"I don't want to bring anyone back from the dead, no, but I do want to fix all of this." He blinked, tilting his head in indication that he meant the boy's injuries, "You should sit down, though. I'm not a Living Magus by any means and neither is Professor Devlin, but I can certainly set you right before sending you home, if you'd like, that is?"
Instead of telling Fionn what was going to happen, what he must do, the galdor gave him the luxury of a real, glorious choice. And, even more, he waited for an answer.
Should the younger passive agree, he would offer him one of the somewhat stiff, uncomfortable chairs in the small examination room of Laboratory Beta, shaking his head about the need to remove clothing or lift his shirt again, Harper explaining quietly that he had quite a clear picture of what damage had been done with his Quantitative Analysis, rattling off Fionn's injuries as if he was explaining data to a room full of students.
While the two non-magical creatures in the room would have no idea what kinds of conversation were at all possible with the mona that seemed to refuse to listen to them at all, the way in which Moore spoke was with a familiarity and appreciation that would have been enviable among galdori. His theoretical mind bordered on a form of reverence for the sentience that granted his kind the power they wielded, and it would have shown in his choice of phrasing and the tone of his voice had anyone other than Castor known what he was saying or doing.
Out of genuine respect for the boy, Harper didn't touch Fionn, which he would have preferred for Living conversation, finding the connection an aid to more effective healing. However, to the bespectacled galdor, the young man had been manhandled enough and he wasn't about to add any awkwardness to the moment, so he simply raised one hand in his direction as if about to explain something important and began to cast. The boy would feel a warmth fill him from the outside in, seeping in through the bruised areas of his flesh like comfortably heated bathwater, seeping into muscle, and seeping into bone. There would be no pain, but a slight tingling sensation would reach the tips of his toes, fingers, and nose as the Professor's anesthesia inclusion did its job.
The sensation of being healed magically was still an odd one given that an individual could actually feel the tickle and twinge of muscle and bone repairing itself at some dizzyingly accelerated rate, but there was no suffering in it.
By the time he was done, the passive was probably in better health than he had been in months.
Professor Moore didn't even appear to break a sweat.
Professor Devlin stood somewhere in the middle of Harper's casting as if he worried the young thing would object, clearly hovering nearby just in case, answering questions as he did so, hands in the pockets of his robes,
"I'll walk you both back personally. Don't worry about the rest, really. I've been working the beautiful system of Brunnhold since long before either of you young men were born. Let's leave it at that, shall we? It will be as though nothing happened—what—well—" Castor had the scoundrel's gall to tweak his nose and smirk, rolling his shoulders in a shrug about the whole thing as if he was planning on playing the whole thing by ear and didn't even have a solid plan. He knew how his own kind thought and he knew Mrs. Rogers quite well. Apparently, he also knew his own level of authority and his place under the watchful authority of Headmistress Servalis so well that he didn't even have a care in all of Vita about the safety of two passives,
"—of course you are worth something. Both of you. All of you, honestly." Professor Moore sighed when he was finished casting, reaching up to remove his glasses with one hand and rub his face with the other, "We're doing this because we believe everyone else is wrong, though of course I've had to be creative with my wording of that in order to not lose my job. But, by the Good Lady, that's why. I have made some recent strange discoveries and I believe—"
"—Harper, slow down. They're not ready for the full barrage of your theoretical calculations. They're not even volunteers, my friend. Give them time."
"No, probably not. Listen, I want to show you two something before you go, as a sort of promise of trust between us, if you will. You can say no. It's—well. It's up to you." The younger professor seemed persistent, replacing his glasses onto the bridge of his nose and turning toward one of the worktables to retrieve a small box. Opening the box, he removed what looked like nothing more than a metallic-tinted crystal on a very thin wire, placing it into the palm of his hand and holding it between them all, "I want to show you two things, honestly. This will be the first—"
Nodding to Castor, who for the first time all evening looked genuinely surprised and caught off-guard, Harper stepped toward him. The older galdor sighed and appeared to relax, gathering his field in a way that would have been considered casual but obvious to any other galdori used to using the mona that hovered around their person for communication.
Moore spoke some more Monite, and this time, his words were very slow and clear, almost as though he was either unsure of them or trying very hard to be precise. Like a plumb to measure with, the professor let the crystal hang by its string between his thumb and forefinger, lifting it between Castor and himself. After a few seconds, the crystal shifted, repulsed away from both galdori as if it were flotsam washed by waves away from shore. It was subtle, but the movement couldn't be missed.
Professor Devlin watched with interest, and even though he'd measured and seen the other professor's device several times now, it was still a curious wonder to behold. The current testing methods of Brunnhold and most other educational institution across the Six Kingdoms involved asking a child who was of age to recite a spell, but what Moore was doing was a completely different method entirely. It bucked centuries of tradition and ceremony and the monic theorist wasn't even at all apologetic for his studiousness,
"I've found a way to measure the existence of a field, which I realize means nothing to either of you because all your life, you've been told your lack of one is proof of your unworthiness. Well," Harper smirked in what could only be called intellectual rebellion, the expression lighting up his entire face, and he gathered the crystal back into his palm,
"I've discovered I can measure something else—can I show you?"