In LOTR with Harry Potter system

After departing from the Lonely Mountain, Sylas and his two companions made their way to Dale, where they planned to stay for a while.

Smaug, being far too large to conceal in any civilized place, was sent off to hunt in the Great Wilderness surrounding Erebor. Sylas had instructed him to remain hidden there, ready to be summoned at a moment's notice.

Much of Dale had been ravaged during Smaug's original attack, many buildings lay in ruins, blackened by dragon fire. Even with Sylas's magic, there was little he could do to restore all that had been lost.

Still, the trio returned to the modest house they had used before. Its fireplace was enchanted and remained connected to Rivendell through the Floo Network.

Gandalf, ever restless, barely paused to catch his breath before announcing his next course of action. He intended to find Bard, the leader of Lake-town, and urge him to lead his people north to Dale.

Unlike the exposed plains of Lake-town, Dale was naturally fortified, surrounded by high terrain and nestled close to Erebor. If Orcs threatened the region, the city could quickly call upon reinforcements, forming a defensive bulwark strong enough to repel any invasion.

Without such cooperation, Gandalf feared that the Orcs, methodical and merciless, would conquer each settlement one by one.

Lake-town, perched vulnerably on the open lake with no walls or fortifications, would stand no chance against a true assault. For the safety of its people, Gandalf needed to act swiftly, relocating them to the safety of the northern stronghold.

And if fate allowed, he hoped to convince Thranduil, the Elvenking of Mirkwood, to join the alliance as well. Though aloof and proud, Thranduil had a deep love for his forest and would surely act if its safety were threatened.

When Smaug had finally been subdued, Sylas and Gandalf had questioned him thoroughly, particularly about his connection to the Orcs.

The great dragon, still shaken by his defeat, answered truthfully.

According to Smaug, the Orcs had first reached out to him when Azog was still alive, proposing an alliance. But Smaug, ever possessive of his hoard, had no desire for conquest or rule, only solitude and gold. He had refused.

But times had changed. Azog's son, Bolg, had approached more recently, warning Smaug that Thorin Oakenshield meant to reclaim Erebor. With this looming threat, the two had struck a bargain.

Smaug would allow Bolg's armies to pass through his territory and march northward toward the ruins of Angmar. In exchange, Bolg would recognize Smaug as the sovereign of the Lonely Mountain and promised him half the treasures from their future conquests.

Now that the dragon was no longer a threat and firmly under Sylas's control, Bolg would surely see Erebor as vulnerable. Gandalf feared that a large-scale assault was imminent, one that could change the fate of the North.

While Gandalf worked tirelessly to prepare for the storm ahead, Sylas had his own goals to pursue.

One morning, just as the sun's first golden rays kissed the rooftops of Dale, Sylas stood in quiet concentration, wand pressed lightly against his chest.

"Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus," he whispered, his voice calm and measured.

A strange sensation followed, like a second heartbeat stirring deep within him. It pulsed faintly beneath the first, slow and steady, almost in harmony with his own. Sylas stood still, marveling at the odd, magical rhythm.

Sylas was thrilled by the sensation, this rhythmic, second heartbeat was the long-anticipated sign of success. The Animagus transformation was near.

Without wasting a moment, he pulled out his Palantír and focused it on the High Pass of the Misty Mountains. The glass sphere shimmered, revealing a storm-wracked sky over the peaks, thick with black clouds and forked lightning.

Perfect.

Leaving Bilbo behind in Dale, Sylas stepped into the enchanted fireplace, murmured "Rivendell," and vanished in a whirl of green flame. Upon arrival, he mounted his broomstick and took off into the skies, soaring toward the Misty Mountains without delay.

The storm at the High Pass was in full fury. Rain slashed through the air in sheets, and the thunder roared like warring giants. Sylas flew low, close to the jagged terrain, wary of lightning striking from above.

After some time, he found the spot he'd marked long ago. Landing carefully amid the howling wind, he dug into the damp soil and retrieved a small, crystal vial buried deep beneath the rocks.

The liquid inside, once clear, had transformed into a vivid, blood-red elixir, just as it should have. Sylas's eyes lit up with satisfaction.

He took off at once, broom cutting through the rain like a silver arrow, and made his way back to the sanctuary of Rivendell. This potion, brewed over weeks, was the final requirement for his Animagus ritual.

Once back, he didn't head straight for the Floo fireplace to return to Dale. The transformation required seclusion, an open space with no risk of interference. Somewhere both safe and silent.

"Was your journey successful, Sylas?" came a familiar voice.

Elrond had returned from Lothlórien and greeted him with a calm smile.

Sylas nodded gratefully. "Lord Elrond, I need a private chamber. Somewhere secure. The final stage of my Animagus transformation will be... intense."

Elrond understood the gravity of the request. He was curious himself, after all, only the Skin-changers of the North were known to assume animal form. A wizard achieving such a feat would be unprecedented in Middle-earth.

He led Sylas to a spacious and ancient chamber beneath the eastern wing of Rivendell.

"This is the Hall of Flames," Elrond explained, opening the heavy door. "A place of meditation, sealed from the outside world. The hearths here burn without wood, enchanted with old Elven flame. I come here when I need clarity of thought."

Two fireplaces burned quietly on either end of the hall, their golden light casting long shadows across the marble floor. Mysterious Elvish runes were etched into the stone beneath Sylas's feet. The very air hummed with serenity and magic.

