In LOTR with Harry Potter system

Gandalf held the spear carefully, fingers brushing over the runes etched into its silvery shaft. His eyes gleamed with recognition, and a rare smile played on his face.

"Sylas," he said, his voice filled with awe, "your fortune truly borders on miraculous."

He looked around at the others, then back at the weapon. "If I'm not mistaken, this is no ordinary spear. This is Aeglos, the legendary spear of Gil-galad, High King of the Noldor. It was said to shine with the chill of winter's first frost and could pierce even the defenses of the Dark Lord."

Everyone froze. Even the Dwarves, often skeptical of Elven lore, turned toward the spear with reverent expressions.

"Aeglos," Gandalf continued, "stood beside Gil-galad in the final battle of the Second Age. It was with this very spear that he wounded Sauron during the Last Alliance. But after Gil-galad perished on the slopes of Mount Doom, Aeglos vanished without a trace."

He turned the spear in his hands, the tip shimmering faintly with cold light. "And now, here it is, lying forgotten in a goblin hoard beneath the Misty Mountains."

The cave was silent. Awe clung to the air like mist.

Even Thorin looked humbled, and the other Dwarves exchanged wide-eyed glances. Though Elves and Dwarves had long been at odds, none among them could deny the power of Gil-galad's name.

They all knew the story: Gil-galad, the last great High King of the Noldor, had forged an alliance with Elendil of Arnor. Together, they led the combined armies of Elves and Men across the Misty Mountains, through Rivendell, and down the Anduin River to the plains of Dagorlad. There, they clashed with Sauron's legions in a brutal war, finally laying siege to Barad-dûr itself.

In the final confrontation, Sauron was forced to emerge from the Dark Tower. Gil-galad and Elendil stood against him, and both fell. Gil-galad's body was turned to ash. Elendil's sword, Narsil, was shattered.

But the tale did not end there. Elendil's son, Isildur, rose from the carnage. With the shards of his father's blade, he struck off the finger that bore the One Ring, shattering Sauron's physical form and ending the war, for a time.

Now, standing in the flickering torchlight, Sylas held the very weapon that once pierced the Dark Lord's flesh.

He turned it in his hands, marveling at how light it felt despite its size. The spear was nearly two meters long, forged from a silvery metal. It shimmered like ice in moonlight, cold to the touch yet perfectly balanced.

Sylas could wield the spear with a single hand.

"Use it well," Gandalf said, his tone tinged with genuine envy. "This is the only weapon known to have touched Sauron's blood and survived. It holds the power to repel many creatures of shadow."

He ran his fingers along the engraved shaft, eyes distant. "Aeglos is no ordinary relic. It pierced the Dark Lord's armor once, perhaps it could even pierce the scales of a Dragon. It may prove a deciding weapon when we reach the Lonely Mountain."

"I'll wield it with care," Sylas replied solemnly, the weight of history in his grip.

He already had the Brisingr, a magical sword that blazed with conjured fire. But truly, who would ever complain about having too many weapons, especially when one of them was an indestructible elven relic forged to battle darkness itself?

And Sylas was starting to realize something else: while his magic was effective against goblins and lesser beasts, it might not be enough when facing creatures of Maia-level power, like a Dragon, or a Balrog.

He even doubted whether the Killing Curse would work on something like Smaug.

The curse targeted the soul, but dragons had souls that were ancient and impossibly strong. A Killing Curse cast by someone at Sylas's level might barely make the beast blink. He recalled what Barty Crouch Jr., disguised as Professor Moody, once said at Hogwarts: even if a fourth-year student mastered the Killing Curse and fired it at him, it would be more likely to give him a nosebleed than end his life.

In that case, artifact like Aeglos, blessed and tempered by elven hands for war, might well be the only way to leave a mark on such a monstrous foe.

Tucking Aeglos carefully into his magically expanded leather pouch, Sylas turned his attention to the mountains of treasure glinting all around them. Gold and silver coins, gemstones, goblets, and trinkets, untouched for ages, now his for the taking.

He didn't need treasure anymore, not really. But that didn't mean he was going to just leave it behind.

