He, Ravenclaw's genius, had actually been toyed with by a brat in battle!
Before he could retaliate in humiliation and anger, Hermione shouted again, "Expelliarmus!"
Having learned his lesson once, how could Quirrell possibly pay it any heed? He resolutely brought down his wand, and a beam of red light shot from its tip. But to his astonishment, at the same time, a beam of red light burst from Hermione's wand and came hurtling toward him!
This time, it was real!
Among all offensive spells, the Disarming Charm was the fastest. If one was unprepared, a wizard often would not realize what had happened until after being struck by it.
That was why many Dueling Clubs around the world listed the Disarming Charm as a required spell. On one hand, it was not especially lethal; on the other, it severely tested a wizard's combat instincts and ability to adapt on the fly.
Clearly, Quirrell's adaptability was not very high.
The two red beams met in midair. Identical spells, identical disarming effects—they strangely formed a stalemate. Like lightning, they connected into a crackling arc, while specks of red light scattered like sparks from welding.
Quirrell's eyes widened. Beneath the fierce flashes, his face flickered the same crimson hue. It was impossible to tell whether it came from the light or blood rushing to his head.
He had never expected that a mere little girl could force him into such a deadlock!
The hand gripping his wand trembled with anger and humiliation. The confidence and composure that had been on his face only moments earlier had vanished.
Replaced by a savage expression!
"Dammit!" he roared. Malicious thoughts churned within him alongside surging magic, and the red light grew ever brighter. Then—
"You... truly disappoint me..."
It was a very faint whisper, yet