Margaret Peregrine is a high school sophomore. Most of the time, she's either at school, at the school robotics club, at the school chess club, or doing schoolwork. Today, she's cleaning out her late great-grandmother's attic.
Oooh. She'll get the bread with tomatoes and mozzarella and balsamic on it, and a lime bar, and head on home to read . . . actually, she still has the first volume of Natural Magic, she should take a look at that before she has to give it back.
Oh no, the poor Nokks! Does it have anything on natural dragon magic?
Well, there are four more still in the library. She reads a few more articles and then switches to Aftermath.
Things were tense between griffins (largely partisans of the sphinxes) and other, less partisan species after the war was over. While some griffin families had remained neutral, and a few griffins had even turned spy for the dragons, the effects on the reputation of the griffin species lingered for many years. Dragons had fewer species-wide allies than sphinxes, but still drew on the support of many monsters and sometimes harnessed cryptids (things like Nessie, though not her specifically) in the war. Some cryptids were destroyed afterwards by vengeful remnants of the sphinx side.
A few families and individuals attempted to continue to prosecute the war even after its principals were all dead, to enrich themselves or salvage some glory; they were not appreciated for this in their own time. Most people wanted to leave the dragons and sphinxes both buried and out of everybody's way.
She sort of can't blame them. And nobody has any clue why the war started in the first place, do they?
Well, that sort of suggests that if dragons return to society having successfully reverse-engineered medallions, it should help. But that's a sufficiently ambitious project that she should probably work on de-aging first. In the shorter term, what happens if she uses the informal "you" when ordering the magic to chill some water, instead of the formal?
How about if she rephrases it to the French version of "I insist that this water be cooled immediately"?
Not much colder, though, or it would freeze. Still, interesting.
She's running low on experiment ideas; she looks at the healing diagram. What are the main meanings, and what are their proportions?
This one's much more complicated. The main meanings of the first layer of runes are "intact", "reverse", "life", "control", and "protection"; the "life" rune chosen has a secondary of "intact" and the "protection" rune chosen has a tertiary of "reverse", which makes for mildly less disastrous cancellation layers. A footnote helpfully explains that reverse runes are dangerous because they leave a lot up to interpretation, so the incantation has to be very good.
And of course it doesn't say anything new about what makes an incantation good, does it. If she calculates out all the cancellations (and then waits a couple days and does it again), are there nontrivial amounts of anything other than those five present?
Margaret is not going to try this on herself or anything she cares about the first several dozen times; she's going to catch a worm. With that in mind, she starts on a couple different incantation wordings, hates all of them, starts a couple more, then goes to the library on her way to the next DnD session to see if anything there has anything on incantation design.
If nothing else it will be good French practice. She returns Natural Magic and Aftermath, checks it out, and heads to game.
Landgoing privateers are not nearly as cool as seafaring privateers, and even if they were they're still not getting any of the party's stuff. Or anybody else in the caravan's stuff, for that matter.
Magical motorcycles are pretty cool, but they don't give you an excuse to say 'Avast!' or 'Hard a-starboard!' so they are indeed less cool than maritime combat. Back to investigating cultists, unless their thwarting of the privateers left any loose ends that need dealing with first.