Hurrying down the corridor I was at a loss as to whom to try next. I really
didn't have a favourite after those two. But my question was solved when
turning a corner without looking where I was going I ran directly into
Professor Vector. He let out a little squeak as his pile of papers went
spraying over the floor. Thinking fast I dropped onto my knees to help him
and exclaimed in an overly excited voice, "Professor! Your just the man I
wanted to see!" Straightening his glasses he looked slightly puzzled as he
reorganised each and every sheet of parchment into the perfect order. I was
stunned that he could look at me and seem to be concentrating on my words
while his hands worked seemingly by their own accord to file the papers
into their correct place. Within seconds every piece was placed as he
wanted them, and not a single one was even slightly out of symmetry with
the rest. They looked like a pile of brand new parchments from a shop. If I
had tried to do that I would have ended up with some perpendicular to the
rest at the most and an inch difference in each pieces edge in the least.
But neatness was something I could handle.
"Really? Me?" I was about to answer when his eyes turned upwards and he started to mumble nonsensical words to himself. The fingers on his right hand moving as if to punch numbers into an invisible calculator, outstretched in front him and bending in weird angles at the joints. The white of his eyes shining in the torch light as he tried desperately to look directly into his brain. His thick glasses magnified the effect and I could see the small veins on his eyeballs as they shifted slightly back and forth as if reading. His lips moved in a silent and steady mumbles and paused slightly when his hands movements stopped, only to start again with a slight look of relief. He looked like the rain man. I was tempted to run.
Finally his eyes came back down and a smile asserted itself on his face. "Dear me, and to think there was only a 1 in 1483 chance that you would choose me to stay with when one considers you are not in my class and a student is three times as likely to go to a teacher they are taught by and twice as likely to go to a member of the opposite sex, unless you happen to be gay which there is a 1 in 10 chance to be taken into consideration. I must tell you I'm quite surprised. Could I ask what the factor that swayed in my favour was?"
Dumbfounded as I was my excuse sounded plebeian next to his mathematical brain. "Hermoine." He raised and eyebrow and considered this answer before shaking his head and looking back at me for a better response. He reminded me of a robot who, upon obtaining an unsuitable answer, simply rebooted and asked again. Completely deleting the memory of my poor attempt at logic from his head.
"Hermoine said you were really nice. She always talks about you. To hear her say it you're the best teacher in the world, and I figured it would be nice to finally meet you." His face reddened in embracement as he stood back up and stuttered out excuses, as if being liked were a crime. "Yes, well, she is a good student. A well ordered mind, but that's not to say I'm too nice to her. She really shouldn't talk like that. People will think. . .Not that there's anything to thing. No, no, she's a student! That's all, she's a good student." His voice had risen in the middle to an almost alarmed pitch before noticing my growing suspicion and falling back to a pathetic mumble. This skinny and inexplicably clean man was either conducting in inappropriate behaviour with Hermoine, or he desperately wanted to and felt horrible guilt over that fact. A slight sheen was growing on his forehead under my scrutiny and a single ball of sweat rolled down his bald head and past his eat as I watched. He was shaking slightly like a leaf in the wind. He pulled his papers tight to his chest like a girl with a rag doll and tried to assert some authority. "Come along then, Potter." And with that he turned on his heal and led me to his quarters. My bag still in my pocket unpacked. God only knew what horrors wait in lay in this mans home.
The first thing I noticed where the triangles. Hundreds of them. The room was a triangle, the doors, the mat and the oddly shaped furniture all triangles. And not just any triangle. These where right angles. A sign above his mantel had some indecipherable latin which he read out as a hilarious joke. The mathematicians mind had clearly snapped. He lead me to my room and told me to unpack. I was unsure. As of yet I had refrained form removing any items from my trunk unless I desperately needed them. All the better for fast escapes. But he waited for me to begin and I could not think of a way of explaining to him that should he turn out to be a complete nut job I wanted everything packed and ready to go.
The first item I removed was a book from Hermoine that sat on top of my trunk. I placed it on the side table and reached for another item as the man moved in my peripheral. He lifted the book and positioned it at the end of the shelf, at a perfect right angle to the edge of the shelf. I looked up and met his eyes and he smiled serenely and continued to stand watching me. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. He'd just made a triangle out of my book and the wall. Something was wrong.
I lifted my stack of clothes still on their hangers and placed them on the pole in the wardrobe. Vector made no move so I searched in my trunk for my dragon figurine. He disserved a good walk around after all. But when I turned back the professor was standing in front of the wardrobe rehanging each item with speedy care. Some items he folded double, some he sat lower on the hangers. With each newly hung piece he would shift their places at what seemed like a growing pattern. Indignation at him having touched my things at all was frozen in shock as I realised he was not only arranging them in a blended rainbow, so the yellows sat by the greens and the greens by the blue, but that from let to right the clothing appeared to get shorter because of his folding. When he finally stepped back there was a triangle of clothing. And not just any triangle, a right angle triangle. My mouth was agape with fear. Fascination. Perhaps even slight respect. This was, after all, a very organised man.
His eyes spotted the stretching dragon in my palm and he reached out to take it. My fingers immediately closed protectively over it. I'd no idea how he would turn a dragon into a triangle, but I didn't particularly want too either. He made a frustrated noise and tried to pry my fingers open. I was shocked into stillness, that was, until he started to make some progress and I moved my other hand up to enclose my beloved pet as well.
"Come on now, Potter. We'll just give him a trim. In the name of order let him go!"
