The world is full of all kinds of helpless situations, but over ninety percent of them can usually be traced back to one root cause, poverty.
After rushing into the library and flipping through every book related to curses that he could get his hands on, Allen was met with a frustrating realization, while many of the books mentioned cases similar to his own, none offered a real solution. Without exception, they were filled with page after page of useless fluff, describing only the symptoms and tragic ends of the cursed victims (which, incidentally, thoroughly disgusted Allen), but not a single word about how to actually break such curses.
It was like flipping to the back of a textbook only to find that the "answer key" said nothing but "answers may vary." Utterly useless. A complete joke.
As for the books in the Restricted Section, well, under Madam Pince's sharp gaze, Allen chose to back off. Discretion was the better part of valor.
Fortunately, even though he couldn't explain the full situation to the school nurse, Allen still had two options available to him. Unfortunately, both required a hefty sacrifice, those shiny little darlings called Galleons.
As the saying goes, being broke is a terrifying thing, and both of these options nudged Allen further along the road to poverty.
Option One: Purchase the legacy of the Eternal Nightmare, a creature born from the deepest depths of nightmares. A being like that would never be troubled by a mere emotion-based curse. Allen even suspected that once he inherited its power, he might not only become immune to the pharaoh's curse but absorb it outright.
He was fairly confident about this. After all, the only reason he was able to wake up so quickly from the curse's depressive outbreak was due to the system's built-in curse resistance, and the support of the Scarecrow's power.
The catch? The price matched its power, 480 gleaming Galleons. Nearly half of Allen's entire fortune.
Option Two: The legacy of Soraka, the Starchild, a demigoddess who missed her chance at true godhood due to her overwhelming compassion. A vengeful healer who once trapped a genius chemist inside the body of a wolf. A hero who once stood at the pinnacle of Valoran.
Allen had previously avoided her power for one reason: her abilities were simply too gentle. In the wizarding world, where curses like the Killing Curse existed, healing was far less practical than a solid shield. Or so he thought at the time.
But once he realized that the most expensive heroes in the system were also the easiest to inherit, his priorities began to shift. After all, time was running out. He couldn't afford to wait until the final battle to show up and toss Dumbledore a healing potion and a stat buff.
What a joke! He wasn't the kind of person to sit back and watch others save the world, especially when others couldn't be trusted to get the job done.
He chose Soraka for one reason, her ultimate skill could cleanse all negative conditions below spell-level, making it a perfect counter to curses.
And it wasn't just any spell. It was a demigod-tier skill, on par with Soraka herself.
Suddenly, what had once seemed like a weak, niche ability became godlike in a world where Merlin was the pinnacle of magical power. To Allen, this was the ultimate anti-curse trump card.
Taking into account both cost and effectiveness, Allen ultimately chose Soraka's power.
And just as he'd hoped, the legacy of the so-called "Healer of Valoran" proved to be a nightmare for every curse imaginable.
But of course, that power came with a tiny drawback, hardly worth mentioning, really.
As her name suggested, Soraka was the Starchild.
Which meant her powers needed starlight to properly function and grow.
The good news? Hogwarts, untouched by modern pollution, boasted one of the world's most pristine night skies, not to mention its infamously tall Astronomy Tower, loathed by students for its endless stair-climbing.
For Allen, though, it was a godsend. An ideal training ground.
The bad news? Well, everyone, even Muggles, knew you could only see the stars at night. And while Soraka's powers could still be used during the day, training had to happen at night…
And let's not forget: Allen already had a mountain of responsibilities this year, including punitive labor assignments from the school and a mysterious stone slab tucked away in the Room of Requirement.
At this rate, Allen felt like the wizarding world had transformed before his eyes into a xianxia realm. He could kiss a full night's sleep goodbye.
••┈┈┈┈┈༓┈┈┈┈┈•••
After a long night of scrubbing by the students, and tireless work from the house-elves, Hogwarts was finally back to its former glory. The sandy, desert-blasted look was gone, and the castle no longer resembled something freshly unearthed from beneath the dunes.
After breakfast, the first-years of Hufflepuff House finally welcomed the class they'd been waiting for: Defense Against the Dark Arts.
Everyone was especially curious about their mysterious new professor from the East. They had already spent countless hours speculating on what kind of lessons he might deliver. In the end, their greatest hope was simple: even if he had a bit of a dark sense of humor like Professor Sigma, anything was better than that dry old bore from two years ago who did nothing but read aloud from the textbook.
Of course, their opinions didn't really matter. Professors were assigned regardless of student preference, not even Professor McGonagall could change that.
Thankfully, it seemed they'd lucked out. This one actually knew his stuff.
As the eager students looked on, Allen watched with bleary eyes as the professor entered the room. He pulled out a wand from the absurdly oversized sleeves of his robe and tapped the desk in front of him. Instantly, the desk perked up and toddled off to the corner.
"All right, kids, everyone up, clear the chairs! We won't be needing them today!"
Cheers broke out across the classroom. Whatever was coming, it wasn't going to be another boring textbook session.
Once the students stood, the remaining desks and chairs obediently tiptoed to the edges of the room under the professor's command.
After everything was cleared, the professor instinctively reached toward his waist, only to frown when he found nothing there.
"Well, well. As per my agreement with Dumbledore, I'm not allowed to drink during class. What a devilish contract..." Allen, with his sharp ears, caught the muttered complaint.
Then, louder: "Now that we have enough space, it's time to welcome our old friend!"
At his words, a house-elf wheeled in a massive barrel, one Allen strongly suspected had once been filled with the professor's personal stash.
The moment the lid opened, a wave of disappointment swept through the class, inside was the same yellow sand they had already seen the day before. If there was any difference… it was that this time, it filled an entire barrel.
Seeing the students' disappointed faces, the professor patted the rim of the barrel.
As he tapped in rhythm, a sticky, vaguely humanoid creature composed entirely of sand slowly emerged. It had limbs, sort of, and stood upright.
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