In LOTR with Harry Potter system

Sylas did not respond to the Dragon's question.

Smaug's voice was laced with more than malice, it carried ancient power, like a siren's song wrapped in fire and shadow. His words weaved through the air like spells, seductive and commanding, their rhythm designed to beguile even the sharpest minds.

His gaze, glowing with hellish light, could enthrall the weak-willed in the unprepared. One glance into those eyes was enough to turn courage into compliance. Even his treasure hoard radiated residual enchantment, infecting the hearts of mortals with greed and madness.

It was no surprise Thorin's bloodline bore the curse. Dragon-sickness, madness born of gold and fire, was Smaug's lingering venom.

Dragons were not mere beasts.

They were near-perfect instruments of destruction, intelligent, perceptive. They could charm with their voices, curse with their gaze, and burn armies to ash. They were Morgoth's crowning creations, born in shadow, raised in wrath.

Without hesitation, Sylas raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra!"

The green light burst from his wand with crackling fury. It struck Smaug directly in the chest, piercing the silence like a bolt from the gods.

The Dragon roared.

A shriek of agony thundered through the halls as the beast reared back, scales shuddering, wings flailing. Then, with a crashing avalanche of gold and jewels, he fell, eyes dimming, limbs slack, into his hoard.

Bilbo clung to Sylas's cloak.

"Is… is he dead?" he asked in a trembling voice.

Sylas stared at the fallen beast, stunned. His hand, still holding his wand aloft, did not lower.

Before they could move closer, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the halls.

Gandalf and the Dwarves appeared, their eyes widening in disbelief at the sight before them.

The great Dragon, the doom of Dale and Erebor, lay motionless.

For a moment, silence ruled.

Then Thorin Oakenshield let out a cry of triumph, echoed by the others.

They shouted and embraced, overcome with euphoria. Tears welled in some of their eyes.

Thorin stepped forward, shaking with emotion. "It's over…" he whispered. "The mountain… the throne… they are mine again…"

But Gandalf, ever watchful, did not join the celebration. His eyes narrowed.

"Get back!" he suddenly barked. "He's not dead yet!"

As if on cue, the darkness lit up.

A crimson light flared in the Dragon's eyes, now burning with undying hatred. A low growl rumbled from deep within his chest, swelling into a roar of pure wrath.

Smaug reared up, wings unfurling like storm clouds. "YOU DARE!" he bellowed.

A wave of searing fire erupted from his mouth, rushing toward them like the wrath of a vengeful god.

Sylas reacted instantly.

"Protego Maxima!"

A shimmering dome of radiant magic flared to life, encasing the group.

Dragon-fire slammed into the shield.

The entire hall trembled.

The air turned molten. Gold liquefied on impact. Stones cracked. The shield bent and screamed under the heat, veins of white-hot energy laced its surface.

Sylas gritted his teeth, pushing every ounce of magic into the spell.

Even though the Dragon fire was blocked from directly incinerating them, the intense heat alone was suffocating, pressing down on everyone like a blazing inferno. Sweat poured from their brows, and their lungs burned with every breath.

Worse still, Smaug wasn't relying on flame alone. As he roared and spewed fire, he swung his enormous tail like a war hammer. The crushing force of it shattered the stone floor and sent tremors through the mountain.

"Back! Into the great hall! Don't stay in the open!" Gandalf shouted, urgency in his voice.

The Dwarves didn't hesitate. They broke into a full retreat, diving behind stone columns for cover and sprinting toward the hall's protective archways.

Gandalf followed, his staff raised to shield the rear.

At the back of the group, Sylas and Bilbo darted through the smoke and rubble on a flying broomstick. Just as the magical barrier shielding them gave way with a crackling hiss, Sylas veered sharply, narrowly avoiding a pillar of fire.

Smaug's voice echoed with madness. "Wizard! Dwarves! Hobbit! I will turn you all to ash!"

The Dragon tore through the treasury with reckless fury, crashing through walls and collapsing pillars with his sweeping tail. Every beat of his wings stirred up a gust of heat and dust. It was clear now, Smaug had fixated on Sylas.

'That spell.'

Though it hadn't pierced his scales, Avada Kedavra had nearly reached his soul. If his will had been any weaker, he would have died. The realization filled Smaug with primal rage, and fear.

