Hogwarts Sect of Witchcraft and Wizardry

---

It wasn't that long ago when you couldn't feel any Qi at all, but now it seems a lifetime ago. Qi is everywhere, swirling in eddies around doorways and windows, pooling in the creases of your bedsheet, trailing after every disciple you focus on. And with every breath you take, more and more of it flows into you, settling somewhere adjacent to your diaphragm. Inhaling as deep as you can and tapping a rhythm on your tummy, you can almost imagine it swishing around like a curious ball of fluff, prodding your fingers and dancing to an unheard beat.

Of course, you don't need to imagine it, and you even have detailed proof that it's always been doing that, you've simply been too blind to see. The floating blueish you-shaped web of lights restarts her motion in front of you in the little attic space you've sequestered yourself in, the jade necklace clasped in your hands as you sit under the rafters beneath a skylight.

The dance of your Qi, or rather the recording of your match brightens and dims as she - you - instinctively braces her limbs for a block or takes a momentary breather, drawing in more ambient energy. The network is incredibly detailed, almost too much so. If you remember your anatomy correctly, you're looking at a wire mesh of your organs. While some are just plain cool, your heart a blazing center cradled by your bellowing lungs, others, like your intestines, are gross, and although you acknowledge you're being silly, you're glad no one else is around to see... well, some other pieces of you.

Still, you've already resolved to keep the unassuming necklace as a charm of good luck. It's a simple thing, a thin, dark string attached to a sea-green smooth square of rock about the size of your thumb pad. Thankfully you can even adjust the size of the projection it casts, and shrunk down as small as possible, it's more like a doll shaped solid light, all detail washed away as it leaps and dashes in place. Certainly the coolest piece of jewelry you own.

Of course, that'll happen once you've extracted every ounce of knowledge you can glean. You cut the image for a moment to restart it from the beginning, and observe it once more, intent to figure out exactly why the Qi moves as it does. A spot in your right palm flares especially bright, rising in intensity with each catch and pass. It stands out as different, and you cast your mind back to September, when Elder McGonagall briefly mentioned nodes in your Qi network - meridians, you recall the term she used. It's as good an explanation as any, but for now, you have other goals.

You hope that if the entire world is immersed in the mystical energy, understanding it will help you understand the universe. Naturally, that is easier said than done. Sometimes, your shadow's actions guide the Qi, sometimes the flow seems to predate your motion, almost dragging you along like some arcane sentience unstuck from time.

Spotting the flows in the present is much harder, your own senses nowhere near as detailed as an artefact from the Elders, but you still do catch similar exchanges between what you want to do, and what you thought you were going to do anyways. Especially now that you're on the lookout for it, you're starting to suspect that what you previously would have called your instincts or hunches is little more than your innate sense of Qi reacting to changes in the environment yet to happen.

You find that the best way to observe the phenomenon is to not expect it, which complicates things somewhat. It's exactly the kind of contradictory thinking that Elder Binns subtly encouraged, but you still end up constantly distracted as you prowl the castle like a bloodhound sniffing for prey. You find the most success during mealtimes, when plates with food appear without rhyme or reason, except that you seem to always be ready to grab another helping or discard the bits you don't want out of mind. More than once you poke yourself in the face with a fork, much to the amusement of other Ravenclaws, but the teasing is good-natured, and you can easily laugh along, pudding dripping down your cheek, even as you catalogue another hint about how the Qi inside you reacts to the outside world.

Day by day, your approach starts to pay off. If the first breakthrough was realizing just how prevalent Qi is, and the second had to do with the way it reacted to outside, physical stimuli, then the next thing you're picking up is how it seems to act on a metaphysical level.

The first time you notice something strange is when you accidentally stub your toe, annoyance bubbling up, only to be replaced by confusion as minute flows of energy rush to the site, half cool, half hot.

You've mostly been thinking of Qi as something you could see, but that's merely a crude analogy. In truth, its a sense all to itself. Much like the life-sized portrait of a cannon by the staircase could scare the living daylights out of you when it was fired, despite the picture having no sound enchanted on, the shaking of the view translated extremely well between audio and visual. Likewise, Qi encompassed all the senses.

