Legend of Hogwarts (Harry Potter x League of Legends)

If Allen remembered correctly, Hogwarts should be absolutely safe and peaceful at this moment in time.

After all, everything started to change only when Harry Potter enrolled at the school, or rather, Allen didn’t mean to put the blame on Harry.

Hogwarts was a remarkably resilient school. When students were attacked, classes continued. When a teacher died, classes continued. When a basilisk roamed the halls, classes continued (there were talks of suspension, but it never happened). When a notorious murderer broke into the school, classes still continued. Even when a student died, Hogwarts pressed on with its lessons. When will the Dark Lord return? Still in session. Even after the Headmaster’s death, yes, classes still went on.

Such an indomitable spirit. As long as you’re not dead from studying, you better keep studying until you drop...

Still, Allen clearly remembered, before Hogwarts began showing this unyielding nature, it had once been a truly quiet, uneventful place. Even when he’d killed a few spiders, it was barely a footnote.

But a Slytherin student going mad?

Now that was no small matter.

Unfortunately, with the entire school now in lockdown, Allen had no way to gather information about what had happened. As for the whispering chatter among the young wizards, it was useless. They had no idea what really went on and were all just wildly speculating.

••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••

The next morning, Allen finally got a first-hand account, Annie, munching her breakfast, told him what had actually happened the day before.

The student who had gone mad was a senior in Slytherin. According to the Slytherin who first found him, the boy had been lying in a dark corner, eyes blank, drooling onto his own chest. His wand was clenched so tightly in his left hand that his fingernails had pierced the skin.

But that wand’s owner would never cast another spell with it again.

All he could do now was curl into a tight ball, like a terrified insect, muttering over and over, ”No... I was wrong... please forgive me...”

The student who found him had told Annie that Madam Pomfrey, the school’s matron, said the boy had suffered catastrophic damage.

It had taken countless spells, stacked and overlapped, Madam Pomfrey had emphasized that this sort of effect could only be caused by an overwhelming barrage of curses.

Specifically, one of the three Unforgivable Curses: the Cruciatus Curse.

Each casting of an Unforgivable Curse meant a sentence in Azkaban. Whoever had done this, if caught, would rot in prison for the rest of their life. And that’s without Britain having a death penalty like the American Department of Magic.

That night, Valor, who had worked throughout the entire evening, confirmed to Allen that the entire castle had been searched. Students who had gone to Hogsmeade for the holiday were urgently called back. Half the faculty had spent the night inspecting every corner of the school, looking for any signs of an intruder.

But in the end, nothing. They found no trace of the attacker. Or at least, that’s what Valor believed.

••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••

As Allen and the others began to murmur among themselves, the Great Hall’s doors were suddenly slammed open with incredible force.

In it stormed a tall, thin wizard with a face full of fury, accompanied by a middle-aged witch with tear-reddened eyes.

All the students turned in shock as the man scanned the hall, then marched straight for the staff table, his target: Professor Snape.

”Severus Snape!” the man roared, charging forward and grabbing at Snape’s robes.

But he didn’t succeed. Snape deftly sidestepped and whipped out his wand.

”You bastard! You filthy piece of scum! What the hell happened to my son, Green?!” the man screamed, drawing his own wand and hurling a violet spell straight at Snape.

Snape responded instantly with a Shield Charm. The curse bounced off harmlessly. With a swift flick of his own wand, Snape disarmed the man, the wand flew from his grip and landed in Snape’s hand.

But even disarmed, the man didn’t back down. He lunged forward again, fists raised, trying to punch Snape.

It was no use.

A Stupefy spell hit him from behind, his wife had cast it. Despite her tear-streaked face, she had managed to keep her emotions in check better than her husband.

”I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lip and trying to speak without sobbing, ”But please understand, we’re just two parents going mad after hearing the news. I want to see my son. Now.”

”Green. Where is he?”

Snape’s face was grim. Not because of the man’s assault, but because he had worn the same expression all morning. Even so, there was a softness in his voice Allen had never heard before.

”I’m sorry, madam. He’s in the hospital wing. But I think we should see Professor Dumbledore first.”

”No!” the woman shrieked, suddenly hysterical. ”Absolutely not! I want to see Green right now! Immediately!”

The whole hall fell silent in the face of her nearly unhinged scream. Then, a calm and aged voice rang out, it was Dumbledore.

Under Dumbledore’s soothing words, the couple, still wiping away tears, left the hall alongside Snape and the Headmaster, heading for the infirmary.

The Great Hall erupted into nervous chatter. The woman’s outburst had frightened the younger students, who now imagined the worst possible scenarios.

Only Allen knew the truth.

He knew who the real culprit was.

No doubt about it, it was Voldemort. Or rather, one of his Horcruxes.

Very few at the school, if any, were capable of casting the Cruciatus Curse with such devastating precision. That kind of cruelty required mastery.

Clearly, that foolish thief had made the worst mistake possible, he’d put the diadem on his head.

And that explained how he had managed to steal one of the House Heirlooms in the first place. The diadem, besides being a Horcrux, had another property, it was Rowena Ravenclaw’s most beloved artifact, said to enhance a person’s wisdom.

Allen didn’t know why the thief hadn’t tried to steal the other Heirloom next. But judging from what had happened, the poor boy had already started to fall into Voldemort’s carefully laid trap, he was just waiting for the soul fragment within the diadem, like a patient spider, to feast on its prey.

