Xifeng Ren

Xifeng Ren
Full name	Xifeng Ren
Born	January 27th, 1928
Birthplace	China
Residence	Hogsmeade
Nationality	British-Chinese
Blood Status	Muggleborn
Parents	Wei & Fang Ren
Siblings	Jianyu, Jianjun, Jianguo (brothers)
Wand	Rowan, Unicorn Hair, Flexible, 11 1/4”

Biography

A red string connected her to someone special, someone had told her before she woke up with no home. A red string by the ankle. It could tangle, it could stretch, but whomever was tied to Xifeng would find her someday—it was certain.

Even if they were across the world.

In 1937, Xifeng was orphaned and was taken in by the Ren family, who had quickly called her their own. In 1938, she and her three new brothers were plucked from their homeland and were replanted in the West. Specifically Manchester, England. They attended a western school, where the students rarely called them by their birth names. Only nine years old, it was easy for Xifeng to learn the English language, even if her classmates seldom spoke to her. Her elder brothers, years older than Xifeng, were the workers in the family—Bàba and Mama stayed home to watch over their youngest daughter.

It was a satisfactory life. Xifeng had her family, plants, fairy tales, and red string, and with that, she was content.

In 1939, she jumped for glee.

Xifeng had returned home to a letter. It was undeniably fancy; a red wax seal adorned its front, and it had her name (her real name!) and address written prettily on the back. Much to her dismay, it was opened. At the dinner table, she found her oldest brother Jianyu reading it, solemnly serious, with Jianjun, Jianguo, and her parents standing behind him. An unknown man accompanied them too—a stranger.

“What is it?” she asked in her mother tongue, running towards them in slippery white socks as she threw down her bookbag. “Bàba, who is this—”

“—it’s a prestigious school in Scotland,” continued the man, with a beard so bushy that his mouth was simply nowhere to be seen, “where Xifeng will learn from only the best wizards Britain has to offer.”

She stopped in her tracks, hanging on to one word the woman uttered: wizards.

... Wizards!?

“She has caused bizarre things before,” admitted Mama, wringing her hands, “but it does not mean we will send her to Scotland. She is our daughter.” The soft-hearted woman stared at her family, expecting them to agree.

Xifeng thought of the time she caused the sad little class plant to sprout viridian leaves the moment her fingers touched its stem. Or the time her hair had immediately grown twice as long when a girl from the next class over had chopped it off with scissors. That wasn’t just bizarre—it was completely unorthodox!

“You’re underestimating her abilities,” Bàba said. Looking at the stranger, he nodded. “We will send her.” Mama looked at him as if she had been slapped in the face.

“Where am I going?” she spoke, greatly dismayed. It was unfair that she had no say in this decision making; especially when it was centered around her.

“Ah, this must be the lucky girl. No worries, Miss Ren.” The man looked at her, stern-faced but with a kind voice. “Term for Hogwarts starts September first. By then, we expect all of her school supplies bought by then. I shall be assisting in your purchases—muggles are not to be mixed in the wizarding world.”

In that same year, Xifeng was sorted at Hogwarts. Specifically in Hufflepuff, where everyone seemed to be warm and friendly and welcoming; it was a relieving break from all the disregard faced by her muggle classmates in Manchester. She had a wand (chestnut, unicorn hair, eleven and a half inches, flexible, if Xifeng remembered correctly). She had an owl who was dubbed Peng, who would send letters to her parents and brother for her. She had brought a small aloe plant named Greeny to sit in one of the window sills.

But still, even with so many comforts in her palm, she knew that none of them could get them to smile as much as the girl in front of her.

“Alcyone,” the girl introduced herself. Gosh, she hoped she wouldn’t botch her name—it was too pretty to mispronounce. “Alcyone Vossen.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she breathed. “That’s a nice name. Alcyone.”

Alcyone was a sunshiny girl—there was no other way of putting it. She liked to make things with her hands, like potions, or art, or anything really. Radiant and glowing, it was like the stars had gathered and formed into the being before her. Xifeng blinked, as if blocking out her blazing brilliance.

“So, how has your first day been?”

(Gosh, her hands were warm.)

It happened nearly every year.

“We have to sign up for Herbology,” she defended, taking Alcyone by the arm and gently bumping her head on the girl’s shoulder. “It’s a very important subject, promise.”

The smile on Alcyone’s lips was all she cared for.

“Fine, but we better be signing up for Potions as well.”

Xifeng snorted, letting a giggle escape her throat. Always. It was an unwritten law that they take as many classes together as they could, to stay at each other’s heels until the very end. They would always find a happy medium no matter what; just Alcyone’s company was enough not drop out of Potions, even if she couldn’t bear the smell. That was what best friends were for.

It was what girlfriends did.

“Besides, Herbology is a key component for Potions. And, I’m helping you with your homework anyway...”

It was now, when they bought their first home together.

A finger went to inspect the floor, sliding off and attracting any dust that went with it. “I guess you’re right,” Xifeng murmured, turning to look at the big picture. Her wand pointed at the floorboard, and she whispered a Tergeo that made the wood look just a little bit nicer. “Make ends meet, yeah?”

Peering at the discolored wallpaper, she casted a Commutati rosaceus. The walls turned a slightly rosier shade.

A sigh. She twiddled at the red string bracelet they made in their first year, as a token of their friendship. Now, the trinkets tied carelessly on the string meant more than that.

“We can make this ours. Don’t you agree?”

It was more than Xifeng could have ever hoped for.