Legend of Hogwarts (Harry Potter x League of Legends)

A brand-new magical system, paired with an equally new spell, plus the original creator's custom modifications, such magic couldn't be mastered in a single afternoon, even with the creator himself guiding you.

So by lunchtime, Allen hadn't even scratched the surface. Forget snapping his fingers to cast the spell stylishly, he couldn't even pull it off with the standard gesture-plus-incantation method.

Still, with lunch approaching, he knew better than to monopolize the professor's time any further. No point in being that kind of clueless brat who didn't know when to stop.

So the two of them headed back toward the training grounds, intending to dismiss the class and head to lunch.

But what they saw left them both stunned.

When Allen had first suggested this little "prank" of a training session, he'd imagined all sorts of scenarios:

Maybe a bunch of young wizards would show up with their hair and eyebrows singed, tearfully reporting to him about how terrible it was.

Or they'd be caked in mud, faces streaked with dirt and tears, looking like sad little war refugees.

Some of the more delicate ones might even refuse to participate altogether, sulking in a corner, pouting silently.

But never, never, had he pictured this: the kids had spontaneously split into two teams and were having a full-on mud fight.

That's right. Just like a snowball fight, only with mud. They were scooping up the muck, packing it into balls, and flinging it at each other with wild laughter, slamming their opponents in the face or splattering them head to toe.

Judging from the uncontrollable giggling, the state of their soaked robes, and the fact that even their flying brooms were caked in grime, they'd clearly been playing this mud war for quite a while, and loving every minute of it.

What the hell is wrong with them?!

Allen was hit with a strange sense of defeat and helplessness. The prank had succeeded... and yet somehow, it all felt utterly meaningless.

He had overestimated these brats. He'd been thinking with an adult mindset, concerned with dirt, embarrassment, appearances. But these little wizards? They didn't care about any of that. And even if a few had felt hesitant at first, the sheer fun of the game had wiped away every objection.

Allen felt like these kids would be just as happy splashing in puddles or making mud pies with their bare hands. Which made him grumble under his breath again:

"What the hell is wrong with them?!"

The professor, meanwhile, had utterly lost control of his usually stern expression. Even Allen felt a bit bad for him, trying to hold back laughter like that couldn't have been easy. The manga Allen had once had confiscated in school had proven just how hard it was to suppress a grin.

As soon as the professor appeared, the two teams, no, mud monsters, paused their war and lined up in front of him.

Their faces were completely covered in mud, with only bright white teeth poking through. Actually, Allen spotted a few kids whose teeth also had mud on them… either from a faceplant or because someone had literally thrown mud in their mouths. Either way, judging by their grinning faces, they couldn't care less.

The professor, now thoroughly exhausted, weakly declared the class dismissed. He looked like he'd aged ten years in an hour. Honestly, it was hard to blame him, who wouldn't feel drained after trying to teach this group?

Back in the dining hall, the arrival of these muddy little beasts naturally caused an uproar.

Many of the younger kids had older siblings at the school.

"My little brother/sister left looking clean and came back like a swamp monster?! And they're just sitting there grinning like idiots?!"

And when the older students heard it had been the Hogwarts exchange student who suggested the new training method, they were furious.

"Who the hell thought it was a good idea to let some foreign kid turn my smart (or adorably dumb) sibling into a mud-caked maniac?!"

"You say it made them happy? Bullshit! He must've cursed them!"

At Uagadou, curses were taken very seriously. The upperclassmen immediately assumed Allen had cast some kind of hex to make their siblings act like fools.

"What do you mean they're happy? No way. You've obviously brainwashed them. Look at you all, actually believing he's a nice guy!"

Fortunately, the situation didn't escalate further, largely thanks to the intervention of both schools' staff. The Uagadou headmaster actually liked the idea. And as for Hogwarts? Of course the professors had Allen's back.

But things weren't over just yet.

As Allen and the Hogwarts students were leaving the dining hall, a group of older Uagadou students, their apparent leaders, stepped in to block their path.

"Hey, you Hogwarts lot, hold it right there!"

Without hesitation, the Hogwarts first-years whipped out their wands.

What, did these guys want a fight?

Bring it on!

The Uagadou students instinctively raised their hands, preparing for wandless magic. They'd seen what those little sticks could do, impressive raw power, even if the accuracy was a bit off compared to their own technique.

"Wait, we don't want to fight!" their leader quickly shouted.

As hosts, they really couldn't afford to start a brawl, not with their strict headmistress overseeing the exchange. She was known for being fair, but if they ruined her carefully planned program? Whipping wasn't out of the question.

No joke. The literal whip. And while it was rarely used, maybe once a year, maybe, this definitely counted as a worthy occasion.

"We don't know what trick you used to win over our headmistress and those clueless kids," the leader said, stepping forward, "but we don't accept that ridiculous training method of yours."

"So how about a match?" he challenged. "You dare accept a duel?"

"A duel?"

"That's right. A Quidditch match."

"Winner takes the title of superior fliers. Loser admits defeat."

"If you win, we'll all apologize. But if we win, you'll have to go to our headmistress and tell her, face to face, that your flying methods aren't as good as ours. Deal?"

Now, what happens when a bunch of hot-blooded teenagers get challenged like that?

They take it head-on. No hesitation.

"Bring it on! We're not afraid of a little match!"

"When and where?"

"Tomorrow. Daytime. We'll even supply the brooms, same models we use, no tricks."

"Fine. Tomorrow, we will settle this!"

Neither side was willing to back down. The shouting turned into a full-on shouting match, each side trying to out-yell the other.

At that moment, no one was thinking about the next day's lessons. Who cared? Backing out now would only make them look weak.

Word of the showdown spread like wildfire. By the end of the afternoon, everyone knew about it, even the Uagadou headmistress.

That evening, she made an official announcement: all classes would be suspended the next day to make way for a friendly inter-school match.

At least… that was the official story.

Allen didn't know what was happening behind the scenes at Uagadou, but he did know one thing.

That evening, Professor McGonagall gave a clear and emphatic order:

"No matter what you're thinking, tomorrow, give it everything you've got. Flatten them."

"Crush them! For Hogwarts!"

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