Submitting bc this idea has been building for a while, after reading your comic. I hope this isn’t presumptuous.
There are some places on the campus where space… folds.
If you step through this arch at midnight on a new moon when only starlight creates shadows you’ll step from the neatly-paved courtyard to the paired stones outside Tara. Thankfully the Good Neighbours there are used to it, and will tell you how to get back, though it might cost you the shirt off your back. Apparently they’re making a super-quilt.
There’s the small grove just at the edge of campus and in the middle of summer when the dragonflies drone and pollen spirals through shafts of sunlight like flakes of gold you really need to avoid the ring of Fly Agaric that sprung up after the stump of the old felled white oak rotted away. If you don’t, make sure you have some milk, or some cream, or a sack of really high quality charcoal. The Huldrekin at the other end might just send you back if you come bearing gifts, though if they especially like you they may keep you and send back a changeling instead.
There’s a twisting void in the stretching pond (and if you look at it through the trees of the grove it looks like it’s far larger than it is, a lake, not a pond) and yes, there’s the Nixies you know, and the melting sun-shy Asrai, the leather-capped Merrows, and the sealy Selkies you’ve come to recognise - they’re almost open about things, and if you’ve ever let one take you to bed you can see them all, waving at you. They’re probably the only ones which let you see, and won’t curse you for it.
(The seal-like teeth had freaked you out at first, but there is a reason Selkie lovers are reputed to help with heartbreak.)
(You remember that week fondly, and you still go down with pieces of unusual fish after there’s the market in town. It doesn’t hurt to maintain a good relationship with your ex, and especially not when they’re of the Good Neighbours.)
Generally, though, you won’t see the Sjora or the Havsra, the single, lone wish-granting Ceasg, the small amphibious Kallran, unless you are very polite. Usually your ex will introduce them for you and then, maybe, you’ll be allowed to See through, see the kelp-green hair or the needle-sharp teeth, or the wide-and-watching fishlike eyes. Sometimes, if the magics begun to permeate even you, you can smell the fish they’ve been eating.
There’s a cupboard in the cafeteria, affectionately called Narnia, and two Student Halls which everyone is reasonably certain are secretly entrances to an eternal party held by the Good Neighbours - it’s either that or, somehow, every year, the vapers and drinkers and party-ers all end up in these two halls, and end up rolling into their lectures 10 minutes late and with cups of Good Neighbour-made hangover cure. They’re tightlipped about what happened, but, well. Everyone assumes that’s the price of entry.
The science labs are free of these odd little folds, probably because of the iron, but the Law building is filled with them, as are the Arts departments. History has two doors in the East corridor that lead… elsewhen. Not elsewhere, elsewhen. Some of the students use them for history papers and cultural studies essays, but they have to be very careful if they ever intend to come back.
Twice now the budding archaeology department have done a practice dig only to find century-old bones that definitely show evidence of modern braces. And no one talks about the three-hundred year old FitBit.
(“You have walked 19,967 steps today!” It had shown in a pretty and definitely non-standard cursive when a … maybe changeling student had picked it up and wiped off the years. “You have 10% battery left. Please give me more magic!”)
(Now the techs are trying desperately to see if they can power their computers with magic. This would be easier if their building had less iron, but they aren’t about to move.)
(Not like the budget is going to let them.)