Professor Myer's got an EYE at his greeting. It was morning, yes. Her name was Amur, yes. What she really wanted to know was if he had tried any more adventerous types of ice cream. Or when he was going to prove her right by wearing that poncho! Still, acknowledgement deserved acknowledgement, and he got a respectable nod and a "Mornin'."

She quickly decided that she probably should have saved the energy of that breath for needing a sudden bathroom break or other such excuse. Why? Because they were going to do that meditating thing that just....didn't....work.

Amur was sorely tempted to back out of this one. Just, fold her arms and take a step or two back while everyone was joining hands. Wasn't like anyone would notice, right? With their eyes being closed and all? Plus, what if someone didn't want to hold hands? Huh Professor?

However, the last thing she wanted to do was upset the man. So, with a huff of resignation, Amur linked her pinky fingers with those beside her. No hand holding for her. Nope. It was almost as unthinkable as being able to mediate. She only held hands with people she knew and trusted. Apologies fellow classmates.

As per her predictions, the meditating thing did not go down well. She tried. Eyes closed and all that. Problem was, there were questions, thoughts, identity. She wasn't just going to let that go in a breath. Nope. The more it was encouraged they relaxed, the tighter she held to them, as if those around her could breathe away her inner musings by their own meditations.

The session seemed to go on for forever, but when they were finally permitted to leave and let go, Amur did so very abruptly. As she made her way to her desk, she discretely scrubbed her pinky fingers on her pants. Feeling much better about her own proximity, Amur flopped down into her chair and propped her elbows on the desk and her chin in her hands.

Grafting. They were going to talk about grafting. Wizards grafted? Amur's nose wrinkled in disbelief. Surely they had other ways of sticking two plants together. In fact, she was sure they did. Then again, she wasn't the herbologist.

Her brow wrinkled in deep thought. Grafting sounded a lot like charms and transfiguration. Taking something from it's original state and changing it. Adding onto it. Her fingers twitched on her chin, and when Myers asked for types of grafting, her hand shot up. "Gene therapy and modification is a form of grafting. The type they do with DNA in animals and people."

She didn't know a lot, but it had been an article that her father had been obsessed over for about a year. It was weird and bizarre, but it sounded very similar. Just, not for plants. Maybe that was a problem.

Cue more face making.