Frowning as the light disappears, she listens to him and nods.  That's a good thing to know, even though she might not need it just yet.  Taking another of the pieces of paper off the desk, she rips it in two, then lays both pieces next to each other on the wooden surface.  Then across the tear she starts writing the words for yet another spell.  As she does so, the fibers start to twist back together, pulling the edges tight.<br/><br/>But just as it looks like the spell had worked perfectly, the edges continue to pull.  They draw the paper in too close, wrinkling it as the fibers try to occupy already used space.  She stops writing, but the damage is done.  The formerly flat paper is no more than a crinkled mess.  Trying to flatten it by hand, she meets with no success, and sighs at her first clear failure.