"That isn't necessary, no. Uh, I'm the last living sphinx and she's the second-to-last living dragon and we have extra species-specific powers we are using to cheat."

"Okay, what, no way. This is definitely some sort of scam. Prove it."

"Okay." Margaret checks that the door is definitely still shut and puts on her scaly green wings and head.

Michael rocks back so hard his chair almost falls over and he has to grab the edge of the table to pull himself back upright. "Woah. Okay, not fake, need a minute to deal."

"Sorry, I should have warned you better." Margaret returns to human shape, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Okay, so you're using some kind species bonuses to be better at runecasting--what does that do? Do you know how to do it as a normal gryphon? I guess if you have different ones . . .?"

"So, dragons basically do magic suppression, which doesn't sound like an advantage except that I can suppress only the bad effects of a failed spell. So everything is a lot safer if I'm the one casting it. That's why I can invent spells but can't teach inventing spells--I'm working by trial and error nobody else could get away with."

"Man, that's cool, I'm super jealous. I don't suppose you could invent a spell to let other people do that?" he says, tone very 'ha ha only serious'.

"Oooh. Hmm." Margaret gets a nerd-sniped look in her eyes.

"Well, one of the theories about where critter species came from in the first place is runecasting..."

"Yeah! Runecasting accidents, supposedly, but still. Actually, given that, I wonder which would be easier: giving a critter the powers of a different species, or turning a human into a specific critter species entirely. Might depend on whether the connection between species and powers fundamentally means anything."

"Wouldn't that require telling a human about critters, though? Or surprising them with it, which would be even worse."

"Some humans know. If they have a critter kid or something."

"Yeah, and I bet anyone who's married to a critter with critter kids would think being a critter was neat."

"I honestly don't know why anyone wouldn't think it was awesome. Even without the bonus magic, the shapeshifting is just super cool."

"My dad doesn't want to be a critter," Bella says. "He's probably not the only one in all the world."

"True. But it will be cool if we can figure out how to give people the option. Anyway, Michael, anything else you want to know before you make a decision?"

"Will I have the option of doing just summers? I don't know if I'll be able to keep up once my classes start again in the fall."

"I think that should be okay. We're already expecting different people to study different things, so it won't be like a normal class where you end up stuck if you fall behind."

"And the field's so new it's not like we have years of curriculum already prepped right now."

"That makes sense. In that case, yeah, I think I'll go for it."

"Good to have you aboard."

Over the next few weeks, Bella and Margaret interview more students. A few of them sign on; others decline for various reasons (scared of runecasting, schedule incompatibility, wary of getting drawn into critter politics), but soon they have what feels like a reasonable class size.

They have dates that turn into curriculum planning meetings and curriculum planning meetings that turn into dates. They fix up the house and get it furnished with everything they expect to need.

Margaret makes a bunch of fruit flies unaging; by the end of the summer she'll know if it worked. She starts selling power strips that don't need a wall outlet and cell phone battery packs that look perfectly ordinary but last forever.

And then they start classes, because magic is awesome and everyone should get to enjoy it.