Hogwarts Sect of Witchcraft and Wizardry

---

October continues to have miserable weather. Every time you think about going outside, you can feel the mud creeping up your ankles, and the whole castle plays host to a damp chill. The older students in higher stages of cultivation don't seem to mind, but you certainly prefer to stick near the braziers that have sprung up all over like mushrooms.

Unfortunately, you're starting to feel a bit stir-crazy. Spending nearly all of September with your nose in a book hasn't done any favors to your concentration, and try as you might, you fail to capture the Zen state you need to make progress.

When you meet an obstacle, you usually find that bashing your head against it does little good. Alas, this time the alternative of working on your physical cultivation is nearly as unpleasant. Given the near constant light drizzle, you're loath to head outside, but you aren't raised to quit either, so for half a week you drag yourself out of bed with the intention of torturing yourself before breakfast.

It's not that you give up after just half a week. The mind is willing, but the body is under assault. You come down with an incredibly annoying cold which leaves your nose completely stuffed and you feeling weak and feverish. There's a line between useful training and self-harm, and you're pretty sure that heading out in your condition would be the latter.

A visit to the school nurse confirms your opinion. Madam Pomphrey prescribes you a dose of the pepper-up potion, which proves to be a singularly unpleasant experience. With your nose completely blocked, the pressure seems to build and build, until your head is ringing and an uncomfortable heat in your throat seriously makes you consider throwing up. Then with a painful pop of imaginary sound the effect abates, literal steam blowing out of your ears of all places. Suffice to say you fully intend to comply with the instruction to take it easy for a while, if only to avoid the experience of the evil drug.

Still, every illness eventually passes and you're wiser and more cautious for it. Instead of returning to the muddy lakeshore, you switch to a routine of calisthenics. Without the wind on your face and all your muscles moving, sensing the flows of Qi that you felt with Elder Quirrel is harder, but you'd like to think that the extra challenge just makes your progress all the more precious.

---

With so much to do and see, you haven't really had time to feel homesick, but as you recover from your cold, wrapped in a thick blanket in the common room, you'd be lying if you said that you don't miss dad. It truly is the little things. Right now, you really want someone to bring you a cup of tea and a strawberry jam sandwich.

Your thoughts continue to drift as you stare at the fire, the crackle of flame providing a pleasant backdrop to your musings. Then again, if you feel melancholy, maybe dad does too. You've seen owls deliver post to students during breakfast - newspapers predominantly - and surely the system works both ways. Luckily you're never without a notebook these days, although your supply is dwindling rapidly. All the more reason to write home. With nothing more urgent to do, you thumb to an empty page and start.

Dear dad,

I hope you know I haven't forgotten about you. There's just so much to do. Did you know the castle has more than one library? I've read more books since coming here than in all the rest of my old school years combined. I bet I'm better read than you, now.

The elders - it's what we call teachers here - are a strange bunch. The history teacher is a ghost! I haven't really talked to them much though, they're busy making sure all the disciples stay safe, so they don't have any time left for teaching. At least that's what the older students say. Elder Flitwick, my head of House - more on that later - is really nice though. He even agreed to let me play Quidditch.

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For a moment you consider whether to cross the last part out. You doubt your dad would approve of you flying dozens of feet in the air handling real steel weapons. Well, you know he wouldn't. Best to gloss over some parts.

That's like football, if there were more balls and they could fly. I made the team as a goalie, if you believe it. The first game is actually right on my birthday! We're playing against Hufflepuff, and I hope we win quickly.

Right - Hogwarts has four houses. There's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff and Slytherin. But the best one is Ravenclaw, the house for the wise and studious, because that's where I got sorted. I am now a magically proven smarty-pants. Bet you didn't see that one coming.

I have eight housemates. They're nice, but we're all busy doing our own thing. Cultivation really is a very personal journey, so I guess that makes sense. Still, a boy called Tony organized a study club, so we at least get a chance to talk there.

I have made a friend, too. Lisa Turpin and I visited an art exhibition together.

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You'll be omitting the more exciting details, but you still want to gloat about your accomplishment.

It was really cool. There are no telly's here, but there's a charm to make the artworks move like they were real. It's almost as if we got sucked into the painting.

It's not all good news though - I caught a cold. I'm getting better now! The school nurse gave me a potion (cultivator cough syrup is even worse than the normal one) and told me to take it easy for a few days, so that's what I'm doing right now.