Never before had he faced such a direct threat. And so, he hunted Sylas with singular wrath.

"Sylas! He's gaining on us!" Bilbo cried out, clinging tightly to the broomstick.

Looking back, Sylas saw the enormous, flaming figure closing in fast, wings spread wide, maw glowing with fire. He jerked the broom into a tight spiral, just dodging a stream of flame that vaporized a row of stone carvings.

Seeing the Dragon refusing to relent, Sylas's eyes narrowed. They couldn't keep running forever.

In a flash of memory, he recalled an old charm from the magical world used to deal with Dragons.

With resolve hardening in his chest, Sylas spun the broomstick sharply in mid-air and flew straight toward the beast.

"Hold on!" he called to Bilbo, who barely had time to brace himself.

Smaug roared at the sudden reversal, eyes glowing like molten gold, jaws opening for another blast of Dragon fire.

But before the flames erupted, Sylas raised his wand and shouted, "Oculus Caecus!", the Eye-Blinding Curse.

A streak of searing white light lanced from his wand and struck Smaug directly in the eye.

The Dragon howled. Darkness swallowed his vision. 

Blinded and disoriented, Smaug thrashed midair, wings faltering. His massive form slammed into the mountainside with an earth-shaking crash, sending gold coins and broken stone flying in all directions.

Even Dragons, for all their might, had their weaknesses, and the eyes were among the few.

Sylas wasn't sure how long the Eye-Blinding Curse would last on Smaug, but the Dragon's erratic, fiery rampage made one thing clear, this was not the moment to test fate.

Veering away from the frenzied beast, Sylas urged the broomstick into a dive. They soared through the dust-choked air and sped toward the main hall of the Lonely Mountain.

When they landed, Gandalf, Thorin, and the other Dwarves were already gathered.

"Bilbo!" Thorin strode forward, eyes sharp. "Did you get it? Did you find the Arkenstone?"

Bilbo's shoulders drooped. "I....I saw it. But I didn't have time. Smaug was already there."

Thorin's face twisted in disappointment. His voice turned cold. "So our 'Master Burglar' abandoned his task the moment danger came. Typical."

Bilbo flinched, shame reddening his face. "I'm sorry…"

But before he could say more, Sylas stepped forward, placing himself firmly between Thorin and the Hobbit. His expression was frigid.

"We risked our lives to draw Smaug's attention. If you're so eager to reclaim your stone, Thorin Oakenshield, why don't you sneak into the treasury now?" His tone sharpened. "And you'd best hope your precious Arkenstone hasn't already been scorched to ash, because if it has, there will be no King Under the Mountain."

Thorin's face darkened further, lips curling into a grimace. The others fell silent, some exchanging uneasy glances.

They all knew the truth of Sylas's words.

Dragon-fire wasn't ordinary flame, it was devastating. The Dwarf-rings of power had proven no match for it. Gold melted like butter; even enchanted relics had perished in such infernos.

If the Arkenstone had indeed been touched by flame… there might be nothing left to rule.

"Enough," Gandalf interrupted, his voice steady but urgent. "The stone can wait. What matters now is stopping Smaug. If we don't, it won't just be us who suffer, Lake-town will burn."

That warning jolted the others back to focus.

Balin was the first to speak: "We might lure him to the old forge. Flood it with molten iron. Dragons may be fireproof, but no creature walks away from that unscathed."

Dwalin added, "There's a chamber of acid pools near the lower mines. It once corroded a mithril blade. If we could lure him there…"

Fíli offered another plan: "Explosives. We use them to draw his attention, throw him off balance, if nothing else, it'll buy us time."

They fell into quick discussion, splitting into groups, each Dwarf preparing tools, scouting pathways, or laying traps. Plans took shape in minutes.

But even as Sylas nodded at their strategies, something else suddenly flickered before his eyes.

A silver-edged prompt, clear as parchment ink, floated in his vision:

[Hogwarts Sign-In System: Location detected, Lonely Mountain. Would you like to sign in?]

Mentally, he affirmed: 'Sign in.'

[Sign-in successful. Congratulations! You've obtained: "The Book of Abraham."]

Sylas's eyes widened. 'The Book of Abraham?'

He opened the first page and looked, and instantly his pupils contracted, and his breathing became somewhat rapid.

...

Stones PLzz

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