Professor Hawthornleaf's office was a popular location for nonjudgmental mending of physical and psychic wounds. His visitor approached and his gloved hand touched them, channeling a surge of magic. A divine radiance engulfed the wounded person and fixed their injury. "T-there you go," he murmured in a soft and comforting tone. The professor's countenance appeared cold, yet an intense gaze lingered in his tired silver eyes. For some reason, he found it difficult to let go of the other person.