Part of the energy almost seems to soothe your smarting toe, while the other half, drawn from the outside, swirled around the oaken stool leg, whether in rage or malicious glee, you weren't sure.

This opens your eyes to a whole new layer of the world. The soft, contemplative Qi that flows around Lisa as she sits by the fireplace, poring over pages of charm arrays, the protective way it cradles little Billy hidden in Mandy's robes. The aesthetic lines which float over your own notebook as you sketch a view of the Quidditch pitch covered in a layer of fluffy snow.

Some of the books you've been devouring at an ever-increasing rate spoke of Qi as the life energy or the soul of the world. You thought they were being fanciful in their flowery language, but now you're starting to suspect they were much more literal than you expected. The deeper into the rabbit hole that is Qi you dig, the bigger it's mysterious promise seems to loom.

With a chuckle at your thought, you log it in your meditation journal. 'Today, I glimpsed the foot of mount Tai.'

---

With the holidays approaching, you find your thoughts drawn to home and family. And then to a blonde haired girl you've occasionally seen poring over tomes in the library during your own studies. Daphne Greengrass used to hang out with Pansy Parkinson, and a rotating group of hanger-ons, but more and more often you catch her seated alone.

With your newly awakened sense of Qi, it's good training to figure out when she's about to finish her studies and time your approach accordingly.

"Sister Greengrass?" you give a slight bow, catching her at the end of a stretch.

"Yes?"

You weight the direct approach and an oblique one, deciding in favor of the latter. "I'm Rei Young. Someone very dear to me shared your surname, and I was wondering if you knew them."

"This one apologizes, I do not recognize the Young clan, but the Greengrasses are a very spread out family. You'll have to be a bit more specific, sect sister."

"No apology is necessary, I'm not part of a clan, my father's a mortal."

The polite smile on her face remains just as polite and just as fake as it was before. "Then that person was not a relative of mine. While we'd like to lay sole claim to the name, we, of course, don't intervene in mortal business to make it so."

"No, she wasn't a mortal. In fact she even went to Hogwarts, a bit over twenty years ago. Would you know of any other clans with that name?"

"May this one ask who exactly you're talking about, sect sister?"

You make sure to focus on the Qi surrounding her, "Irene Greengrass, my mother."

It's a subtle thing, one you're sure you'd have missed last month, but you get the feeling you're a realm above her in spirit, and reading the emotions of Qi is something she can't do yet. She recognizes the name. Alas, your own facial expression betrays that you saw her slip-up, and that, she doesn't miss.

"My mother had no siblings," she hisses.

"But you know of her."

"This conversation is over, sect sister."

She stands and rushes past you, but while she can barely control her face, the aura of hurt and betrayal she exudes leaves a visceral taste in your mouth. You're left staring at a cluttered table, the library otherwise silent. You were hoping she'd know of her, you were prepared to accept that she doesn't, you feared she'd be hateful of her, that she'd be a blood purist. Whatever this was, you had not accounted for.

---

Daphne might have said the conversation was over, but for you, the mystery just deepened. If you are going to find out more, you think you'll need a better understanding of both her, and her environment. The Slytherins largely keep to themselves, but as luck would have it, you have an excuse to track down another one of their number.

Finding Tracey Davis proves to be a bit harder, but the girl still needs to eat. You get up at the crack of dawn and bring your sketchbook, determined to camp out at the great hall for her, only to nearly collide with the girl as she's leaving right as you arrive.

"Sect sister Young," she nods to you and makes to pass.

"Sister Davis, wait, I was just looking for you."

A calculating gleam enters her eye as she considers you for a moment. "Yes?"

"Are you in a hurry? I wanted to thank you for your well-wishes, but I'd also like to talk."

"Nothing that can't wait an hour. Shall we?"

You oblige, and follow her to a nearby empty classroom.

"So," she leans on the teacher's desk, "what did you wish to discuss?"

"I hope I don't come off as too rude, but I was curious why you wrote a card to me. I don't think we've talked before today?"

She nods, "We haven't. I just wanted to make a positive impression on someone who's clearly powerful."

You're sensing an 'and', so you wait.

"And I could do with some powerful friends. Or barring that, acquaintances."

Well, you're hardly one to turn down an offer of friendship. "Sure, we can hang out sometime."