He grabbed a handful of pouches scattered across the floor and cast the Undetectable Extension Charm on them, expanding their interiors to a spacious two meters each.

With a flick of his wand, the piles of treasure floated and streamed like liquid light into the bags, coins, jewels, armor pieces, until more than a dozen were filled to the brim. He then tucked all those bags into a larger enchanted satchel.

The Dwarves were dumbfounded.

They looked down at their own bulging, heavy packs and suddenly felt very cheated.

Under the Dwarves' wide-eyed, resentful, and borderline pleading gazes, Sylas coughed into his hand, then sighed. "Alright, alright." He tapped each of their coin pouches with his wand, casting the same extension spell.

Even Thorin, who had initially refused to claim any treasure, received a spatial pouch, whether he liked it or not.

With that, the Dwarves cheered, stuffing their wealth, belongings, and even a few goblin trinkets into their newly expanded bags.

Kili and Fili were the most excited of all. They stuck their arms deep into the enchanted pouches until only their shoulders showed, then spun around pretending their arms had vanished. They gasped theatrically and pointed at one another, laughing like overgrown children.

Sylas smiled faintly at the scene, but then clapped his hands. "Alright, everyone, fun's over. We've still got a friend to find."

At the mention of Bilbo, the Dwarves immediately sobered, glancing at one another with guilty expressions.

"Oh no… we completely forgot about him!" Dwalin muttered.

Without wasting another second, the company hurried out of the treasure cavern and into the vast chamber overlooking a deep, shadowy abyss.

But once there, they froze.

The chasm below was steep, so deep that the bottom could barely be seen. The walls were jagged and sheer, offering no obvious path down.

"It's far too steep," Balin frowned, peering over the edge. "How in do we get down there?"

The others exchanged nervous looks.

"Jump," Sylas said casually. "I'll catch you with a Cushioning Charm."

And with that, he stepped forward, and leapt.

The Dwarves cried out in horror, rushing to the edge in panic.

"He just jumped?!"

"Oh dear, what if he falls to his death?" Bomber's face paled.

Before anyone could do more than gasp, Gandalf smiled, tipped his hat, and followed suit. "Do try to keep up."

Then he jumped too.

The Dwarves stared in wide-eyed disbelief.

"You go first," Kili nudged Fili.

"No, you go first!" Fili shot back.

Bofur leaned over to peek, but immediately recoiled with a yelp. "Nope. Nope nope nope. That's way too high! My stomach's still flipping from looking down."

While they hesitated, Thorin stepped forward, his face set with grim resolve. He gave them one last glance, then jumped without a word.

"Thorin!" several Dwarves shouted, their hearts leaping into their throats.

That did it. They couldn't risk losing their prince, this quest meant everything. Gritting their teeth and muttering prayers to Mahal, one by one, the rest of the Dwarves jumped in.

Wind howled in their ears as they plummeted, the rush of air pulling beards and cloaks in every direction. Screams echoed down the walls of the chasm.

Just as the rocky floor rushed up toward them;

"Arresto Momentum!" Sylas's voice rang out like a bell in the dark.

Their descent slowed instantly, like falling into molasses. The Dwarves hovered midair, a mere twenty centimeters above the ground.

For one blissful second, they sighed in relief.

Then the spell released.

Thud. Whump. Crack.

They landed face-first, limbs tangled in awkward heaps.

Groans filled the air as they scrambled upright.

"That was too exciting!" Balin wheezed, hand clutching his chest. "My poor heart can't take such thrills!"

Gandalf, already standing beside Sylas, chuckled at the chaos. "Come now, how often does one fall from such a height and survive to complain about it?"

"I'll pass," Bofur muttered, brushing dust from his coat. "Dwarves were meant for solid stone underfoot, not leaping off cliffs like madmen."

Then Kili blinked, looking around.

"Wait... where's Bilbo? Wasn't he supposed to be down here?"

The others turned in alarm, scanning the dark stone floor.

"No sign of him…" Fili murmured.

Sylas frowned. 'He was here before. But if he's still wearing the Ring…'

He reached into his cloak and pulled out the Palantír once more. 'Let's see if he's taken it off by now.'

...

Stones PLzz