Jake had sprung into action before the storm hit. He must've been blocked, somehow, vision wise--because he didn't see the storm until it was a few miles away. And even then, there was nothing he could do to stop it. Almost immediately, he had been flooded with the visions of dying, broken, lost, stupid, ranting, whingy, bleeding students. And it was then that he took off down the hall with a lit torch and started relighting each and every hanging light in the castle starting from his office. He'd stopped, after a few minutes, to make a notice that the stairs weren't working and that the students shouldn't be so stupid as to go wandering needlessly in the dark. But they had, apparently, and now he was busy leading students back from the library (as he'd gotten several floors by that point) and was doing his best to stay calm.
Connors could wait.
What he didn't expect was to fall into the wall and see the image of her dead somewhere in the castle. And as soon as he got those students to their houses, he went speeding off, torch blazing in the darkness, to find her. Dramatic, yes, but sometimes his visions were bloody and gory and when the screaming face of Terry Connors was embedded in his brain, he didn't really feel like wasting another minute of her time. There were gaggles of stupid students who were wandering around the halls, shrieking at their loss of magic, but Jake could only light the lamps as he raced past them. "GO BACK TO YOUR HOUSES," he shouted, blazing past, eventually making it up an emergency set of stairs (that didn't move) to the level where Ms. Connors happened to be.
He could hear her scream and his heart hammered in his chest. "Fucking hell," he grumbled under his breath, jumping up to land somewhere next to her. "Terry," he breathed, a little winded, as he held out the light to see her face. "You're alive."