Tracey shoots you a wry grin of her own. "Not quite what I had in mind, although I wouldn't mind that either."

"Oh?"

"I understand you grew up on the mortal side of half-blood."

You let your smile dim and raise an expectant eyebrow at her, but she waves your warning away. "Just establishing facts for context. I take it this means you have no idea about Slytherin internal politics or even the exceptionality of our year in general."

There are some things you've picked up, but you can't say you've really grasped the immortal world at large, so you give her a shake of your head.

Instead of elaborating, she sighs. "Look, I'm not really all that good at the whole 'cunning' side of Slytherin, just ambitious. If you associate with me, I'll be using that, but I'm telling you upfront about it."

"Use what, how?" you ask.

"Second youngest quidditch player in a century. Takes on a mountain troll with just the first realm of cultivation-"

"I didn't break through until last month for Defense."

"-without any milestones under her belt and wins." Tracey seamlessly continues, "You have connections in all the houses - yours truly representing Slytherin - which is rarer than you think. People are talking about you, whether good or bad, it makes you important and by proxy, those you associate with, interesting. I could leverage that interest for myself, and I could teach you how to make it work for yourself as well."

You take a moment to digest what she's saying, and she mistakes your contemplation for hesitation.

"I'll even throw in a freebie lesson right now, if you've got some time."

Well, as a self-respecting Ravenclaw, that's an offer you can't refuse. "Alright, as you said, I've got nothing that can't wait an hour. What are you going to teach me, sister?"

She smiles a genuine smile as she props herself on the table fully. "We'll come back to proper honorific use later. How about I explain my earlier comment about our year being exceptional?"

To be honest, you were hoping she'd say that, and nod with a grin.

"So, normally the pure- and half-bloods at Hogwarts are just clan members, dozens of steps removed from the clan heads and Wizengamot representatives."

"Like yourself?"

"Like myself. My mother's father was a mortal who lived at the turn of the last century, and most of the Davis's are located in Ireland. Suffice to say that Lord Davis probably doesn't know I exist."

You might not be privy to the internal situation of Slytherin, but you also aren't born yesterday. A foreign half-blood doesn't seem like a natural fit for the Slytherin image. Your thoughts are plain on your face, as she chuckles before continuing.

"Yeah. In a normal year, that'd be fine, I would just slip into the background, but as the Heavens will it, the future Lord Malfoy is in attendance. As the scion of a clan, the direct heir, he naturally draws hanger-ons to himself, and his bloc must be the only one around. Since I don't exactly see eye-to-eye with him on select subjects, I'd rather not fold into his orbit."

"Subjects like?"

She sighs, "Draco isn't... as simple as I'm making it seem. But some of the others are. Pansy and Theodore will have me sleeping with one eye open if I completely alienate them. The only way to avoid that is to stand on my own two feet. An unaffiliated faction, if you will."

"That's not alienating them?"

"Well, I could go to Lord Potter; or more realistically, Lady Bones. Which ties into the other part of my comment."

You restrain your urge to take notes. You'd heard others refer to the two by such titles often enough, but never in a situation where you could ask them why.

"If most disciples are distant branch members, and a scion is rare, having a Lord attend Hogwarts is almost unheard of. That there are three of them... Well, we can talk about the last war some other time."

"So what makes them 'lords'?" you can't help yourself any more.

Tracey smirks, "A lord is the head of a clan. In Britain, that also means they get to vote in the Wizengamot, and control centuries of stockpiled resources. Lord Potter's case is simple. He is the last living Potter in the mortal realm, so while his power is absolute, it's also quite limited with no kinsmen to call upon."

"I know Susan has an aunt, though."

"Yes, Lady Bones' aunt is the chief judge of the immortal court of justice, and the acting head of clan Bones until her niece reaches the Nascent Soul stage herself. But since Susan was already born when the main branch was killed, Lady Bones remains the ultimate head of the clan, and she could, in theory, dictate which laws get proposed in Wizengamot."

That seems like a lot of power for an eleven-year old, and you have trouble reconciling it with the image of the smiling redhead you sort of know.

"You mentioned three lords?"