I'm itching to get back out there though. I really don't have time to sit idle. I hope you've been keeping busy too. Make sure you wash the dishes now that I'm not there.

I hope this letter finds you well.

LOL, Rei

PS I don't know how I managed to send it to you yet, but if it's by owl, then they're actually really smart spirit beasts. You should be able to send a letter back with them.

PPS Please send more notebooks.

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You keep writing about your studies, describing the classes of the first week in more detail and copying over a page with a breathing diagram for meditation on it to show your work. Then you gush some more about the castle itself, even whipping together a quick sketch of the view from the lake. It doesn't do the real thing any justice, but it'll have to make due.

The end result is a rambling mess of thoughts, more stream of consciousness than coherent writing, but it's also very you, and you think dad would appreciate it even more as it is.

Looking outside, there's still some daylight left, so you grab an envelope from the bottom of your trunk packed along for just this purpose and, wrapped in mittens and scarves, head outside.

The owlery is a tower on the outskirts of the castle perimeter, barely inside the official walls. You haven't visited it yet, but you hope someone is there to help you out. Thankfully your prayers are answered: as you enter the ground floor of the tower, you spot someone trying to wrangle a huge wooden box down the staircase (this time stationary). As the person rests the crate on the barrister to see where she's going, you recognize her.

"Mandy! What are you doing here?"

"My clan sent me a package. You?" She isn't the slightest bit winded from carrying her load, troubled not by the weight but the unwieldly nature of it.

"I wanted to send a letter to my dad back home. How about a deal: you help me get it sent and I'll help you carry that thing?"

"Sure."

Mandy's a girl of few words, but the process is really quite simple. The school has a handful of owls just for students like you, and placing your letter into the tube tied to one of their legs is enough to have the spirit take flight.

True to your word, you then help your housemate through the doors and eventually up the steps to your dorms. The effects of her having achieved her physical milestone are quite evident. Your assistance isn't required at all in open spaces, and you're mostly providing her with an audible warning system when she maneuvers in tight corners rather than doing any heavy lifting.

Still, by the time you reach your destination, your curiosity is piqued.

"So if it's not a secret, what's in that thing?"

Instead of an easy answer, Mandy bites her lip for a moment. "Alright, I'll show you, but don't go spreading it around later, please."

Now you're really interested. With your nod, she grunts and the box opens up. Inside is a nest of blankets, and within that is a tiny ball of black fur.

Gingerly, Mandy lifts it out and cups it to her chest. As a long and fluffy tail slowly curls around her wrist, you're forced to stuff your fist in your mouth to suppress the desire to squee. Something this cute has no right existing!

Within her palm is the tiniest monkey you've ever seen. It's barely taller than your thumb, and no bigger than a mouse. With languishing movement, it stretches its tiny arms out before wrapping them around Mandy's index finger and slowly blinking its eyes open.

It's a lost cause to contain your glee as you let out a high-pitched 'e'.

"Oh my god, it has a braided moustache..."

"He's a Northern Dwarf Pygmy Tamarin. They get the Dwarf part of the name from their grooming habits, they like to weave braids."

The fluffball is waking up properly now, and you hold your breath as he looks at you, dark eyes glistening and the long tuft of expertly kept white fur on his lip quivering. Then the moment passes and he turns to Mandy, letting out a dismayed squeak and scampering up her blouse to her frizzy hair. Mandy doesn't stop him as he tugs himself up along it, the monkey too light to bother her. When he gets to the top of her head, he curls his tail around her ear for stability and starts fussing about with her unruly locks.

Finally, Mandy lets out a little giggle and your brain kicks back into gear.

"He's so cute! Where did you get him? What's his name?"

You're bouncing in excitement on the edge of her bed, all thoughts of homesickness forgotten.

"His name is Billy. My clan owns a huge swathe of mystical land in Northumbria and we specialize in caring for spirit beasts. Billy is still young, but eventually he'll learn to channel Qi if he spends time with a cultivator. However it takes a lot to properly care for Pygmy Tamarins, it's said to be like raising a small child. You have always be alert. Now that I've completed the early realm of defense, I should have the energy to look out for him without it affecting my studies too badly."

