Four Sect Alliance (Harry Potter AU; Xianxia inspired)

In one world the supernatural elements were not magic and so the Wizarding World never existed.
That doesn't mean that something more overt didn't take its place despite some familiar faces.

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It could be said that Mr. and Mrs. Dursley, of number four Privet Drive, were quite normal. Indeed they would assure you that they were the last people ever to be involved in the profound mysteries, the great sects, or even cultivation at all and, indeed, any stranger who asked about such things would be assured that they didn't hold with such things at all.

Mr Vernon Dursley was a large and beefy man, sturdily built but not precisely fat. All too often there was a gleam of anger in his eyes at some petty annoyance or another, but nobody had known him to be violent. If he happened to have a habit of running a finger over his upper lip at such moments, as though playing with a mustache which was no longer there, then nobody really commented on it.

Mrs Petunia Dursley was, in contrast, a thin blonde woman who seemed years younger than her husband. It would have been a scandalous thing in Privet Drive, or perhaps further afield within the small English town of Little Whinging where they lived, if not for the fact that Petunia Dursley had a nose for scandal of any type. Those who had brought up the apparent disparity of ages had soon found their failings, imagined or otherwise, becoming common knowledge.

No, neither Mr. nor Mrs. Dursley were known to have any truck with the unusual. Like most of the other inhabitants of Little Whinging they had no truck with the unnatural.

"Just bloody well leave it to the sects and the cultivators." Vernon Dursley was known to say to his cohorts and co-workers at the company in which he worked. "They're the ones who know about such things. I pay my taxes and tithes so the government can damn well point them at the problem."

This was generally considered the wisest course of action, but the degree to which Vernon was vehement about it did cause a few to wonder about the cause. One salesman mused that perhaps Vernon had been traumatically attacked by a Spirit Beast while one of the supervisors of the metalworks held the opinion that obviously Vernon had been too curious as a child and run afoul of one of the formations protecting wherever he had grown up.

The wife of one had once inquired about this to Petunia.

Nobody else was quite sure what Petunia's response had actually been, but nobody desired to hear it enough to risk the shakes and nightmares which had plagued the overly quizzical woman for days afterwards.

Yet when Mr. and Mrs Dursley woke up on a dull grey day when our story starts they lay there, staring out the window at an overcast sky, and knew that the peace that they worked so hard to gain would soon be intruded upon.

"Do you want me to handle it by myself, pet?" Vernon asked in a shaky voice. "You don't have to… deal with it at all if you don't want to."

There was a long silence as Petunia seemed to consider the question before she steeled herself, depriving herself of the luxury of cowardice.

"No. I'm not going to abandon you about this." She told her husband as she rolled onto her side to look at him, clutching his hand as if trying to draw strength from it. "If someone comes then they won't respect you, not at all. 'Just another muggle.' That's what they'd think and then they'd ask questions."

Vernon turned to look at his wife then gently stroked his thumb over her hand in return.

"I'll deal with the freak though." He said firmly, the gleam which others took for anger flashing in his eyes, "You just have to be there to say what you need to say. Maybe they'll go away if we ask them too."

The two looked at each other then shared a hollow laugh.

"She died, Vernon." Petunia said, tears glimmering in her own eyes, "I loved her so much, more than anything else, and she left me behind then they killed her. Most days I can't bare to look at that… that thing or else I'm sure that I'd demand to know why it cost my sister her life and soul!"

Vernon said nothing in return, just rubbing her knuckles and steadfastly ignoring how his hand was turning white in her grip, but finally began to pull away. Petunia let him and watched as he stood, drinking in the sight of the muscled form which so many mistook for fat when he was clothed.

"We'll get through this, love," He told her as he began to dress, "Don't you worry. We'll get through this together and Dudley will be fine."

Vernon turned away, making a show of straightening his tie as the mention of their son in relation to this brought fear to his normally strong wife's eyes. He could never stand to see her cry.

There was silence in the bedroom as he finished dressing then Vernon flashed her a brief smile of reassurance before he left the room. The floorboards creaked slightly under his immaculately polished shoes as they took his weight and as he descended the stairs each footstep was a solid thump.

"Wake up!" He bellowed as the treads protested the impact of his weight. "Wake up you lazy freak! We've got to talk so get yourself dressed and ready, presentable like."

From the direction of Dudley Dursley's bedroom there was a muffled cry of protest ("For Heaven's sake, dad, it's half five!") at the yells, but they had their desired effect. Beneath the stairs, in the cupboard which should have housed brushes and brooms, twin emerald eyes opened blearily.

Vernon's hand hit the door to the cupboard, pounding on it and causing the individual inside to suddenly be quite awake, "I said get your arse up. Now!"

The eldest Dursley flicked up the latch on the door, a habit when both knew that the fourth member of the household had long since learned how to jiggle it open from the inside, then stormed through to the dining room.

