Legend of Hogwarts (Harry Potter x League of Legends)

Traveling without buying a ticket was great in every way, except for one small problem: you had no control over where you ended up.

Still, Allen considered himself lucky. He hadn’t been taken to some private island or sold to a secret client, he’d been smuggled into the United States.

At the moment, he was enjoying a giant ice cream cone while casually flipping through a newspaper. The front-page headline read:

”Customs Intercepts Human Trafficking Ship – Freedom Shines Bright in America!”

Allen recognized the ship in the photo immediately. After all, he had only just used his ultimate ”stray dog” move to teleport off of it yesterday.

The article praised customs enforcement to the skies, proudly declaring that all the traffickers had been ”eliminated while resisting arrest.” As for the trafficked children, those with proper documentation would be repatriated, while the rest, orphans with no traceable identity, would be taken in by the great American government and placed in national welfare institutions.

The story drew heaps of praise from the public, and Allen was quite satisfied with it as well.

Sure, the traffickers didn’t get paid in the end, but they did have a decent stash of money on them. At least, what Allen had managed to scavenge before escaping. He suspected there was a hidden vault somewhere on the ship, otherwise, for a group that had been in the business so long, the cash he found felt a little underwhelming.

Unfortunately, he didn’t have time to search for it. One of the bodies had fallen into the sea, attracting sharks with its blood. That in turn caught the attention of a nearby customs patrol.

So, Allen had to abandon his plan to fully sweep the ship before sending a signal for rescue. He escaped in a hurry.

Now, he had a more pressing problem, he had a stack of Galleons, but no way to exchange them for Muggle money!

Just like British pounds had to be exchanged at Gringotts, Galleons weren’t something you could just hand over at a local bank. The system didn’t recognize them. And Allen had no idea where the American version of Diagon Alley was, or if it even existed nearby!

It’s not like he could just stop people on the street and ask, ”Hey, are you a wizard?”

Or, ”Excuse me, could you tell me how to get to the wizarding bank?”

Or, ”Pardon me, do you know where the local magic community hangs out?”

He chuckled at the thought. That scene would be hilarious.

He’d probably be locked up in a psychiatric hospital before he ever found the American wizarding world.

But all of that was secondary. The most important thing right now was for Allen to get a legal identity, a fake one, to be precise.

That wasn’t a particularly difficult task. Even though American telephone poles and public restrooms weren’t plastered with shady ads like in other countries, you could still find similar services with a little digging.

After all, the U.S. was the biggest destination for illegal immigration in the world.

You just needed to know where to look.

And if you were in unfamiliar territory, there was always one type of ”local guide” you could count on: the bartender.

The town Allen had landed in was a small, unknown port city with only two booming industries: fishing and bars.

Of course, being a port town, there was also plenty of smuggling and illegal trade happening in the background, drugs, contraband, untaxed goods.

The streets were full of dingy little taverns with gaudy, mismatched signs, but their underground levels were often far more lavish than the aboveground facades suggested.

Life on the ocean was dangerous. Sailors often developed unusual beliefs and shifted their religious faiths frequently, sometimes switching gods after surviving a single storm.

Those who managed to save money, despite the lure of alcohol, drugs, and other vices, often chose to open bars in places they knew well. Their faiths and personalities influenced how they designed and ran their establishments.

That was how the many quirky, theme-driven bars in town came to be.

And anyone who managed to run a bar in a place like this was a sharp operator.

Bartenders earned fame by bragging about wild adventures, drawing crowds with their tales. For profit’s sake, most bars also dabbled in side businesses, anything that made money: alcohol, drugs, gambling, sex work, smuggling, fencing stolen goods, and even connecting illegal immigrants to traffickers.

Naturally, fake identity papers were also part of their offerings.

When Allen pushed open the worn-down but well-maintained bar door, the teasing started right away:

”Yo, kid, we don’t sell juice here!”

”A half-grown brat like you drinking booze? Go back and suck your mama’s milk!”

And so on...

Allen didn’t respond. He simply scanned the room, pinpointed the guy with the loudest laugh, and walked over with a sweet smile.

Then, without hesitation, he picked up the guy’s beer mug and smashed it into his face.

Crash!

Beer and shards of glass flew everywhere. Blood streamed down the man’s face, though the wound wasn’t fatal, Allen had held back.

”You little!”

Before the man could retaliate, Allen’s knee shot up, landing squarely in a very sensitive spot. The sickening crunch that followed silenced the entire bar.

A few moments later, Allen dragged the groaning man to the door and flung him outside like trash.

The whole bar erupted in cheers and whistles. Fights were nothing new here, and even though today’s main act was a kid, that only made it more entertaining.

Allen casually tossed a ten-dollar bill onto the counter. The bartender, who had been watching coldly, immediately warmed up.

Fighting was one thing, but property damage had to be paid for.

”Looking to ask a question?” Allen raised his hand, fingers together.

”Of course,” said the bartender, putting down the glass he was polishing. ”That ten bucks covers the damages and buys you one minor piece of information. Bob is always fair.”

”I need some help... about getting some paperwork.”

”Ohhh, no wonder.” Bob grinned. ”That guy just now got thrown out for the same thing, asking the same question and hanging out with a bunch of drunkards.”

He scribbled an address and slid it across the bar. ”Here. Guy you want’s down this alley.”

Then he poured Allen a full glass of liquor.

”Take it, kid. Bob is always fair!”

••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••

Following Bob’s directions, Allen found himself in a grimy, narrow alley.

Filthy drains, scattered trash, and swarms of flies tempted him to use magic. It was easily the dirtiest place he’d ever set foot in. He even had to watch his step, some of the loose tiles sprayed foul black water when stepped on.

He began to doubt the legendary forger’s abilities. Would someone truly skilled really be living in a place like this?

Holding his nose, Allen knocked on the door. After a while, a slurred voice answered from inside, so drunk it seeped through the wood.

Just as Allen was about to explain why he’d come, the door suddenly burst open. The drunk man, moving with unexpected speed, reached into his pants and whipped out something Allen recognized instantly,

A wand.

A blinding white flash shot toward him.

==========

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