You keep badgering her with question after question for most of the evening, but Mandy doesn't seem to mind. The normally quiet girl clearly has a soft spot for animals, and if they're half as adorable as Billy, you can't blame her.

---

The very next day at lunch, you're surprised by a brown owl dropping a letter on top of your head. For a brief moment, you think your dad already got your letter and wrote back, but those hopes are quickly dashed as you see the unfamiliar handwriting on the parchment.

Inside is a brief - in substance if not in length - invite and a set of instructions for reaching a convenient conference room near the cellars beneath the greenhouses. At first, the unfamiliar location causes stranger danger warnings to flash in your brain, but Lisa has an identical letter, and there's safety in numbers, so you agree to go together. Before leaving the common room, you pick up another Ravenclaw muggleborn in the form of Roger Malone.

The three of you arrive together, walking into a room with an oval table and a magnificent chandelier. Three other disciples turn to look at you.

"Wondrous, we're all here!"

The Hufflepuff boy you think should be Justin stands up from the far end of the table, his arms spread wide. You're not exactly sure he realizes what kind of image he's projecting, and the fact that the table comes up past his belly serves to make it more comical than patronizing.

"As I'm sure you're all aware, my good fellows, I've invited you here as a way to touch base with our roots."

The other two are Gryffindors, the girl you vaguely recognize from history class, and the boy was one of the two standing after Quirrel's warmup.

"I came for the snacks," the latter gives you a grin.

"I thought there were five muggleborn students in our class. That's what the ledger in the annual errata to 'Hogwarts, a history' states." The girl snipes at your host.

Judging from the look on said host's face, this whole meeting has already fallen away from what he envisioned. You decide to bail him out.

"That would be me. My mother died when I was a toddler, but she was a cultivator, even if I grew up without knowing much about the immortal world."

"Indeed," Justin lets out a weak laugh, "I didn't know about this ledger, and it seems to be a fortunate error on my part. I asked Lady Bones amongst others when I was composing my invites, and she told me about your circumstances. I hope no one has overstepped by revealing this info. But please, come and sit. There are, in fact, snacks."

He's not wrong. The Gryffindor boy has a bowl of candy in front of him, and there are finger sandwiches on the table. All of you find chairs while the lone Hufflepuff remains standing.

"Right. Very good. Now, I think it would be splendid if we had a round of introductions. I'll set the example. I'm Justin Finch-Fletchley, but we're all fast fellows here, so it's just Justin. I was set for Eton before getting my letter," he actually brushes imaginary lint from his shoulder, "but I'm sure you can tell which one I chose. I won last month's point in potions, so if you have any questions about that, I'm sure I can point you in the right direction. That Snape though, eh?"

"Elder Snape."

You're pretty sure his posh accent at least partially faked, and the speech he's giving seems to be a script. It's also clear that he doesn't deal well with interruptions, sputtering as the Gryffindor girl cuts him off.

"Elder Snape has certainly worked hard for his degree. We should be respectful towards him. Experts who are willing to devote their time to teaching should be acknowledged."

"Yes... uh, of course. My apologies. Right. Very good. That's all I had anyway, I've always been the short and sweet type?" he ends his sentence as if he were meant to ask something, but forgot.

To stop an awkward pause, you decide to go next, standing up and giving a little wave as you introduce yourself.

"I'm Rei Young. My father's an accountant, and I grew up in Croydon. I haven't really picked a skill specialization yet. It feels like I have my hands full just wrapping my mind around this whole cultivation business."

You sit and kick Roger under the table. He doesn't bother to stand, but still waves.

"Roger Malone. From Leeds. What she said, but I think I'm actually getting on top of things."

Roger is sitting next to the Gryffindor boy - or more accurately, the bowl of sweets - so he goes next.

"Dean Thomas. I got accepted when one of my comics ran out of frame to gossip with the immortal living next door. Probably a good thing. Don't know if that owl would have gotten inside otherwise. I fell asleep in history, but the Elder's a ghastly sort and his raspy voice is just so hard to ignore. That, and running across the rooftops was fun, so I'll probably go for astronomy."

"You know," Roger unwraps a piece of candy, "I think we'll get along just fine."

"Well, you shouldn't sleep in class anyway. I'm Hermione Granger. My parents were quite surprised when my letter came, but I think they made the right choice in sending me here. I'm working through the standard library of technique theory and immersing myself in the rich cultural history of the immortal world. 'Famous ascendants through the ages' is a great primer and I think we should all read through the first ten chapters. It really frames world history in another light."

