In LOTR with Harry Potter system

"This should be the place," Gandalf said with certainty as he gazed at the stone platform.

Sylas nodded and guided his broomstick down for a landing.

As soon as they touched down, he released the spells and untied the rope, setting the Dwarves free.

The poor Dwarves looked thoroughly windblown, their beards tangled, their hair sticking out in every direction like wild brambles.

Thorin, still wearing his usual scowl, looked particularly annoyed. He muttered under his breath that no matter how steep or treacherous the path, he would walk next time rather than suffer another flight tied to Sylas's contraption.

Bilbo, by contrast, looked ruffled but exhilarated, his Tookish side clearly alight with excitement. The thrill of adventure sparkled in his eyes, as if he'd just ticked something off a secret bucket list.

"Stand by the grey stone when the thrush knocks, and the setting sun with the last light of Durin's Day will shine upon the keyhole," Thorin recited from memory.

He pulled out the map of Erebor and examined the mountain wall, tracing the instructions Elrond had revealed back in Rivendell.

"The grey stone… it must be this one," Thorin said, eyes locking onto a large grey boulder embedded in the cliffside.

He approached it with hope in his voice. "If I stand by this stone, I should be able to see the back door. But where is it? Where's the keyhole?"

He searched along the stone wall with growing urgency, running his hands over the weathered rock, but found nothing.

The other Dwarves quickly joined the search, combing every inch of the mountain face with fingers and eyes alike, searching for the hidden door or the elusive keyhole.

The longer they searched without result, the more Thorin's frustration grew. His hands clenched, and suspicion crept into his eyes.

"Elrond must have tricked us," he muttered darkly. "There's no door here!"

"Calm yourself, Thorin," Gandalf said firmly. "Now, more than ever, you must stay composed."

He stepped forward and pointed to the sun's position in the sky.

"The map clearly says the keyhole will be revealed by the last light of Durin's Day. It's still early. We just have to wait."

Thorin took a deep breath and forced himself to stillness, though tension still radiated from his posture.

"I'll wait," he said coldly. "But if the door doesn't appear, I swear I'll hold the Elves of Rivendell accountable for deceiving us."

Gandalf's brow furrowed, and his voice hardened. "Elrond's word is beyond reproach. You would do well to temper your prejudice, Thorin. Not every ill you suffer is caused by Elves."

Thorin grunted but gave no reply.

Gandalf turned and walked over to Sylas, lowering his voice. "The closer we get to the mountain, the more Thorin loses his composure. I fear what may come next."

He glanced back at the Dwarven prince with concern etched deep into his face.

"The madness of Durin's line… it's like a sickness in the blood. When it breaks free, it destroys everything around it."

Sylas gave a small shake of his head, trying to sound optimistic. "There's always a way, Gandalf. We'll find it, when the time comes."

"I hope you're right," Gandalf murmured.

Seeing Gandalf still troubled, Sylas shifted the topic. "If you're anxious about finding the back door of the Lonely Mountain, we might not need to wait until sunset. I believe I have a way."

Gandalf turned to him, eyebrows raised. "You've found a spell to reveal Dwarven doors?"

"Not exactly," Sylas replied, reaching into his robes and drawing out a dark, glassy orb, the Palantír.

"Besides being able to see distant scenes, the Palantír can also see past events, perhaps it can be used to find the location of the back door of the Lonely Mountain."

His voice wasn't low, and others nearby turned at once. The moment Thorin laid eyes on the crystal, he strode over with barely restrained excitement, his expression fierce.

"Sylas, use it. Quickly. Show us."

For a moment, it looked as though Thorin might snatch the orb from his hands. 

So this is dragon-sickness... Thorin's obsession had deepened. He wasn't unhinged yet, but the composure he once carried was fading fast.

Gandalf stepped closer, his voice edged with concern. "Smaug still sleeps within. When you use the Palantír, avoid looking directly into the dragon's lair. If it senses your gaze, even in slumber, we may have a problem."

Sylas gave a silent nod. He understood the risk.

The depth to which one could peer through the Palantír depended greatly on mental willpower. Though it was far beyond him to view the ancient days of Valinor or the First Age, glimpsing events from a few centuries past was well within reach.

A scene shimmered to life within the Palantír.

A stout Dwarf in regal armor appeared, an iron crown resting heavily on his brow. He stood at the very same stone platform where Sylas and the others now gathered. Slowly, the Dwarf approached the great grey rock. He waited in solemn silence as the twilight deepened, allowing the fading sun and the rising moon to cast their light upon the mountain wall.

The mingling beams focused on a particular point, and the Dwarf stepped forward. He withdrew a golden key and inserted it into a small, newly revealed hole in the stone. With a gentle twist, a hidden door groaned open in the rock face. Without hesitation, the crowned Dwarf stepped through and vanished within.

"That's my grandfather!" Thorin exclaimed, eyes fixed on the glowing orb. His voice wavered slightly, caught between excitement and reverence.

Spurred by the vision, Thorin hurried to the base of the mountain wall and began tracing the stone with his hands, guided by what he had just seen.

"The door is here… the key-hole should be just around, why isn't it showing?"

He pressed his palms flat, searching every crevice. But the wall remained smooth, featureless, and unyielding.

Gandalf moved beside him, tapping the wall lightly with his staff.

"I suspect the key-hole is concealed," he said. "The Dwarves must have crafted it to respond only under very specific conditions, sunset on Durin's Day, when the final ray of light intersects with the moonbeam. Only then will the entrance be revealed."

"So we still have to wait," one of the others muttered, the realization dawning on the group.

Thorin clenched his fists but offered no rebuttal. Though he bristled with impatience, Gandalf's explanation made sense. All they could do now was endure the hours until sunset.

Sylas, meanwhile, studied the stone wall with curiosity. Dwarves did not use magic in the traditional sense, yet their craftsmanship was imbued with strange resilience and hidden artistry. He wondered if his magic might interact with it all the same.

"Let me try something," he said quietly.

He stepped forward, wand already in hand. Focusing on the place where the key-hole had appeared in the vision, he pointed the tip and murmured, "Alohomora."

A faint click echoed almost immediately.

The mountain gave a low groan, and a series of ancient gears stirred beneath the stone. Dust fell from the wall, and with a grinding sound, a rectangular outline revealed itself. Then, slowly, a stone door swung inward.

Everyone stared.

"Well," Sylas said with a small smile, "looks like we don't need to wait after all."

The Dwarven builders had designed the door to respond to exacting conditions, sun, moon, and a golden key, but they had never accounted for Sylas's spellcraft.

...

Stones Plzzz

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