Henry made a panicky, soft noise when the wand came out. Sharp, pointy objects had him on edge for obvious reasons. But it would've been unnecessary effort for the woman to stab him some more. No need to finish the job, either; a few minutes more and he'd be a corpse.
Unless he wasn't. He didn't feel the first iteration of the spell, though the warm gush of blood drenching his fingers seemed to taper off slightly. Nor did he feel the second as the wounds flushed themselves clean, which was probably a blessing. The third, he did feel, the strange sensation cutting through the haze of blood loss enough to make him frown and scrabble for his shirt hem.
"What... what're you..." Beneath the mess of fresh and dried blood on his stomach, which had soaked into his clothing, Henry found no wounds. Pink skin, yes, smooth and a little shiny, but no exposed flesh, or worse. "H-how...?" He raised his head to look back at the woman with the - was that a wand? - the wand. "Who are you?" Because he had seen Savages before, but none of them could do something like this.