You make a mental note to look the book up later, but apparently she has different ideas. Reaching into her bag, she pulls out her own notes. While you appreciate a good discussion as much as the next Ravenclaw, the fact that Lisa hasn't had a chance to speak yet is just a little rude, and you feel sorry enough for Justin to step in.

"That sounds fascinating, Hermione, but perhaps we should finish introductions first, and let our host have his say too. Justin did invite us and went through the trouble of getting us snacks."

"Candy is hardly appropriate..." she mumbles under her breath, and thankfully Justin doesn't hear her, giving you a thankful look instead.

Lisa goes last, not mentioning anything you didn't already know, and then the lone Hufflepuff has the floor again.

"Right. Very good. I for one am glad to call such varied and talented individuals my acquaintances. Really, I don't have much else planned for tonight, out of respect for your time. The true reason I wanted to introduce us all however, is a bit more sad. I've had the misfortune of extending my hand in friendship to one Theodore Nott. Mister Nott quickly educated me on the ugly side of cultivator supremacy. I won't repeat what he exposed in polite company."

He starts walking around the table, one hand behind his back like some great orator. If his speech wasn't painfully obviously memorized, he might even pull the look off.

"But he did have a kernel of wisdom. We're in a wholly new world, and helping each other out is only proper. I certainly promise to offer my aid to each of you in simple matters - within reason of course. Our support network isn't nearly as robust as those of our peers who have whole clans of cultivators behind them, and I would change that. And to show my sincerity, I'll reveal the source of my sweets."

"Now you're talking my language." Dean says.

This quip was clearly part of Justin's plan, as he gives a magnanimous nod.

"Two floors beneath the great hall there's a corridor filled with pictures of fruit. Center stage is a cornucopia with pears surrounding it. If you tickle the green one, the tapestry swings open to the kitchen."

"Like, actually tickle? With your finger? Because we've had some... experiences with the local paintings." Lisa asks, and the two of you share a smile.

"You shouldn't bother the kitchen staff for trivial reasons. We get a perfectly healthy and balanced diet at each mealtime, but assembling the courses is clearly a lot of work. Disrupting them isn't a good thing." Hermione says.

"Yes, but... candy!" Roger elbows Dean, and the Gryffindor pulls over another bowl, placing it between the two boys.

You're worried things might get awkward again if you let an argument start, so instead you latch onto Lisa's prompt and start up the story of your adventure. Things flow from there, and by the time the last of the finger sandwiches gets consumed, you've spent the whole evening talking to what you're privately calling the muggleborn faction. While playing the meditator can be tiring at times, you do settle into the role and manage to have a fun and pleasant meeting in the end.

---

You don't really know why, but Halloween is your favorite holiday. Christmas was always a bit sad without a tree, but it wouldn't fit in your home. You don't know anyone who would consider New Years their favorite. Your father said you were too young for Valentine's day. And May Day will always be tainted by the memory of Dandy the Dandelion.

On Halloween however, you and dad would carve a pumpkin and place it on the window. Then you'd get dressed up in all sorts of cool costumes and walk around the neighborhood together, showing off your handiwork. When it got dark, you went back home, said hello to the waiting pumpkin and played games. Your dad was usually far too serious for his own good, but on Halloween he'd bob for apples with you and get all wet.

Well, maybe you know exactly why you like Halloween.

Regardless, as October draws to a close and pumpkins start appearing all over Hogwarts, you're in a great mood. The ghosts of the castle are especially active, and you've heard rumors of them putting on some sort of a show in the great hall. That's not something you want to miss, so you head down a bit earlier, content to waste a single day.

However, just as you sit down, you spot Dean powerwalking into the hall, and making a beeline for you when he sees you.

You've held casual conversations with the people from Justin's little meeting over the weeks, slowly rounding out your circle of acquaintances. You aren't sure if you considered them quite friends yet, but you'd say you're well on your way there.

"Hey, Dean. What's up?"

"Uh... I kind of need your aid. Or, well, not me, but Hermione."

If the constantly quipping Dean is flustered, you better hear this.

"You know how Ron - Ron Weasley, and Draco Malfoy are supposed to have a duel tonight?"

