Legend of Hogwarts (Harry Potter x League of Legends)

The Room of Requirement, the most mysterious and illogical room in all of Hogwarts.

Even by magical standards, this room was extraordinary. It could fulfill virtually any desire: one moment, it might be a humble space for a house-elf to sober up; the next, it could transform into a grand hall hiding a deadly Horcrux.

It had been foreshadowed from the very beginning of the story and, by the end, it became the path to victory, Harry used this very route to infiltrate the heavily guarded Hogwarts and win the final battle.

Of course, let’s politely ignore the fact that its first appearance in Harry Potter was as a bathroom.

But today, Allen wasn’t here to destroy a Horcrux. He was simply looking for a secluded space where the system could absorb the golden slate he’d acquired. Unfortunately, Britain was too small, and the Ministry of Magic’s surveillance was far too thorough.

The Room of Requirement was the perfect place, hidden, heavily protected by Hogwarts’ ancient magic, and utterly undetectable. Not even Dumbledore could sense what happened inside. Whether it was the Vanishing Cabinet Malfoy used or the Fiendfyre that once engulfed the room, the facts spoke for themselves.

Allen paced in front of the wall, thinking carefully: he needed a vast open area for a magical ritual.

But when the door appeared and he stepped inside, he was stunned.

The scene before him felt eerily familiar, a vast castle made entirely of garbage. But this wasn’t just any trash. These were magical artifacts and spellbooks, many as dangerous as nuclear waste. Thousands of banned tomes were discarded like junk, pages scattered everywhere, remnants from cursed books that had torn through their victims. Broken magical tools lay in heaps, twitching now and then as if clinging to a final breath. This was the final resting place for centuries of Hogwarts’ forbidden and unwanted magical detritus.

Yet what caught Allen’s attention wasn’t the trash, it was a statue of an old wizard perched atop a broken crate.

The statue had a bald head covered with a dusty, tattered gray wig, and atop the wig sat something truly remarkable, a rusted, battered, and worthless-looking crown. Something that wouldn’t even fetch two pence at a scrap yard.

But Allen knew better. This was no ordinary relic, it was a hidden treasure: the long-lost diadem of Rowena Ravenclaw, stolen long ago by her misguided daughter.

Proof, perhaps, that giving mischievous children a beating is every parent’s solemn duty.

But this crown was now more than a mere relic. It held a fragment of the soul of the most evil wizard in history.

Allen kept his distance, observing cautiously. He lacked the power to destroy a Horcrux for now, and he wasn’t about to underestimate the backlash that might come with touching one. Voldemort wouldn’t test Hogwarts’ defenses just yet, so time was on his side. He could afford to wait and plan carefully.

Once Allen ensured a safe distance from the Horcrux, he cleared a large space using magic.

Then, from his magically expanded pouch, he pulled out the golden slate he had obtained from a vampire. As soon as he took it out, he could feel the system inside him stirring with urgency.

With great effort, Allen laid the heavy, half-human-sized slate on the ground. He gently placed his hand above it and gave the system permission to begin the absorption process.

A small magic circle appeared beneath his hand, glowing faintly blue. It spun slowly, expanding outward in an attempt to engulf the slate.

Then something unexpected happened.

The slate, which had been inert until now, began to glow with a soft yellow light, it was resisting the system’s absorption.

Suddenly, a sandstorm-like gale burst from the slate, swirling with yellow sand like a desert storm. It lashed out, scattering the surrounding trash and nearly knocking Allen off his knees. Even from the corner of his eye, he could see debris flying as if caught in a tornado.

”Damn it!” Allen cursed, clutching the slate as he fell backward. The sheer force of the impact, combined with the slate’s weight, made him cough up blood, even with his enhanced physique.

But he smiled through the pain.

”Come on then! Let’s see you lift yourself off the ground!”

The resistance gradually faded as the system pressed on. The yellow light dimmed, and the blue magic circle finally spread across the entire surface of the slate. Allen quickly rolled aside and flung it away just in time.

Before his eyes, the slate began to expand, growing until it was as large as Hogwarts’ main gate, transforming into a massive stone monument.

Moments later, a mummified figure holding a scepter let out a resentful wail. The creature, twice Allen’s size, began to crack and crumble under the blue glow until it completely disintegrated into dust.

The dust, blue and glittering like gemstone sand, settled across the monument’s surface, revealing lines of ancient text. It was a language Allen had learned from Ryze: ancient magical runes.

At the same time, a barrage of notifications erupted from the system.

[Ding! Desert Death God Nasus, Hero Shard 2.1/3!]

[Ding! Doomed Mummy Amumu, Hero Shard 1.7/3!]

[Ding! Desert Butcher Renekton, Hero Shard 1.9/3!]

[Ding! Ancient Sorcerer Xerath, Hero Shard 0.5/3!]

[Ding! Emperor of the Sands Azir, Hero Shard 1/3!]

[Ding! Card Master Twisted Fate, Hero Shard 1/3!]

Allen stared at the messages for a long moment, then exploded with frustration.

”System, you’ve got to be kidding me!”

Not a single complete hero legacy. Worse, aside from Twisted Fate, all the other shards had a clear label: Cannot Be Redeemed.

That’s right, not ”insufficient gold,” but a hard NO.

It was maddening. Xerath and Azir especially had powerful magical abilities, perfect for a wizard like him.

Then he noticed the inscription etched onto the stone slab:

I am the Ascended of Shurima’s dawn, born to lead mortals into prosperity!

Shurima, your emperor has returned!

Sons of Shurima, rise with us, or be crushed beneath us!

Below that were rows and rows of densely packed runes, the kind of ancient magical knowledge Allen usually received during hero inheritance. Except this time, it had been carved into the monument itself.

Allen’s face darkened.

”Damn it... descendants of Shurima?!”

So this is what happened, Azir’s legacy interfered with the sacrifice!

Thankfully, he discovered that once he read and internalized a piece of knowledge, it vanished from the slate, a small mercy, especially since he couldn’t destroy it.

When Allen finally stepped out of the Room of Requirement, his expression was grim. Then he realized another reason why the system had struggled: the slate had drained a massive amount of its power.

Even on the eighth floor, Allen could hear the howling winds ravaging Hogwarts. Through the thick glass and long corridors, he could feel grains of sand pelting against his skin. The windows shook under the assault, and even with magical protection, it felt like the next gust might shatter them completely.

It was as if the end of the world had come.

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