"Lord Longbottom's case is even more complicated. The previous Lord Longbottom isn't dead in the medical sense, nor ascended, but he's still unfit to lead the clan. From what I understand, it was a particularly heinous scheme at the end of the war to sow confusion at a critical moment. By their traditions, Lord Longbottom is both the lord and acting head at the same time, and Augusta Longbottom - his aunt - is the acting, acting head. You'd have to get more details from Lord Longbottom himself, but suffice it to say that legislature can get ground to a halt in such circumstances."

That seems like a lot of detail to know. "You've certainly done your research."

She laughs, "Ambitious, remember? I do mean it when I say I want to build an unaffiliated faction in Slytherin."

It's at this moment that your stomach decides to remind everyone that while Tracey got to eat before you, you've yet to grab a bite. You feel your cheeks heat up, and the other girl stands up with a chuckle.

"Right. I got a bit carried away. Think it over, and come sit with me in public if you're still interested in being friends."

With that she saunters out, and you follow shortly after. Hopefully breakfast is still being served.

---

Pristine snow continues to mount all around the castle, nearly blocking off some of the side exits, and burying all your favorite running trails. But you have a wholly different set of problems to deal with. Namely - presents.

The monetary system of the immortal world remains a mystery to you. The single day you spent at Diagon Alley only gave you a bare minimum of understanding and that's barely enough to know that the system is different from what you're used to. Instead of pence and pounds, the currency is called spirit stones, and you recall three different denominations.

Knuts are tiny clear baubles barely the size of a fly, but you also don't recall getting much for them - perhaps a pen or a scoop of ice cream. The more common currency are the Sickles. Those are more in line with mortal coins, albeit thicker and with a muted glow within. Most of your books were priced in those. Lastly, there's the Galleon. Brightly shining marbles about the size of small apples, which paid for your magically lightweight trunk, with change left over from two.

Thankfully - though you make sure not to say that out loud - even immortals aren't immune from spam mail and Christmas catalogues. Asking around, you do manage to find enough booklets with something for everybody you intend to gift presents to.

The issue is that you've had no need for money at Hogwarts so far. You're sure there's some system for exchanging mortal money, given that muggleborn students clearly have magical supplies of their own. Likewise, you know you're not actually destitute, still recalling the neat stacks of spirit stones in the basement of Gringotts, but you have no idea how to access that wealth.

What you have, is house points.

As such, you once more find yourself knocking on the door to Elder Flitwick's workshop, and once more, his jovial voice bids you to enter. The room is as orderly cluttered as last time, but the Elder himself is actually seated for a change, small half-moon spectacles resting on his nose as he goes through a stack of papers.

"Miss Young, back already? How can I help one of my Ravenclaws today?"

"Honored Elder, this one was wondering if... perhaps I could trade one of my points for fifty seven Sickles and thirteen Knuts?"

The diminutive man in front of you blinks.

"I'm sorry, we Elders can get lost in thought. Could you repeat that please?"

You blush, the fears that this was a bad idea rising back to the surface. You're completely sure the Elder heard exactly what you said.

"As a loan, of course! I just wanted to get some presents for my friends."

Before he can completely shut you down, a banging noise can be heard from the chimney and fireplace behind him. With a puff of soot, an elderly man falls down the shaft and onto the hearth.

"Hoh-ho, what's all this then?"

Your mouth is probably hanging open, but you're too gobsmacked to check. The man is dressed in a red robe with thick fluffy white linings, his ivory beard wrapped around a green belt. On his head is a similarly themed floppy hat, tipped by a tiny brass bell. The old man's face however, looks suspiciously familiar, his piercing blue eyes locked onto Flitwick's.

A moment passes between the two men before your head of house smiles and nods, and the newcomer turns to you.

"Fear not, young mistress! Good disciples get candy," he says, and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a small blue sack tied with gold ribbon. "And none of this talk of debt, 'tis the season of giving, after all!"

He tosses the bag to you, lets out another deep belly laugh and leaps back into the flue with a shout of "North Pole!"

Elder Flitwick merely shakes his head and turns back to his papers. "If that is all, Miss?"

"Was that... Ancestor-"

"Now, now, Santa is one of the oldest cultivators around," he winks at you, "Allow them a bit of fun."

You leave the office in dazed disbelief, but fifty seven Sickles and thirteen Knuts richer, sans one point.