You nod. The Hogwarts rumor mill is a great and terrible thing. You aren't sure if you would attend or just pig out on good food until you could barely waddle to bed, but that's a worry for future Rei.

"So that has Ron pretty nervous. Don't tell him I told you, but anyone can see it. Anyway, Hermione called him out on it, and said the whole thing was barbaric. That he should not go, and that fighting without Elder Quirrel's supervision was moronic. Or so I heard from Lavender."

"Okay? For what it's worth, I think she's mostly right."

"Yeah, well, turns out cultivators don't think like that. Ron snapped back, and I mean really snapped back. I don't know what he said, but Hermione left in tears. Ron's not really a bad guy, and he can say things without meaning them sometimes, especially under pressure. And since I'm kind of the closest Gryffindor to Hermione, he asked me to tell her that he's sorry. Plus I'm worried for her too, you know."

"So go tell her?"

"Yeah, I would, but here's the kicker: she's locked herself in the girls bathroom in the first basement level, western corridor. I can't go in there, I mean slam-bam ritual arrays can't go in there. Could you maybe check and make sure she's okay? I'll talk to Ron some more and meet you here. Help us get this solved before it festers?"

You might love Halloween, and you don't want to miss the feast, but you want your sort-of friend to spend the evening moping alone even less.

"Tell Lisa to save me a spot, will you?"

Thankfully you know where the bathroom Dean mentioned is, and no mystical blockades bar your passage to the perfectly ordinary lavatory. The inside holds a line of sinks on one side and wooden stalls on the other. You're saved from checking each of them individually by a loud hiccup.

"Hermione?"

There's a startled sniffle, but no answer.

"Dean told me you were hurt. Do you want to talk to me?"

She keeps her silence, but you manage to identify that she's in the final stall.

"Well, too bad. I'm not leaving without you."

Perhaps the sorting hat was right to place you in Ravenclaw. You know that bringing up Ron right now won't help matters, but you feel your curiosity getting the better of you.

"You're usually so sure and collected. What did he say to you?"

Making sure there's no water on the floor, you sit down in front of the cubicle. After a minute of silence, Hermione answers.

"He told me I'd never make it past the foot of Mount Tai."

"Well that's just ridiculous. You just completed your early Spiritual realm last week. That's faster than me." There's something deeper going on than just a thoughtless blanket insult.

"No."

"No? You told me how the writings of Elder Arundel suddenly made much more sense. I don't think you'd joke about book knowledge."

"I'd never."

"So why no?"

"Because he's right."

Your first instinct is to deny the statement - it's blatantly false. But your gut tells you Hermione isn't the type of girl to say things without a thesis worthy reason.

"Why do you think that?"

Another silence descends, before the door cracks open just a hair.

"I hate Defense." Hermione whispers, fresh tears streaming down her face.

"Alright. Is that something you want to change about yourself?"

The slice of her that you can see looks at you confusedly.

"Rei, you're not supposed to hate a subject. There's something wrong with me. And I can't even finish the first year of real education."

"I don't think you can't hate a subject," her whisper of "Double negative," brings a soft smile to your face. "That's just silly - there's nothing wrong with you. If there's nothing wrong with you, then it can be okay to hate a subject."

"But I'm me. I snuck to school with an ear infection because I didn't want to miss the test. I can't hate a subject. I love school."

"Okay." You creep closer to her, and she lets you inside, where you take her hand in yours. "Do you remember that chapter by Elder Lestrange, on the nature of change?"

It's a rhetorical question; even though you've known her for only a few weeks, Hermione has a head like an encyclopedia. She nods.

"What was the conclusion you wanted me to reach when you told me to read it?"

"That cultivation is about embracing change."

"But doesn't that mean that every cultivator has things they want to change about themselves?"

You don't give her time to answer and poke holes in your argument, instead you squeeze her hand and bulldoze on.

"The way I see it, you have two options. Either you have to change yourself so that you're okay with hating defense. Or you find a way you can enjoy defense. Whichever one you choose, I'm sure you'll find a solution before you know it. The only way to be wrong is if you're unhappy."

The silence between you is thoughtful, rather than strained. You're not sure if your words reached her, or even if you're actually right, but at least she's thinking about a problem to solve, rather than having an identity crisis.

