Oh. Well there it was. In the magic of......tape.

Amur's nose scrunched a little bit as she eyed the tape roll that floated to her desk and sort of just bobbed in the air. It was a neat little trick, the floating of the tape roll. One that she would have to remember to ask about. Something about levitation and wingardium.

But, for the moment that wasn't the topic. The topic was the annoying thing that kept moving up and down in front of her as she listened to the Professor give the rest of the instructions. It eased her skepticism some, but not entirely. So there was a spell. A spell that would merge the two trees instantly.

Idly, as she plucked the tape roll out of the air, Amur wondered if one could use the spell to merge say...a stone and a brick. Or a human and a ---- no. No that would required grafting and that was.......

She might have blanched a bit at the thought.

With new determination to get her mind off that train of thought, Amur unfurled the tape and gently wrapped it around the break where the two trees connected. Not too tight, not too loose. Just right. Almost like a band-aid. Putting the tape roll to the side, she wondered if it served a similar purpose. Magic would help, but this would ensure the healing?

Pulling her wand out, Amur muttered the incantation a few times. "Jun. Go. Arb. Or. Eum. June. Go. Arb. Orem. Jungo. Arborem."

....No chance that a miss-thrown spell would do any damage. Right? Riiiggghhht?

Just in case, and not particularly wanting to merge a David with a Zeke or some such strange thing, Amur turned herself and her plants away from everyone else. At least this way if she missed, it might just put a desk and chair together. No harm there. The school could make use of chair-desks anyways.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Amur eyed the bandaged tree and with a careful flick of her wrist cast the incantation. "Jungo Arborem."

Silence. Stillness. Nothing.

No sparks. No beam of light. No chorus of 'aaahhhh'.

Amur's nose crinkled more. She tried it again, and then for a third time. Each time, nothing. It looked exactly the same as it had before. She rubbed at her nose, turning back to Myers and holding up her hand.

"How are we supposed to know when it's worked?" Or if. It seemed a safe assumption that the tape couldn't come off.