As you enter Professor Sandhu's office, the first thing you may notice is that it only just barely falls short of being a fully fledged library. Books and magazines on every imaginable intersection between Astronomy and Magic line the shelves, some bearing familiar names such as Georg Joachim von Rheticus and Marion Burbage. It seems almost impossible that one person can have read them all, especially since not all of them were written in English. Should you attempt to take a book from this valuable collection without permission, alarms will go off, alerting Professor Sandhu, and your hands will turn red. There will also be consequences.

The room is lit entirely by natural light in the daytime, but at night and in the winter months, mason jars of bluebell flames illuminate the space. It almost definitely smells of apple pie, but that is most likely due to the scented candle burning at the desk.

Not far from the three-wicked candle stand two photo frames. The first is of herself, her husband, taken not long before he passed, and their son. She is hardly recognisable at first glance -- this photo is close to forty years old, but she wasn't born in her mid-80s. The second photo is much more recent, a picnic with the four generations of Sandhu women, the youngest of whom is taking a nap in Simran's arms.

A door to the south side leads into the Innovation Lounge.