Legend of Hogwarts (Harry Potter x League of Legends)

”Open Sesame!”

”The King covers the Earth!”

”Demacia!”

••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••

Allen wasn’t spouting these ridiculous battle cries because he was bored, he had prepared for combat but had forgotten one small detail: he didn’t actually know how to summon a basilisk.

Directly in front of him stood the statue of Slytherin. Although Allen had no interest in smearing the founder’s name, he had to admit, the statue was ugly beyond words.

It was a face wrinkled and aged like an old monkey, with only sparse strands of hair in its thin beard, trailing messily down the sculpted wizard robes. The rest of the body? Absolutely hideous.

Allen had no idea why Slytherin would design a statue that insulted his own image, but that wasn’t the point, what really mattered was the snake hidden within the statue.

Had Allen known the narcissistic incantation that opened the hidden passage, he would have recited it without hesitation:

”Speak to me, Slytherin, the greatest of Hogwarts’ four founders.”

Big deal. Just say it, Slytherin, you’re awesome already.

Unfortunately, Allen had neither memorized the lengthy, smelly incantation nor figured out how to say it in Parseltongue, hence his earlier antics, testing the statue with all sorts of magical spells.

Naturally, his attempts failed. Without Parseltongue, how could Slytherin’s legacy appear?

Frustrated, Allen finally kicked the statue hard. Were it not for Slytherin being the founder, he might have etched ”Allen was here” on it with a brush1.

We all know the trick with fixing malfunctioning electronics: hit it hard at the right angle, and sometimes, inexplicably, it works again. Allen’s kick had a similar effect, but not because it repaired the statue.

It had angered the statue.

Consider: Slytherin was narcissistic enough to guard his incantation with extreme pride. How could he tolerate someone kicking his statue, especially one containing one of the most fearsome magical creatures, the basilisk?

So, just as a disappointed Allen turned to leave, a CRACK rang out, the giant stone face of Slytherin moved. Its mouth opened wider and wider, forming a massive passageway.

At the same time, a purplish-red shield appeared around Allen’s body. No matter what happened, activating a shield first was always safe.

From the tunnel came a rustling sound, something was crawling out.

During this crawling, Allen exchanged a glance with Valor in the sky, and they began chanting their spells in unison. As the incantation echoed, black feathers materialized around Allen and Valor, coalescing into tiny crows before even touching the ground.

As the crow numbers grew, winds stirred among them. Clearly, Allen and Valor weren’t holding back, they intended to hit the basilisk hard.

When the basilisk’s head finally emerged from the long tunnel, a sudden rain of pain struck behind it, like arrows pelting its head. The small, magically-conjured crows attacked the thick, broad scales, chipping away until even flesh began to vanish.

The wounded basilisk struck back. But as it turned its massive head, a tremendous impact reverberated through its soul, like a hammer smashing down, causing its enormous body to momentarily lose control.

The moment was brief. After all, the basilisk was immense, in body and spirit alike.

Had Valor been alone, the serpent might have had a midnight snack, too bad that wasn’t the case.

During the brief loss of control, another wave of crows rained down. Same formula, same effect, but with a twist.

This time, a figure enveloped in a purple magical shield appeared above the basilisk’s head. In their hand gleamed a sharp dagger from the werewolf tribes, aimed at the serpent’s enormous eyes.

The dagger pierced effortlessly. Allen, determined to finish the job, poured all his strength into driving the blade into the basilisk’s brain, but the hard bone blocked him.

Realizing the dagger couldn’t go further, Allen twisted it, then pressed his hand down hard on the serpent’s head. The force sent him flying, along with the dagger and a spray of thick, black venomous blood, though Morgana’s magic shield nullified its effect.

As Allen flew away, Valor circled behind, connecting with him mid-air. Upon collision, a black cloak of feathers unfurled behind Allen, slowing his descent until he landed safely.

”HISS!!!”

A deafening roar erupted, the serpent, now blind in one eye and injured in two places, bellowed at the sky.

It had slept far too long, waiting since its last summoning fifty years ago. Unfortunately, this summoning brought an unreasonably aggressive assault.

From Allen and Valor’s vantage point in the air, the basilisk’s scales glowed red, its mouth emitted unintelligible hisses, and its magic pulsed wildly, clearly, the situation had escalated. Summoning the basilisk outside normal procedures had triggered Slytherin’s defenses, and the serpent itself was enraged.