Legend of Hogwarts (Harry Potter x League of Legends)

Wizards have a curious branch of study called Divination.

Although very few possess the rare talent to actually divine the future, that hasn't stopped Hogwarts from creating two full subjects dedicated to this arcane field, Divination and Arithmancy.

Allen wasn't sure if he had any talent for it, but one thing was clear: that song he'd thought of the other day was absolutely prophetic when it came to the fate of the third-years.

After all, it's like that tale of the last stand at Thermopylae, three hundred marched in… none came out.

That night, the bathrooms in all four houses were packed to bursting.

Fortunately, the heads of houses had anticipated the chaos and nipped Peeves' plan to perform another of his "soulful" musical numbers in the bud.

But unfortunately, the real suffering was only just beginning.

No one laughed at the students reeking of fermented herring, not because they were noble or kind, but because everyone was living in fear.

Every spare classroom was occupied. The house-elves even brought out the old, discarded cushions to meet the students' sudden demand for practice space.

Professors collectively lightened the homework load, giving students more time to rehearse the Ironclad Charm they'd learned in Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Even Professor Flitwick spent half a lesson helping his students with a spell that wasn't even part of his subject.

It was now obvious to everyone that the new Defense professor Dumbledore had hired was the "fun" kind of teacher. And he was just getting started.

Even though Tuesday didn't have any Defense classes, giving the weary students some much-needed breathing room, Wednesday arrived, dragging them back to reality.

By midday, a group of exhausted second-years staggered into the Great Hall, recounting their morning like war survivors. Terrifying as it was, their experience still paled in comparison to the trauma suffered by their third-year seniors.

Their opponents? A troop of mischievous pixies armed with paintball eggs and slingshots, Muggle-style weapons, reluctantly taken up under Professor Sigma's wand.

Truthfully, the pixies preferred hoisting students into the air like human kites. But once they got used to the colorful splashes, the new tools suited their chaotic tastes just fine.

Each student was assigned five pixies. Their mission: use the Disarming Charm to knock the pixies' "weapons" away. Bonus points if they actually managed to bring one of the little menaces down.

Unfortunately, second-years weren't all that much better than first-years, they'd spent the previous year under a textbook-reciting excuse for a teacher. You couldn't expect much from them.

Thankfully, paintball trauma wasn't as devastating as magical bombs. Sure, a few poor souls left looking like they'd lost a bet with a rainbow, but their proud, half-boastful tones made it clear they were kind of… okay with it?

Still, no one dared to relax, especially the fourth-years slated for class that afternoon. At this point, they felt like desperate gamblers waiting for the dealer (aka Sigma) to roll the dice and reveal their fate.

And they were right to be afraid.

With his signature charming smile, Professor Sigma greeted the fourth-years.

Despite teaching two high-energy lessons that morning, he looked as bright and cheerful as ever.

Flashing a brilliant set of white teeth, he beamed at the class.

"Good afternoon, everyone. As you all know, due to the shortage of magical teaching aids last week, we had to endure a rather boring lesson."

(Students below muttered: "We'd gladly take that again…")

"But lucky for us, today, we've got some new little friends to help us out. With their assistance, we can carry out a proper practical exam!"

According to Murphy's Law, whatever can go wrong will go wrong.

And sure enough, Sigma's "little friends" were just as terrible as the students feared:

Skunks. Magical skunks.

Fluffy, sleek, and adorable.

Unlike many magical creatures hunted to extinction for their fur, these creatures thrived in peace, mainly because no one wanted to mess with them.

Their biggest limiter was their incredibly low birth rate. Even though wizards protected their dens with utmost care, their numbers never increased much.

Once a young skunk matured, it would go out on its first hunt. To mark its coming-of-age, it would leave its very first "dropping" behind in its childhood den.

That den, along with the excrement, would later be processed into a rare aromatic substance. When burned, the scent was strong enough to calm even an enraged adult dragon.

So yes, very valuable.

And yet, the reason no one farmed them? They stink to high heaven.

Other than a handful of Egyptian wizards brave (or foolish) enough to raise them, most wizarding communities maintained a respectful, and very distant, relationship with magical skunks.

Their only defense mechanism was to spray a fast-evaporating green mist that couldn't be bottled or preserved, but could pierce through magical protective charms, like the Bubble-Head Charm the fourth-years had just learned.

Professor Sigma's task for them was simple: enter the classroom through the front door and leave through the back. If anyone managed to retrieve a certain silver pocket watch he'd "accidentally misplaced," they'd earn a whopping 30 house points.

No one dared go for the bonus at first. Everyone had one goal, get out alive.

Unfortunately, the skunks, now relocated from their natural habitat, had no intention of playing nice.

By the time half the class had gone in, not a single student had come out without vomiting.

And they still had to thank Professor Sigma for providing goggles, without them, a visit to the hospital wing would've been inevitable.

To everyone's surprise, one brave Gryffindor student actually completed the challenge, and even found the pocket watch!

Vomiting all the way, he raised the dark-silver timepiece in triumph, pride gleaming in his eyes.

He'd only done one extra thing, used the Summoning Charm.

"Accio!"

Clap clap clap!

Sigma gave him a standing ovation.

"As expected of a courageous Gryffindor, you've earned your house 30 points."

Then, with an inspiring smile, he added,

"I want all of you to remember this: no matter how impossible something looks, don't give up before you try. It might not be as hard as it seems!"

That motivational line slightly restored Professor Sigma's plummeting popularity.

Allen, however, scoffed.

"Tch. That's just a cup of generic motivational soup. I can serve that up all day."

Still, even Allen had begun practicing his spells with renewed urgency. Friday was coming.

And who knew what Sigma was planning next?

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