Eventually you coax her out of the stall, help her get cleaned up and try to leave the bathroom. Keyword being 'try'. When you open the door, you're met with an eye-watering stench and a grey-blue limb the size of a young tree trunk.

"What's that?" Hermione whispers, half a step behind you.

Whatever it is, it's got good hearing. You stumble back, kicking the door closed just as an angry roar almost slams into you. The next moment, the heavy oaken door cracks and buckles inward, barely remaining in its frame. Somebody screams.

The two of you scramble away from the entrance, even as more of the wood cracks under the onslaught. It seems the giant thing is determined to get at you, and you doubt it's friendly.

The inventory of your options is depressingly short. Your wand is still in your robe pocket, but the best you can do with that is gentle whips and soft blasts of force. A passage from Elder Binns comes to mind: 'What do you do when life does not give you lemons?'

"Oh god, what do we do?" Hermione is deathly pale, although you doubt you're any better.

You have one plan, but even by the standards of your failed plans, its a bad one.

"Listen, I'm going to distract it. When I do, you need to run and get help. The great hall is full of people."

"Wait, Rei!"

You don't give any of the parties involved time for second thoughts. With a final punch, the giant manages to defeat the door, and you run headfirst towards danger.
Your timing is nearly true. You were aiming to pass directly between the giant's legs, but instead of slipping between punches, you get grazed by its fist. Only a desperate pivot saves you from getting squished against a wall, and a complete miracle enables you to stay on your feet, even if there's a sharp pain in your collarbone.
Brandishing your wand, you channel pure Qi over your head, pointedly not looking up. Judging by the roar, you struck true - and learned that the thing is truly humanoid. You've certainly caught its attention.
Emboldened by your success, you rush past the giant, feinting to the left before dashing right. Your maneuver causes it to start turning one way, only to try and follow you with the other half of its body. The result is an off-balance tangle of limbs, and you whip your wand at his sole supporting ankle with a shrill scream.

The mass of its body, already twisting the leg, continues its momentum, even as your blasts force the foot to fold in the other direction. Then gravity takes over and with a painful looking lurch, the giant tumbles down. Hermione chooses her moment better than you did, and slips out of the bathroom, the sound of her shoes beating a tactical retreat muffled by the snarling of the troll.

At least you think it's a troll.
Your momentary distraction nearly proves fatal. Rather than try to get up like you expect it to, a limb holding a gnarled branch strikes out, lightning fast. If the first hit was an accidental graze, then this one certainly puts things in perspective. Your breath is pushed out of your lungs as you go helplessly flying down the corridor. You're pretty sure you're floating a rib, and the fact that you land on the side that didn't get smacked is of little comfort.
The troll swings again, but it's clearly just flailing around, one of its rubbery limbs caught in the doorway to the bathroom and trapping the other leg beneath it. The hit goes over your head, and although your whole world is pain, you weakly push after the club, imparting it with extra momentum from your wand. Momentum the giant wasn't prepared for, and the swing carries on right against its other arm. Unfortunately you don't hear a crack of bone.
At the moment, you think you'd trade the pain in your side for a spinal cord injury, but your legs have a better survival instinct than you do, and despite the black spots floating in your vision, you manage to scramble to your feet. Since there's no world in which you can go with the original plan of 'run', your only hope is to keep your enemy down.

Usually you'd try to think of some way to turn things to your benefit, to even the playing field. Usually you're not trying to deal with a troll. There's really very little you can do, so you have to do what you can and hope for the best. Squeezing your wand even harder, you start swinging. Lashing, poking, smashing and cutting motions translate to blasts of force against the troll. The roars redouble, but it's no closer to getting up, and you're backing away as much as you can to avoid another surprise hit.
Something you're doing must be working, or you just get lucky and manage to hit a weak spot. You think you saw a beady eye staring at you from beneath an armpit, and you poke your wand towards it with particular relish.
Finally, it manages to free its stuck foot, but only by tearing the whole doorframe loose from the mortar. You're starting to understand the patterns for your improvised wand movements, so you seize the opportunity. Loose masonry responds to your call as you desperately swipe your wand from the damaged doorway towards the troll. Bricks go flying, pelting the giant with more substantial objects than your indirect blasts of force.