In the Dursley household the kitchen was where chores were assigned and the lounge was where casual conversations, few that they were, took place. The dining room, however, indicated that something Formal and Important was going to be said and such things were Never Good.

Inside the cupboard a small child bit thier lip, not quite tasting blood, and hurried to get dressed before Uncle Vernon became too impatient. He wasn't the sort to hit a child, having once given a memorably rant about those who 'used their bloody fists instead of their brains', but there were other ways that he could express his anger.

"Freak!" The child heard Vernon below, his voice a deep and ominous rumble.

"Coming, Uncle Vernon!"


At the corner of Privet Drive something resembling a cat sat on the wall.

A cat was not such an unusual thing to see in Little Whinging as cats would go going where they wished and general do as they pleased. Even the way in which there seemed to be a gleam of intelligence in its eyes was not such a strange thing. After all Madam Figg. who lived on Privet Drive, was known to breed cats as pets and supposedly for other purposes.

Few people cared to ask the unaffiliated cultivator what those purposes supposedly were. This was likely due to how many had suffered through one of Figg's hours long 'explanations' about her 'darlings' and few could tolerate quite so many pictures of cats and cups of bitter tea.

The cat looked up abruptly, as though hearing something, and stared at a spot where nothing seemed to be. Several long seconds passed as nothing visible changed then a soft rumble seemed to pass through the area, shaking a few petals from roses in a nearby garden and causing the adjacent lamp post to sway slightly.

Then, with no more warning than that, a man was simply there so suddenly that it was as if he had popped out of the ground between one eyeblink and the next.

If this had been another man then an observer might have thought that he stepped from around lamp post, straightened from behind a wall, or otherwise have just been hidden from sight until that moment. However this was no lesser man who could be overlooked. He was almost twice as tall as a normal man and at least five times as wide. This was no natural height and, despite the way that his thick black beard was tied into two bunches and his long hair was tied back into braids, there was a sense of wildness about him.

One hand which was large enough to engulf a grown man's head rested lightly against the wall as he seemed to try to steady himself. He shook his head once as if to clear it then spoke in a low grumbling voice.

"Heavens help me, I hate that bloody formation." He complained, "Can't manage a nice sensible way to travel, can't let me just run the damn distance, but they got the time to stuff me through that thing. An' I'll have to use it again tomorrow too."

Whatever weakness had seized the man passed quickly and, after a brief glance at the lamp post to confirm that the indentations left by his fingers weren't too noticeable, he straightened.

"Thanks fer anchoring this end, lady." He said to the cat, speaking to it as though it could truly understand his words, "I can make me own way back so if you want to head off yerself?"

The tabby looked back at the giant of a man, the markings around its eyes giving the impression of spectacles as it peered at him, then twitched and flicked its tail once.

"Hey, don't be goin' and bein' like that at me." He protested, "I'm not the one who got us going to all these ruddy places. You want to only have ta go in estates, Hogsmede, and places like that then you can get them who live there having more kids. Then we'd not have ta be chasin' down initiates with potential."

The cat continued to look unimpressed, but he just snorted back at her.

"I'da thought you'd not mind this one so much." He commented then, as she started to stand, added, "It's the Potter spawn we got here."

He chuckled when she froze in place then explained as she started to wash herself, "Yeah, thought that might make it different. Hope there's someun about this one to make up for what happened with Lily and James. Losing one of them was bad enough, but two Seventh degree cultivators in exchange for a kid who might not be anywhere as good? Real poor trade there even if they took 'Lord' Whatshisface with 'em."

There was a pause where a response to that could have been, but the giant man answered it as if he had heard someone speaking.

"Lots of people do want to see the little 'un though." He admitted grudgingly, "Like most of Ravenclaw'd want to get their claws on the tyke and diggin' around. Can't really blame 'em though. Not a lot of counters for the Forbidden Techniques around and one which'd protect someun' not yourself? Right rare."

The man frowned suddenly and irritably flicked a hand toward the cat. Its fur only ruffled for a moment, but something unseen silently scored the brickwork on which it sat and shredded a harmless bush in the garden beyond.

"Be off with ye!" He exclaimed, his expression darkening, "I know me duty to the sect, to Hogwarts, to Dumbledore! I ain't gonna hurt a hair on the brat's hard and I'll show 'em what they need to know. Lily and James paid the sponsorship in advance so, even if they ain't here, now, it's gonna be better than sink or swim."

"Well, a little better." He corrected himself a moment later, "Everyone has to put in the effort, don't they."

The cat, which had stilled when the man had become briefly enraged, visibly relaxed and whatever unheard words passed between them seemed to appease the man.

