Adrian was down the pitch when the fog began to roll in. It left his skin pebbled by gooseflesh. There was practice to be held later, provided the weather cleared up by then. He narrowed his eyes at the low grey clouds. They made it dangerous for flying. Then again, he'd flown in a lightning storm before. He supposed most players had. Given the limited number of players available, however, it might be a good idea to either cancel the evening's activities, or postpone them to the weekend. The students wouldn't be happy; he couldn't blame them. They'd been trapped inside for more than a week straight. It was a blessing when McGonagall handed down the news that they were all allowed out again, which was why he'd scheduled a meeting for the alumni team the moment he was able. Now it was back to business. He had a job to do. That job involved keeping the pitch tidy, from the field itself to the supply and changing rooms located under the stands. It was nearly time for dinner, though, so Adrian finished up what he was doing and headed back toward the castle. He wanted to see Angelina for a few moments, just in case she had plans for the hours between their meal and bedtime.
He took a rather circuitous route to the school for a couple of reasons: one, he wasn't ready to be back inside just yet, and two, it was his duty as a member of the staff to monitor the grounds for potential dangers. It was especially necessary in recent days, and he found himself frowning as he walked. A majority of the students needed counseling of some kind. They even had a man for the job, though it didn't seem anyone was making headway. Adrian didn't think much about it.
Dread curled in his gut when he heard something that sounded very like a cry of distress as he rounded the side of the castle. There was a figure there, flailing out against...nothing at all? He approached carefully.
"Oi, kid. You all - stupid question, Pucey. Can I help? Did someone hurt you?"