He had been nearby, studying the star charts against their numerical orders. Every professor was menat to be nearby, in case the first years needed help. Other professors and older students passed him by with a respectful distance. He was not to meant to be disturbed in his more serious pursuits, and though he was young, everything from the crispness of his outfit to the hardness of his stare suggested he was working on something very serious. It also suggested worked his magic with glares instead of wands.
That was not the sound of kids in a haunted house. He knew that sound. He dropped the charts and raced towards it. He stopped when faced with an anomaly at this time of the school year: an empty corridor.
Hate this castle, he thought. Durmstrang didn’t confound its residents like this.
Same side of the corridor. Different angle. Okay. That was something he could deal with. Simple mathematics. Ignore the visuals. Plant your feet. Concentrate on the acoustics. He heard the second voice yell in fright, running then slam a door. Something collapsed. He couldn’t think of that just now. It would distract. Calculating the points; Voice 1, Voice 2. Two other sounds, in the corridor. Two other students in the group. Should be three, but one had been given four. Four students. Took their vectors in relation to him. Quick spell to fix their locations.
He checked again that his feet were firmly planted then sent a series of vines out along the air to the other points. He felt them land by their targets. “Hold Tight!” He shouted , his voice a booming echo in the emptiness. And pulled.
There was a series of sucking popping noises and four first years appear at the feet of a professor who looked ready to expel them for wasting his time.
“Get up. “ he ordered, recalling the vines into his wand. “ Hurry.” He lead the way out of the corridor, and turned down another empty. He scowled wordlessly at one of the empty portraits, opened the second door they came across and lead the group out into an area, that was well-aired and populated by pastorals. In one a herd of sheep looked blankly back at the humans. He closed the door behind them and marked it with a large red X an a series of other of limits spells. Then he turned back to the students.
If he were older, he would have wanted to know that they were fine, mentally and physically. If he were older he would have reassured them that they were safe, that Hogwarts never harmed anyone. He would calmed them down and asked each one individually to explain what had happened.
Today he was younger, and his younger self hated wasting time. They were obviously fine physically.
“What happened?” he demanded