "What do you mean, paid?"

The ogre shrugged. "A man put these magic shields up at me swamp, so people leave me alone. In return, I said I'd come fake an attack, and then guard a room. Easy work, if ye can get it."

"And they told you to wreck the castle?" asked Hermione.

"Nah, of course not. Wrecking the castle, don't be daft," replied Shrek. "The man said to just wreck this hallway."

Harry and Hermione looked at each other. "Who would do that?" asked Harry.

"Oh, oh my goodness!" The four turned to see Professor McGonagall standing in the broken doorway, eyes fixed on Shrek. "The troll!"

"Oh, for the love of… I'm not a bloody troll!" Shrek yelled at the witch, who took a step back at the outburst. "I'm a bloody ogre!"

The professor blinked, as more footsteps could be heard in the hallway. "If you're not a troll, then what, pray tell, are you doing here?"

Shrek let out an annoyed grunt. "Ah'm beginnin' to wonder that meself." He looked past the witch, to see two more professors walking into the bathroom. The greasy black-haired one, he ignored, and he almost disregarded the other as well. But then he saw his face...

"You!" Shrek stepped toward Professor Quirrell, who was now cringing. "What's all this, then?"

Snape looked from his turban-clad colleague to the 'troll', before raising an eyebrow. "Quirinus, you know this ogre?"

"There!" shouted Shrek, excitedly. "See, this man gets it! Thank you!"

McGonagall started to get the impression that there were more layers to this than met the eye. She, too, turned to the Defense professor. "Quirinus, please explain." Quirrell, for his part, cringed even more. Hermione saw the professor inching toward the door, though the others seemed to miss it.

Shrek was angry, now. "Ye come into mah swamp and drag me to this castle in the middle of bleeding nowhere, and tell me to break things, only to find that there are kids here? You hired me to hurt kids?"

McGonagall finally lost her composure. Rounding on the Defense Professor, she took out her wand. "You did WHAT?"

Harry and Hermione watched as Shrek took one thunderous step after another, closing the distance between himself and the cowering professor. They saw McGonagall look at Snape, who shook his head. Then the two professors stepped back, out of the angry ogre's path. Quirrell backed up into a corner, letting out a yelp as he felt the wall behind him. In a panic, he grabbed a nearby torch and waved it at Shrek.

"S-s-stay back, now! I mean it!" shouted Quirrell. Shrek leaned forward, licking his fingers. With a delicate motion, he pinched the end of the torch, extinguishing the flame. Quirrell looked from the torch to the ogre and back, paralyzed in fear.

Shrek gave him a sneer. "This is the part where you run away."

Quirinus Quirrell did not run away. Quirinus Quirrell passed out cold - for real, this time - falling to the bathroom floor in a heap. McGonagall rushed forward to check on him, followed closely by Snape, who seemed to be giving the ogre a wide berth.

Shrek turned to see the three students staring at him, open mouthed.

oOoOoOoOo

Albus Dumbledore had spent the day preparing himself for the tenth anniversary of the fall of Voldemort. He had known that the anniversary would be bittersweet, especially for those who had lost a loved one in the war, and most especially for Harry Potter, for whom the date would always hold bittersweet memories.

Never, in his wildest dreams, did he expect to celebrate the defeat of Voldemort with… the defeat of Voldemort.

He had heard the shriek from his Deputy Headmistress from down the hallway, and picked up his pace as a result. The scene he found in the girl's bathroom would etch itself into his memory.

There, laying at the feet of a massive green ogre, was his new Defense professor - with the face of Voldemort coming out of the back of his head. "Ah, Tom, so this is how you planned it, eh?" the Headmaster said, as he wove spells around the professor. A stunner, just to be safe, along with bindings to secure him. Later, he would ensure that the professor - and his master - remained unconscious and in stasis, so that the spirit of Voldemort could not escape.

The unspeakables would help, surely. They would have ways to keep the wraith from breaking free of the professor, until the magic that tied it to life could be dealt with.

It was not until the students had been dismissed (each waving farewell to the ogre) and Professor Quirrell had been removed by Snape and Madam Pomfrey that Dumbledore managed to approach the ogre. "I am told we have you to thank for this evening's events, Mister…?"

Shrek raised an eyebrow at the oldest wizard he had seen yet. "Um, Shrek," he replied.

"Yes, well, Mister Shrek, thank you for your assistance this evening. If you don't mind me asking, how did you come to be here?" The Headmaster kept a smile on his face, doing his best to be disarming.

Shrek explained how Quirrell had approached his home, offering to ward it against intruders if he would consent to attacking the castle. From Shrek's description, Quirrell had given him a portkey and a means to trigger it. When Shrek mentioned the agreement he had signed, Dumbledore got another shock.

"So, when you signed the parchment, you used a black quill?" asked the Headmaster.

"Oh, aye. Marked me hand up proper, it did."

Dumbledore's eyes went to the spot where Quirrell had fallen. "And you say that Quirrell signed as well?"

Shrek chuckled. "Not much of a bloody agreement if I don't make him sign it, now is it?"

The Headmaster nodded, absently. "No, I imagine not. Tell me, sir," he asked, turning back to the ogre. "When were you born?"

Shrek leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "Why?"

Dumbledore fought the urge to use the Bubble-head charm, such was the striking power of the ogre's breath. "Please, indulge an old man's curiosity."

That got an eye roll from the ogre. "End of July."

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself grin. He knew nothing of the ogre's parents, nothing of his history. He still didn't know where to point the return portkey, to get Shrek back home.

But what he did know was remarkable. Marked as his equal, by a blood quill. Born as the seventh month dies. And he was, himself, a power that the Dark Lord knew not, for the Dark Lord didn't even realize that he had not found a troll, but an ogre.

The Headmaster's silence was too much for Shrek, who huffed with annoyance. "Well?"

Dumbledore looked up into the ogre's light brown eyes, and then smiled to himself. Close enough.

"Nothing, Mister Shrek. Let's get you home." He thought a moment, realizing how late the hour was. "May I offer you dinner, before you go? I understand this has been quite the inconvenience."

The ogre shrugged. "If you like. As long as you lot leave me alone after this, I don'na care."

"Not at all, it's the least we can do. Tipsy!" With a soft pop, a house elf appeared, its back to the bathroom. Turning around, the elf began speaking.

"How can Tipsy be helping the headma….. Oh! The Troll!"

Shrek put a hand on his forehead. Then he began cursing. Later, it took Dumbledore a month to get the elves to stop repeating the words they learned from the ogre that night.

A/N: This is what I get for checking Discord on a Friday night. The prompt came from ShinyKamon and LeadVonE (who also gave us Shrek's first line to Hermione), while Dragon-bait-2001 provided the title. Of course, now I will be humming "I'm a believer" all bloody weekend, so thanks guys.

LeadVonE is the author of the excellent Dodging Prison and Stealing Witches, found here and on Ao3. Your tastes may differ from mine, but 13k+ Favorites can't be wrong. He also hosts the Discord server where this mess started, at /LeadVonE.

Dragon-bait-2001 is the author of Saving them all, one at a time, here on ffn - another story that's absolutely worth your time, though it does not (yet) have as many favorites as DP&SW.

My apologies to any Scottish readers - I tried to stay true to Shrek's accent, and hopefully got the gist of it without being horribly offensive.

Feedback, as always, is welcome.