An Effort in Futility

Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, (Oct. 25 th )...

Harry made a slashing motion across his body as he mumbled the counter curse to the hair loss hex Quirrell was about to send at him. The spell had just formed on the tip of Quirrell's wand when Harry's counter caused it to fizzle and disappear before it could be sent.

"Locomotor Mortis," Harry snapped.

Quirrell batted the spell away with practiced ease.

A nonverbal stunning spell from Quirrell sent Harry diving to the floor. He still hadn't mastered the counter-curse to stop the stunning spell, and he wasn't able to generate the Protego shield that would let him block it.

"Petrificus Totalus," Harry said from the floor, sending the spell at Quirrell's legs.

A silver shield popped into existence around Quirrell, and Harry growled in frustration. While Harry now knew a few decent offensive spells, he had yet to even make his instructor move an inch. The man was simply standing at the front of the room with a gigantic smirk on his face.

Before Quirrell could send another spell, Harry sent a ball of blue fire at Quirrell's robes. A casual flick from the professor's wand caused the flame to freeze before it even came close to approaching him. Harry recognized the effects of the freezing charm as the now frozen ball of fire fell to the ground and cracked into several pieces when it hit the floor.

Several large, twisting ropes flew out of Quirrell's wand, but after spending an entire lesson being tied up by the Incarcerus spell, Harry had made it a point to learn how to easily counter it. With a swish and flick of his wand, Harry levitated a nearby chair into the path of the ropes, causing them to harmlessly surround the chair. Harry then jabbed his wand at the chair and attempted to Banish it toward Quirrell.

The banishing charm, unfortunately, was slightly beyond Harry's capabilities. Instead of flying at Quirrell, the chair caught fire and fell to the floor. Surprised at the unexpected and colossal failure of his spell, Harry wasn't prepared to dodge a tripping jinx, and he fell to the floor. A moment later, he was Stunned.

A quick rennervate from Quirrell woke him up, and Harry was again aggravated at the stupid smirk that had yet to leave his professor's face.

"N-n-n-not bad, P-Potter."

Harry couldn't tell because of Quirrell's stutter, but he was fairly sure his teacher was being sarcastic.

"M-m-maybe next time you'll g-g-g-get me to move."

Yep. Quirrell was definitely being sarcastic.

"If that banishing charm worked, you would have had to move to avoid the chair," Harry countered, hoping to prove that his strategy was good, even if he wasn't quite capable of executing it.

Quirrell actually snorted as he twirled his wand and casually Vanished a nearby chair, demonstrating that he would not have been in nearly as much trouble as Harry claimed.

"What would you do if you were me then?" Harry challenged.

The only hint Harry had that Quirrell was about to cast a spell was the slight narrowing of his professor's eyes, followed by the jabbing of his wand. Harry was surprised to see the spell was sent not at him, but rather a few feet in front of him at a fallen desk. The spell struck the desk and blew it to pieces, sending splinters right at Harry, who only narrowly was able to avoid it by diving to his left.

"You could have used an in-indirect attack or d-d-d-damaged the floor below my feet," Quirrell commented as Harry picked himself up off the ground and prepared for yet another beating at the hands of his professor.