Despite having managed to sort out its limbs, it curls in on itself, protecting its head rather than trying to get at you.
Still, you show no mercy. When the bricks stop flying, you return to your previous method, this time augmented by occasional shards of debris which sporadically follow your lashes. Only the sharp crack of the club it used breaking in two clears your fugue. The troll remains huddled on the floor, its body limp. The still spreading stench of its breath attests to the fact that it's merely unconscious.

From the other end of the corridor, you hear distant shouts and the sound of running feet. You have time for one last thought before you join your opponent on the ground.

"Those better not be more trolls."

---

Waking up in the stark white light of the hospital wing is much less pleasant than the cool blues and bronzes of the Ravenclaw dormitory. Thankfully it's the last day of your recovery, and while your entire left side still looks like a bad attempt at military camouflage, you've been declared healthy enough to resume your cultivation after just three days in purgatory.

The only important event you missed was the awarding of points, but you knew that you weren't in going to win. Plus Lisa comes around to fill you in on the key details anyway.

Harry Potter blasted everyone out of the water, as it's revealed that he's nearly completed the late stage of spiritual cultivation in just two months. The general consensus amongst the student body is that he probably had advanced training when he was hidden away by Ancestor Dumbledore and was merely suppressing his power so as to not crush the dreams of other students too hard at first. As expected, he took three points total for Gryffindor.

For physical cultivation, there's some good news. Susan cinched the top spot, rocketing to the middle realm. From the few times you went outside to train, her red hair was always visible on the runs. You're glad her herculean push paid off.

In herbology, your house dominates, with Padma bringing in the top spot.

Potions goes to Slytherin, the Malfoy scion apparently not too troubled by the now postponed duel. Charms is also taken by the green house, Theodore Nott claiming that award, much to Justin's dismay, as Lisa tells it.

Still, the loss for the Muggleborn faction is softened by the fact that Hermione has been crowned the champion in transformation.

Lastly, for astronomy you had hopes for Terry to take the top spot, as you had seen him poring over maps of leylines, but he was edged out by a Slytherin called Gregory Goyle.

While you appreciate your friends coming by to keep you company, mostly you're just staring at the ceiling, bored out of your skull. Three days is plenty to mull over every aspect of your fight.

Pick 1 takeaway from your experience:

-[][Troll] Berserk

-[][Troll] Fast tactician

-[][Troll] Rest and relaxation

Pick 3 training actions, you may pick the same one multiple times:

-[][Training] Spiritual cultivation
-[][Training] Physical cultivation
-[][Training] Herbology
-[][Training] Potions
-[][Training] Charms
-[][Training] Transfiguration
-[][Training] Astronomy

Not all of your time is spent on the path to enlightenment, your peers also demand some of your attention, and when you one day look back, some events would stand out. Pick 3 1 social actions (training for the Quidditch match against Hufflepuff and playing the game itself consume the rest of your time):

-[][Social] It is absolutely essential that you see Mandy's little friend again... Err, that you see Mandy again. Yes, you just want to ask her more about pet care, maybe even get a familiar of your own. No ulterior motives here.
-[][Social] This talk of portents and omens has got you curious. Divination, you distantly recall, is an elective after you've started forming your core, but surely you can at least glean a basic understanding from somewhere.
-[][Social] Given how often magical portraits seem to come up in your brief time at Hogwarts, perhaps you should learn more about them. A tiny part of your mind also whispers that it would be cool to bring your doodles to life.
-[][Social] You've had enough time to settle in, and you still remember the girl who shared your mother's name from the sorting ceremony. Locate one Daphne Greengrass and introduce yourself.
-[][Social] Your little end table at the hospital was filled with well-wishing cards from your friends, but one stood out from the rest. You don't think you've ever talked to Tracey Davis before. Go and thank her for the sentiment and try to find out why she cared.
-[][Social] You're proud to say that you've got friends in most of the houses, and even more glad to see that they're getting along. Hannah, Susan and Justin are all eating together, and you decide to join them for a day out.
-[][Social] Ron never did get to apologize, so when he marches up to you, Dean and Hermione at the library, flanked by a trio of older redheads, you expect it to be quite the affair.
-[][Social] The only Ravenclaw you haven't properly met yet is Sue Li, and you're determined to fix that. Track her down and gain some insight into the mystery that is Sue.
-[][Social] Write-in

Optional point expenditure
-[][Points] Write-in

Please vote in plan format.