Spellbound → Hermione Granger [1] ✔

I 15 I Encounters

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A man stood, his posture tall and his features hard, the complete opposite to the usual quivering, fearful look Alexander saw around the castle. This can't be true. There was no way. But no matter how much he wanted to deny, the man with the purple turban and cold eyes was not a figment of his scared imagination; he was there and he was solid. Alexander was frozen, mouth parted and eyeballs bulging. Thankfully, no one heard his hushed steps enter as Quirrell was too focused on Harry to spot him.

'You!' gasped Harry, stunned into disbelief.

Quirrell smiled. A small shiver crept up Alexander's spine, yet he held it at bay. Quirrell's smile was hollow and promised something ominous, which he hoped they would never find out. His face wasn't twitching at all. 'Me,' he stated calmly.

The weight of his wand gripped tightly around his fingers offered Alexander a little courage. He had to do something and quickly before Quirrell harmed Harry. He may not cause any permanent damage but perhaps he could stall Quirrell before he got the chance to hurt Harry, at least until Dumbledore arrived. Heart leaping up to his throat, Alexander wielded his wand and yelled, voice steadier than he expected it to be, 'Flipendo.' He heard Harry shout his name in alarm in the background. A vibrant blue light radiated and streaked towards Quirrell, but before the spell could strike the target, the Professor was swift to react: he blocked the light and spun his head to stare straight back at Alexander with his vacant, dark spheres. Alexander cursed softly, gritting his teeth.

'Laurent!' bellowed Quirrell, face twisted into a nasty look. 'I should have known you'd also be here. Trying to use the spell I taught you against me, are you?'

Quirrell threw an unfamiliar golden light at Alexander, which the latter was keen to dodge, unwilling to know of its effect. His blood was on fire, and he was disconnected from everything but the ever-present sound of his drumming heart.

The next spell he was not so lucky to evade, however. Quirrell smirked cruelly and snapped his fingers. Ropes appeared out of thin air and speedily swathed around his body before he could move his limbs. The ropes were painfully clamped across his chest, pressing down and making it harder to inhale. Quirrell guided his hand and Alexander felt an invisible force pushing him to his knees. It seemed as if the ropes were alive, having a mind of their own.

'Let him go!' shouted Harry furiously, ready to rush towards Alexander until Quirrell pointed his forefinger.

'Move, Potter, and your friend will get worse – it's up to you.'

Harry threw a hopeless look of desperation at Alexander, who gestured with a shake of his head to not move. Quirrell could harm Harry and that was the last thing he wanted. Keep stalling. Keep stalling. Dumbledore will be here soon. Quirrell threw another spell at him, one that felt as if a giant fist had slammed into his chest and he found it hard to breathe for a second. He gasped for air, chest expanding. Quirrell still kept his composure as Harry glared at him with hate-filled eyes.