"Yeah, that's okay." He remarked as the last of his anger fading as quickly as it had appeared, "Just keep in mind that I'm as loyal as you. Ye might be the great Senior of Transfiguration, but I am still a Master of Beasts and you shouldn't be forgettin' that."

Another short silence and the man guffawed.

"I weren't meaning it that way, lady, you know that!" He said while trying, and failing to hold back further laughter, "And I know you weren't meaning it. Now, I can be handlin' the rest so be off with you. Get yerself a wee dram if you like and put that silly through out of yer head."

The cat remained just long enough to show that it wasn't really obeying his words, merely had happened to decide to do something similar, then walked along the wall with its tail raised high. His gaze followed it until it hopped down out of sight then continued to track its path for several long moments despite the intervening wall.

Only then did he turn his attention towards the houses of Privet Drive and, in particular, number four.

The light caught on a ring the man wore as he made a surprisingly subtle gesture with one of his great hands and suddenly fabric shrouded his hands as he abruptly held a great gown. With practiced ease he swirled it around his large body, sliding his arms through the sleeves effortlessly, and carefully settled it in place.

He ran his hands over it, touching the furs and hides which made it up as though each brought back a memory, then gave a firm nod and stood tall. An air of authority, of power, seemed to settle over him and when he stepped forward it was all too easy to imagine how the very ground would shake beneath his feet if he so choose.

When he reached the door to number four he rapped his knuckles against it three times, the wood and glass shaking with each carefully measured knock and the noise resounding throughout the house.

"Household, I seek entry," He said formally, his accent falling away as he spoke the well practiced words, "As I would have words with those within. I seek students for my sect and have heard tell that one of this place may be capable of Enlightenment."

From somewhere inside he heard a feminine whimper, a sharp intake of adult breath, and a young male voice demanding that 'the freak get the fuckin' door'.

He knocked again and this time his words were less polite.

"Open this soddin' door and let me in. It's not gonna keep me out and we all want to get this done with." He stated, the rumble of his voice causing crockery to rattle in sympathy.

He waited there patiently and listened to the whisper arguments, to the harsh words, which were spoken within the house. Silently he counted his heartbeats and let his irritation wash through him and down through his feet into the earth.

He remembered being a boy too large, too 'stupid', for his adoptive family to tolerate.

By the time that the door opened to reveal a slight figure, dressed in older cast off clothes and with eyes which gleamed an unnatural green as they stared up at him, he was calmer but feeling no less impatient to be done with this place.

"Yer comin' with me." He said then grabbed the child and left before he did something that he wouldn't regret.

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Why did they call you a "freak"? (Pick one. No write-ins here.)

[ ] They had to cover up your freakish strength after you shattered several doors.

[ ] They have pulled you back from touching the normally intangible local Formations.

[ ] They have struggled to hide the unnatural way you change genders.

[ ] They saw how some Spirit Animals seem attracted and actually friendly towards you.

[ ] They were appalled by how you thrived on eating strange and unnatural things.

General Points

• Background knowledge of the Xianxia genre may be useful, but not necessary. Expect things on both sides to be mangled into a different shape.
• I aim to update roughly twice a week, but I'll attempt to give warning if I stray from this schedule.
  • Okay, 'aim' was the operative word. I'll try for twice a week, but I may end up settling for once per week instead.
• Various terms may be explained along the way as you (aka the Potter child) find out about them, but otherwise may need to be actively searched out ICly after they are referred to.
• Discussion is extremely welcome, and encourages me to stay interested in the Quest, but I may remain silent on some topics so as not to provide too many spoilers or bias voting.

Voting

• Italic lines bender a voting option are description or details and there is no need to include them in the vote.
• Unless stated otherwise if multiple choices, or multiple sets of choices, are presented in a single update then everything in you vote is taken as a single cohesive plan.
  • Not putting in part of the vote may have your vote discarded as invalid.
• Opportunities for write-ins will be clearly labelled.
• Some votes (especially early ones) will define aspects about the world that the Quest takes place in rather than being IC actions.
• Please don't make me put in rules against tactical voting, negative voting, etc. Please?

Character Sheet
Information about 'you' will go here.

General Info:

Affinities :

Known Skills:

Passive Technique:

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Inspiration:

• 50 Insight associated with Darkness, Earth, and Non-Visual Awareness.

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Glossary
As terms and concepts are encountered they will be listed here along with any details on them you have learned.

• Insight: Effectively this is your XP. However it is not directly spent, but where appropriate it instead adds to cultivation attempts or other forms of learning. In a dramatically appropriate situation you may offered the change to make a roll using just applicable insight as everything you have learnt or experienced comes together.
• Vis: The metaphysical fuel used to power active techniques while most passive techniques require a certain ammount to be in your system in order to grant their benefits. At your stage of cultivation you condense a tiny trickle of vis from the world around you to refill your reserves.