Lisa gets a box of chocolates with each treat wrapped in a replica of a famous painting. Probably not a gift meant for preteens, but you know that she'll appreciate the art more than the sweets.

Mandy gets a miniature barber's kit. Considering that you got it out of a magazine advertising dollhouses, you can guess it's meant as a realistic prop rather than the utility toolkit you expect it to serve as, but the text assures you it's entirely authentic.

You thought about getting Hermione a book, but knowing how much she reads, you decide not to risk it, opting instead for a quill enchanted to make ink smell like spearmint. You definitely can't stand the constant reminder of toothpaste, but she can't get enough of the stuff in candy form, so hopefully she'll appreciate her notes smelling minty fresh.

For your Quidditch team, you get them blue and bronze scarves designed to always flap in a non-existent wind. You're sure at least the 'Yin-Yang Duo' would appreciate the look.

For the rest of your acquaintances - mostly your housemates and members of the muggleborn faction - you simply go for a box of Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, the "Good Kind" variant, with disgusting tastes removed for the holiday season.

Finally, for your father, you eventually decide on a set of Woolly Pixie fur slippers and a self-adjusting tie emblazoned with a subtle Hogwarts crest.

When you wake on Christmas morning to a mountain of gifts neatly stacked on the foot of your bed, you have to admit once again that magic is awesome. There's plenty of candy, and you can indulge in your curiosity by trading pieces with the other girls in your dorm, each similarly endowed with presents.

There's also a new set of pencils and notebooks, a book on mortal yoga, a whetstone and two different sets of oils, plus protective biker gear and a pair of thick leathery gloves, and a mechanical wristwatch you asked from your dad.

However, once you've dug through the rest of the gifts, one final little box remains, with a note written in a handwriting you don't recognize. The swirls and loops merely say - 'Use it well.'

-[][Boon] A wet candle

-[][Boon] An inky bottle

-[][Boon] An especially shiny Galleon

---

Before the new year, there's one last official function to attend - the awarding of house points. You're starting to realize that the system is probably not the most fair to those who are struggling. Not only is success rewarded once, but people who win early can leverage their increased capabilities to keep winning, if they properly apply themselves. That said, you yourself are an excellent counter-example.

If you were forced to give an honest assessment of your results at the start of December, you might have admitted to some worry about falling behind. Now, however, as Qi swirls in the great hall, tiny snowflakes falling from the enchanted ceiling, you don't even feign surprise as you're called up to the front, where Elder Flitwick pokes Elder Binns with a shudder to remind the ghost to assign you your point, then gives you another two for overall progress, bringing your total up to five.

In Defense, Malfoy gets called on stage, striding up next to you without a single glance your way. Herbology however sees Lady Bones in front of her head of house with a smile, followed shortly by Hermione in front of a perpetually glowering Elder Snape.

For Charms, Lisa lets out a sad sigh as Millicent Bulstrode gets the top spot over her, while Transfiguration gets called for Potter. Finally, Dean brings the total in favor of Gryffindor with a win in Astronomy and the two boys share a smile.

And then it's time to face a new year.

---

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 social actions:
-[][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] 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] Terry has heard that you know the secret to accessing the kitchen. He's promised you cookies if you take him and another of his fellow chefs to it, with implications of more bounties if you help them out further.
-[][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] Hurricane Chang has decided to spend an afternoon with you, and the topic of the day is obviously going to be Quidditch.
-[][Social] You're invited for tea with Lavender Brown - she says it'll be a small gathering, but that it should be fun.
-[][Social] It's been a while since your last adventure with Lisa, and you're feeling the itch of wanderlust.
-[][Social] Tracey Davis offered to be your friend... or was it the other way around? Regardless, you wouldn't mind another lesson on immortal customs, and her straightforward manner can be refreshing.
-[][Social] Hogwarts has a dueling club for Qi Condensation and up disciples. You can't participate, but surely Elder Flitwick won't mind if you just come as an audience member.
-[][Social] The Hogwarts Express rides for London, to let muggleborn students visit their families for a few days. Of course you're on board.
-[][Social] Write-in

As a result of your improving cultivation, you have 1 free action you may spend on either the training or the social category as you see fit.

Optional point expenditure (you have 5 points):
-[][Points] Write-in