Name: Professor *S. Quirrell
Name Origin: Quirrell - most likely a derivative of querulous - given to complaining; whiny, fretful.
Class: Defense Against the Dark Arts
Age: probably mid-20's.
Physical Characteristics: Young, thin, and pale. Wears a purple turban. Extremely nervous and twitchy; speaks with a stutter.

* IMDb.com lists Ian Hart as "Professor Slatero Quirrell" - but this may not exactly be officially comfirmed.

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching.
"Professor Quirrell!" said Hagrid. "Harry, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."
"P-P-Potter," stammered Professor Quirrell, grasping Harry's hand, "c-can't t-tell you how pleased I am to meet you."
"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"
"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it. "N-not that you n-need it, eh, P-P-Potter?" He laughed nervously. "You'll be g-getting all your equiptment, I suppose? I've g-got to pick up a new b-book on vampires, m-myself." He looked terrified at the very thought.

- PS/SS: Chapter Five, "Diagon Alley"

"Even Professor Quirrell was tremblin' ter meet yeh - mind you, he's usually tremblin'."
"Is he always that nervous?"
"Oh, yeah. Poor bloke. Brilliant mind. He was fine while he was studyin' outta books but then he took a year off ter get some first-hand experience...They say he met vampires in the Black Forest, and there was a nasty bit o' trouble with a hag - never been the same since...scared of the students, scared of his own subject - now, where's me umbrella?"

- PS/SS: Chapter Five, "Diagon Alley"
- Hagrid and Harry

It happened very suddenly. The hook-nosed teacher looked past Quirrell's turban straight into Harry's eyes - and a sharp, hot pain shot across the scar on Harry's forehead.

- PS/SS: Chapter Seven, "The Sorting Hat"

The class every had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lessons turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he'd met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank-you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie, but they weren't sure they believed this story. For one thing, when Seamus Finnigan asked eagerly to hear how Quirrell had fought off the zombie, Quirrell went pink and started talking about the weather; for another, they had noticed that a funny smell hung around the turban, and the Weasley twins insisted that it was stuffed full of garlic as well, so that Quirrell was protected wherever he went.

- PS/SS: Chapter Eight, "The Potions Master"

Harry was just helping himself to a baked potato when Professor Quirrell came sprinting into the hall, his turban askew and terror on his face. Everyone stared as he reached Professor Dumbledore's chair, slumped against the table, and gasped, "Troll - in the dungeons - thought you ought to know."
He then sank to the floor in a dead faint.

- PS/SS: Chapter Ten, "Halloween"

Quirrell took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

- PS/SS: Chapter Ten, "Halloween"

"You!" gasped Harry.
Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twiching at all.
"Me," he said calmly. "I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter."
"But I thought - Snape -"
"Severus?" Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering treble, either, but cold and sharp. "Yes, Severus does seem the type, doesn't he? So useful to have him swooping around like an overgrown bat. Next to him, who would suspect p-p-poor, st-stuttering P-Professor Quirrell?"

- PS/SS: Chapter Seventeen, "The Man With Two Faces"

"He is with me wherever I go," said Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas about good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those to weak to seek it....Since then, I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He has had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive my mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was mose displeased. He punished me...decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me...."

- PS/SS: Chapter Seventeen, "The Man With Two Faces"

Petrified, he watched as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. What was going on? The turban fell away. Quirrell's head looked strangely small without it. Then he turned slowly on the spot.
Harry would have screamed, but he couldn't make a sound. Where there should have been a back to Quirrell's head, there was a face, the most terrible face Harry had ever seen. It was chalk white, with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

- PS/SS: Chapter Seventeen, "The Man With Two Faces"

"See what I have become?" The face said. "Mere shadow and vapor...I have form only when I can share another's body...but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds...unicorn blood has strengthened me, these past few weeks... you saw faithful Quirrell drinking it for me in the forest...and once I have the Elixir of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own..."

- PS/SS: Chapter Seventeen, "The Man With Two Faces"

"He left Quirrell to die; he shows just as little mercy to his followers as his enemies."

- PS/SS: Chapter Seventeen, "The Man With Two Faces"
- Professor Dumbledore

"Then...four years ago...the means for my return seemed assured. A wizard - yound, foolish, and gullible - wandered across my path in the forest I had made my home. Oh, he seemed the very chance I had been dreaming of...for he was a teacher at Dumbledore's school... he was easy to bend to my will...he brought me back to this country, and after a while, I took possession of his body, to supervise him closely as he carried out my orders. But my plan failed. I did not manage to steal the Sorcerer's Stone. I was not to be assumed immortal life. I was thwarted...thwarted, once again, by Harry Potter..."

- GoF: Chapter Thirty-three, "The Death Eaters"
- Lord Voldemort

"The servant died when I left his body, and I was left as weak as ever I had been."

- GoF: Chapter Thirty-three, "The Death Eaters"
- Lord Voldemort

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