I cried out in the negative and a tug of war began. He sputtered and tried with all his might to remove the creature from my hands. His glasses slightly shifting down his nose as I tugged my own hands closer to chest. He was mad! With a final tug I managed to rip my hands free and stuff the dragon in my pocket, "I'm really sorry Professor, this was a mistake!" I grabbed my clothes and stuffed them back in my trunk to which he gave a horrified cry. Grabbing my book and re-shrinking the chest I ran for the door past hundreds of terrifying triangles. His crying could be heard echoing down the halls.
I clearly needed to talk to Hermoine about the sanity of continuing his class. (And continuing anything else she may or may not be doing with the man.
"Really? Me?" I was about to answer when his eyes turned upwards and he started to mumble nonsensical words to himself. The fingers on his right hand moving as if to punch numbers into an invisible calculator, outstretched in front him and bending in weird angles at the joints. The white of his eyes shining in the torch light as he tried desperately to look directly into his brain. His thick glasses magnified the effect and I could see the small veins on his eyeballs as they shifted slightly back and forth as if reading. His lips moved in a silent and steady mumbles and paused slightly when his hands movements stopped, only to start again with a slight look of relief. He looked like the rain man. I was tempted to run.
Finally his eyes came back down and a smile asserted itself on his face. "Dear me, and to think there was only a 1 in 1483 chance that you would choose me to stay with when one considers you are not in my class and a student is three times as likely to go to a teacher they are taught by and twice as likely to go to a member of the opposite sex, unless you happen to be gay which there is a 1 in 10 chance to be taken into consideration. I must tell you I'm quite surprised. Could I ask what the factor that swayed in my favour was?"
Dumbfounded as I was my excuse sounded plebeian next to his mathematical brain. "Hermoine." He raised and eyebrow and considered this answer before shaking his head and looking back at me for a better response. He reminded me of a robot who, upon obtaining an unsuitable answer, simply rebooted and asked again. Completely deleting the memory of my poor attempt at logic from his head.
"Hermoine said you were really nice. She always talks about you. To hear her say it you're the best teacher in the world, and I figured it would be nice to finally meet you." His face reddened in embracement as he stood back up and stuttered out excuses, as if being liked were a crime. "Yes, well, she is a good student. A well ordered mind, but that's not to say I'm too nice to her. She really shouldn't talk like that. People will think. . .Not that there's anything to thing. No, no, she's a student! That's all, she's a good student." His voice had risen in the middle to an almost alarmed pitch before noticing my growing suspicion and falling back to a pathetic mumble. This skinny and inexplicably clean man was either conducting in inappropriate behaviour with Hermoine, or he desperately wanted to and felt horrible guilt over that fact. A slight sheen was growing on his forehead under my scrutiny and a single ball of sweat rolled down his bald head and past his eat as I watched. He was shaking slightly like a leaf in the wind. He pulled his papers tight to his chest like a girl with a rag doll and tried to assert some authority. "Come along then, Potter." And with that he turned on his heal and led me to his quarters. My bag still in my pocket unpacked. God only knew what horrors wait in lay in this mans home.
The first thing I noticed where the triangles. Hundreds of them. The room was a triangle, the doors, the mat and the oddly shaped furniture all triangles. And not just any triangle. These where right angles. A sign above his mantel had some indecipherable latin which he read out as a hilarious joke. The mathematicians mind had clearly snapped. He lead me to my room and told me to unpack. I was unsure. As of yet I had refrained form removing any items from my trunk unless I desperately needed them. All the better for fast escapes. But he waited for me to begin and I could not think of a way of explaining to him that should he turn out to be a complete nut job I wanted everything packed and ready to go.
The first item I removed was a book from Hermoine that sat on top of my trunk. I placed it on the side table and reached for another item as the man moved in my peripheral. He lifted the book and positioned it at the end of the shelf, at a perfect right angle to the edge of the shelf. I looked up and met his eyes and he smiled serenely and continued to stand watching me. My eyes narrowed in suspicion. He'd just made a triangle out of my book and the wall. Something was wrong.
I lifted my stack of clothes still on their hangers and placed them on the pole in the wardrobe. Vector made no move so I searched in my trunk for my dragon figurine. He disserved a good walk around after all. But when I turned back the professor was standing in front of the wardrobe rehanging each item with speedy care. Some items he folded double, some he sat lower on the hangers. With each newly hung piece he would shift their places at what seemed like a growing pattern. Indignation at him having touched my things at all was frozen in shock as I realised he was not only arranging them in a blended rainbow, so the yellows sat by the greens and the greens by the blue, but that from let to right the clothing appeared to get shorter because of his folding. When he finally stepped back there was a triangle of clothing. And not just any triangle, a right angle triangle. My mouth was agape with fear. Fascination. Perhaps even slight respect. This was, after all, a very organised man.
His eyes spotted the stretching dragon in my palm and he reached out to take it. My fingers immediately closed protectively over it. I'd no idea how he would turn a dragon into a triangle, but I didn't particularly want too either. He made a frustrated noise and tried to pry my fingers open. I was shocked into stillness, that was, until he started to make some progress and I moved my other hand up to enclose my beloved pet as well.
"Come on now, Potter. We'll just give him a trim. In the name of order let him go!"
I cried out in the negative and a tug of war began. He sputtered and tried with all his might to remove the creature from my hands. His glasses slightly shifting down his nose as I tugged my own hands closer to chest. He was mad! With a final tug I managed to rip my hands free and stuff the dragon in my pocket, "I'm really sorry Professor, this was a mistake!" I grabbed my clothes and stuffed them back in my trunk to which he gave a horrified cry. Grabbing my book and re-shrinking the chest I ran for the door past hundreds of terrifying triangles. His crying could be heard echoing down the halls.
I clearly needed to talk to Hermoine about the sanity of continuing his class. (And continuing anything else she may or may not be doing with the man.