Chapter 101: The Soul-Eating Horcrux

If Allen remembered correctly, Hogwarts should be absolutely safe and peaceful at this moment in time.

After all, everything started to change only when Harry Potter enrolled at the school, or rather, Allen didn’t mean to put the blame on Harry.

Hogwarts was a remarkably resilient school. When students were attacked, classes continued. When a teacher died, classes continued. When a basilisk roamed the halls, classes continued (there were talks of suspension, but it never happened). When a notorious murderer broke into the school, classes still continued. Even when a student died, Hogwarts pressed on with its lessons. When will the Dark Lord return? Still in session. Even after the Headmaster’s death, yes, classes still went on.

Such an indomitable spirit. As long as you’re not dead from studying, you better keep studying until you drop...

Still, Allen clearly remembered, before Hogwarts began showing this unyielding nature, it had once been a truly quiet, uneventful place. Even when he’d killed a few spiders, it was barely a footnote.

But a Slytherin student going mad?

Now that was no small matter.

Unfortunately, with the entire school now in lockdown, Allen had no way to gather information about what had happened. As for the whispering chatter among the young wizards, it was useless. They had no idea what really went on and were all just wildly speculating.

••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••

The next morning, Allen finally got a first-hand account, Annie, munching her breakfast, told him what had actually happened the day before.

The student who had gone mad was a senior in Slytherin. According to the Slytherin who first found him, the boy had been lying in a dark corner, eyes blank, drooling onto his own chest. His wand was clenched so tightly in his left hand that his fingernails had pierced the skin.

But that wand’s owner would never cast another spell with it again.

All he could do now was curl into a tight ball, like a terrified insect, muttering over and over, ”No... I was wrong... please forgive me...”

The student who found him had told Annie that Madam Pomfrey, the school’s matron, said the boy had suffered catastrophic damage.

It had taken countless spells, stacked and overlapped, Madam Pomfrey had emphasized that this sort of effect could only be caused by an overwhelming barrage of curses.

Specifically, one of the three Unforgivable Curses: the Cruciatus Curse.

Each casting of an Unforgivable Curse meant a sentence in Azkaban. Whoever had done this, if caught, would rot in prison for the rest of their life. And that’s without Britain having a death penalty like the American Department of Magic.

That night, Valor, who had worked throughout the entire evening, confirmed to Allen that the entire castle had been searched. Students who had gone to Hogsmeade for the holiday were urgently called back. Half the faculty had spent the night inspecting every corner of the school, looking for any signs of an intruder.

But in the end, nothing. They found no trace of the attacker. Or at least, that’s what Valor believed.

••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••

As Allen and the others began to murmur among themselves, the Great Hall’s doors were suddenly slammed open with incredible force.

In it stormed a tall, thin wizard with a face full of fury, accompanied by a middle-aged witch with tear-reddened eyes.

All the students turned in shock as the man scanned the hall, then marched straight for the staff table, his target: Professor Snape.

”Severus Snape!” the man roared, charging forward and grabbing at Snape’s robes.

But he didn’t succeed. Snape deftly sidestepped and whipped out his wand.

”You bastard! You filthy piece of scum! What the hell happened to my son, Green?!” the man screamed, drawing his own wand and hurling a violet spell straight at Snape.

Snape responded instantly with a Shield Charm. The curse bounced off harmlessly. With a swift flick of his own wand, Snape disarmed the man, the wand flew from his grip and landed in Snape’s hand.

But even disarmed, the man didn’t back down. He lunged forward again, fists raised, trying to punch Snape.

It was no use.

A Stupefy spell hit him from behind, his wife had cast it. Despite her tear-streaked face, she had managed to keep her emotions in check better than her husband.

”I’m sorry,” she said, biting her lip and trying to speak without sobbing, ”But please understand, we’re just two parents going mad after hearing the news. I want to see my son. Now.”

”Green. Where is he?”

Snape’s face was grim. Not because of the man’s assault, but because he had worn the same expression all morning. Even so, there was a softness in his voice Allen had never heard before.

”I’m sorry, madam. He’s in the hospital wing. But I think we should see Professor Dumbledore first.”

”No!” the woman shrieked, suddenly hysterical. ”Absolutely not! I want to see Green right now! Immediately!”

The whole hall fell silent in the face of her nearly unhinged scream. Then, a calm and aged voice rang out, it was Dumbledore.

Under Dumbledore’s soothing words, the couple, still wiping away tears, left the hall alongside Snape and the Headmaster, heading for the infirmary.

The Great Hall erupted into nervous chatter. The woman’s outburst had frightened the younger students, who now imagined the worst possible scenarios.

Only Allen knew the truth.

He knew who the real culprit was.

No doubt about it, it was Voldemort. Or rather, one of his Horcruxes.

Very few at the school, if any, were capable of casting the Cruciatus Curse with such devastating precision. That kind of cruelty required mastery.

Clearly, that foolish thief had made the worst mistake possible, he’d put the diadem on his head.

And that explained how he had managed to steal one of the House Heirlooms in the first place. The diadem, besides being a Horcrux, had another property, it was Rowena Ravenclaw’s most beloved artifact, said to enhance a person’s wisdom.

Allen didn’t know why the thief hadn’t tried to steal the other Heirloom next. But judging from what had happened, the poor boy had already started to fall into Voldemort’s carefully laid trap, he was just waiting for the soul fragment within the diadem, like a patient spider, to feast on its prey.

==========

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