Sylas could feel it the moment he entered, his thoughts cleared, his heart steadied. This place was perfect.

He turned to Elrond with deep gratitude. "Thank you. This... this is exactly what I need."

Elrond offered a nod of encouragement, then departed, leaving Sylas alone beneath the flickering flames.

Drawing his wand once more, Sylas pressed it gently to his chest. His voice was calm, resolute.

"Amato, Animo, Animato, Animagus."

He uncorked the vial and drank the crimson liquid in one gulp.

Instantly, a second heartbeat thundered through his chest, louder than before. The sound echoed in the chamber, quick and wild.

Then came the pain.

His bones burned. His muscles twisted. His skin crawled as if being peeled and reforged. It was agony, not unlike the Cruciatus Curse. But Sylas clenched his jaw, sweat dripping from his brow. He refused to resist. He let the magic reshape him.

A vision filled his mind, a single, vivid image of the creature that matched his soul. Its form grew sharper with every passing second.

Then it began.

His limbs shrank. His robes dissolved into his skin, becoming part of his new body. Feathers sprouted, fanning outward. His eyes sharpened, his talons stretched, and the world reformed around him in dazzling clarity.

Where Sylas had stood only moments ago, there now perched a great eagle owl, majestic and silent, eyes gleaming with uncanny intelligence.

It had a rounded head topped with distinctive ear tufts. Its feathers were a rich blend of golden yellow and deep black, its sharp golden eyes gleaming with a piercing, icy glint. A hooked beak curved down like a scythe, and its talons, coiled and powerful, hid blades as deadly as any dagger.

Eagle owls were already known to be among the largest of their kind, but the creature Sylas had become was even larger than any eagle owl seen in Middle-earth.

He stood nearly a full meter tall, and when he spread his wings, the span stretched over three meters from tip to tip.

During the first few moments of transformation, Sylas felt disoriented and awkward.

Peering downward, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the polished marble floor of the Hall of Flames.

"So, my Animagus matches my Patronus… an owl?" he murmured internally.

The discovery left him both surprised and unsurprised.

He had once hoped for a majestic eagle, sleek, noble, and fierce. But an owl? It was a wise choice in its own right. Owls were silent predators of the night, capable of flight in complete darkness. With their heightened senses, they made ideal scouts, spies, and stealth agents.

A perfect Animagus for someone who often worked in the shadows.

But transforming into an owl didn't mean he could fly effortlessly.

He flapped his wings clumsily, stumbling and crashing around the hall. Feathers scattered in his wake like autumn leaves. Several times, he ended up tumbling beak-first into the ground.

Only after dozens of failed attempts did he finally lift off.

It was a strange and exhilarating feeling. Though Sylas had flown many times on a broomstick, this was entirely different.

Once airborne, he found the hall too confining and swiftly glided through one of the tall, arched windows, soaring above Rivendell.

He circled the Elven refuge, catching views of its cascading waterfalls and ivy-wrapped towers. The wind whispered around him like an old friend.

Down below, on a high balcony, Elrond gazed up into the sky and smiled quietly at the sight.

Once he'd had his fill of flight, Sylas dove smoothly toward the overlook and landed beside Elrond, transforming in a flash of light back into his human form.

"Thank you, Lord Elrond," he said sincerely, brushing a few stray feathers from his cloak. "If not for your help, I might never have completed the transformation so quickly."

Elrond shook his head with a calm expression. "You accomplished this through your own will and effort. I merely gave you the space to realize it."

He paused, then asked with curiosity, "How did your journey fare?"

Sylas briefly recounted everything that had happened at the Lonely Mountain.

When he reached the part about subduing Smaug the Dragon, Elrond, usually composed, showed genuine astonishment.

Dragons, after all, were the creations of Morgoth himself. Not even Sauron had ever fully controlled one. For Sylas, a young wizard, to bind such a creature was beyond extraordinary.

At first, Elrond worried this might be some ruse by the dragon. But when Sylas described the binding contract sealed under Gandalf's watch and enforced by an Unbreakable Vow, Elrond's doubts faded.

He trusted Gandalf's wisdom, and he knew the old wizard would not act without good reason.

When Sylas requested aid in healing the dragon's wounds, Elrond agreed without hesitation.

Soon after, Sylas prepared to return to Dale.

But this time, he chose not to use the Floo network.

Instead, he transformed back into his Animagus form, eager to test his flying skills further and explore the wild skies above the Misty Mountains.

Though he had completed the transformation once, it was still new to him. He required his wand to perform it, and could not yet cast the spell wandlessly like Professor McGonagall. Mastering that would take much more practice.

In time, perhaps he could even learn to absorb his wand into his Animagus body, a rare feat only the most skilled magical shapeshifters could manage.

So the journey continued.

The Misty Mountains loomed vast and gray, their peaks wrapped in cloud. Sylas flew over cliffs and ridgelines, spotting distant signs of trolls, orcs, and wargs below, but he didn't stop.

He pressed eastward until he crossed into the wild lands beyond the mountains.

That's when he met the Great Eagles.

They spotted him before he noticed them, huge shapes diving through the air with terrifying speed.

Sylas froze in midair, startled, unsure whether they took him for prey. He began preparing to shift back into human form when one of the Eagles called out with a deep, booming voice:

"What are you? You look like an owl… but you don't smell like one. You smell like a human."

One of the Eagles circled him, wings cutting through the clouds like blades, its golden eyes narrowed with curiosity as it studied him closely.