In LOTR with Harry Potter system

After finishing up with the Mandrakes, Sylas and Gandalf returned to Bag End, where the warm glow of lantern-light spilled from the kitchen window. Bilbo was already bustling about, preparing supper for the three of them, bread freshly baked, mushroom stew simmering, and the unmistakable scent of Shire herbs wafting through the air.

As they sat back in the parlor, Gandalf, ever the curious scholar, had taken notice of the wand Sylas used to cast spells. It was unlike the staves used by the Istari, small, elegant, and carved with unfamiliar craftsmanship.

"I couldn't help but notice your wand, young Wizard," Gandalf said, eyes twinkling. "May I take a closer look?"

Sylas smiled. "Of course. I'd be honored, if I might also examine your staff in return."

With a warm chuckle, Gandalf handed over his vinewood staff without hesitation, while Sylas passed him the wand. Gandalf turned the wand over in his fingers, studying the grain of the wood, then suddenly paused. "Magically charged… wait, this wood is from the Old Willow in the Old Forest, isn't it?"

Sylas nodded. "It is. That tree tried to take Buckleberry. I had to split it in two to stop it. Tom replanted the lower half deeper in the forest. I took the heartwood from the upper half to craft this wand."

"Well, that miserable tree certainly had it coming," Gandalf said with a grin. "It once tried to drown me when I was visiting Tom. Nasty temper. But clearly, it picked the wrong opponent this time."

As Gandalf continued examining the wand, his gaze sharpened with recognition. "There's something more… two magical signatures within, soft but deep. One of water, the other of earth. Are these… from Goldberry and Tom?"

Sylas blinked in surprise, impressed by the old Wizard's insight. "Yes. A strand of Goldberry's hair and a whisker from Tom. They allowed me to use them as the wand's core."

"Well now," Gandalf breathed, clearly impressed. "That's no small gift. They must hold you in high regard indeed."

"They're wonderful people," Sylas replied earnestly. "Kind and full of life."

Then, to Sylas's astonishment, Gandalf gave the wand an experimental wave, and the room exploded with shimmering magical fireworks. Sparks of blue and gold zipped through the air like festive sprites, while bursts of star-shaped lights rained down gently over the hearth.

"Whoa!" Bilbo clapped his hands in delight, as Sylas watched in stunned silence.

Gandalf, beaming like a child who had found a new toy, continued playing with the wand. He cast sparks, conjured gusts of wind, summoned harmless little flames, then finally handed it back, eyes shining like twin stars.

"Sylas, this wand… it's a work of pure brilliance. Simple materials, but perfectly balanced and versatile. It may not amplify power like a staff, but its precision and flexibility make it something any magic-user could wield. Aulë himself would be intrigued by your craftsmanship!"

"Uh, thank you for the compliment!" Sylas felt a little guilty. He knew that the Magic Wand crafting technique came from another world, and being praised so much by Gandalf made him feel undeserving.

Gandalf gave him a knowing smile. "True genius lies not just in invention, but in application. You've brought something new to Middle-earth, and it may well change the way many think about magic."

He leaned back, puffing on his pipe, then added thoughtfully, "Once word spreads, the Elves, Dwarves, even some Men might seek you out."

Sylas hesitated. "But aren't staffs also used for spellcasting?"

Gandalf grinned and pointed toward the staff. "See for yourself."

Sylas approached the staff, it towered over him, carved from twisted vinewood with a wild, untamed texture. At its top bloomed a spiral crown of wood, cradling a glowing blue gem that pulsed softly like a beating heart.

Gripping it with both hands, Sylas poured his magic into it and spoke, "Lumos Maxima!"

Immediately, a torrent of raw magical energy surged through him, far more than he intended. The staff seemed to drink in his power greedily, as if it had a will of its own. 

A surge of magic poured into the gem atop Gandalf's staff, and the moment it reached its threshold, the staff erupted with a blinding brilliance. The blue crystal burst into radiance so intense it filled all of Bag End with white light, brighter than sun or moon. Every corner, every nook, even the shadows under the chairs vanished in that instant of dazzling incandescence.

"Ah—my eyes!" Bilbo squeaked, squinting and shielding his face with both hands.

Sylas instinctively dropped the staff as if it had burned him. The blinding light ceased at once, plunging the room back into its gentle lamplight glow. The sudden contrast left them all blinking, eyes watering.

"Ha!" Gandalf chuckled, wiping tears from the corners of his eyes. "Sylas, you almost blinded this old man! You must be more careful, these eyes are just about the only part of me that haven't entirely rusted!"

Sylas wasn't the least bit fooled by Gandalf's jest. This so-called "old man" could ride a galloping horse for days without rest and wield a longsword with the strength of a warrior half his age. Pretending to be frail was perhaps Gandalf's most convincing magic trick of all.

Sylas turned toward Bilbo with concern. "Bilbo, are you alright? That light hit you head-on…"

The poor Hobbit was still blinking furiously, eyes glossy. "I—I'm fine. Just need a minute…" he said, voice dazed. "I thought I saw stars. Or possibly dinner. I'm not quite sure which."

Only when he was certain Bilbo was unharmed did Sylas refocus his attention on the staff. Its gem now glowed faintly, like an ember after a bonfire.

Gandalf grinned, stroking his beard. "So, what do you think? Quite the experience, isn't it?"

Sylas nodded slowly, his voice still tinged with awe. "It's… powerful. But I noticed, it doesn't just need magic. I had to guide it with my mind."

"Very observant," Gandalf said, pleased. "That's exactly right. Using a staff demands not only strong magical reserves but also mental discipline. You don't just pour in magic, you shape it, control it, or risk being overwhelmed."

He gestured to the crystal embedded in the staff's crown. "That gem is the heart of the staff. It gathers, amplifies, and releases energy. But magical gemstones are rare, mine came from an old Elven friend. It took years of work and wisdom to bind it properly into the wood."

Gandalf's tone grew more thoughtful. "That's why I say your wand design is so remarkable, Sylas. Staffs are mighty but limited in who can wield them. Your wand, on the other hand, can be used by anyone with even modest magic. It democratizes spellcasting. That's no small achievement."

Sylas listened carefully, his heart brimming with a mixture of pride and ambition. He hadn't expected his wand-making technique to be viewed as revolutionary by someone like Gandalf.

And yet, his gaze lingered on the staff.

Sylas couldn't deny his growing fascination with the staff. Though it demanded far more magical energy and mental focus than a wand, the sheer magnitude of its power was beyond comparison. More than that, a staff could draw upon the very essence of the world around it, stirring the ambient magic in air, earth, and sky, to unleash spells on a grand scale, far surpassing the precision of a single wand.

He realized then that staffs and wands were like two different languages of magic.

Wands were precise, elegant tools, perfect for control, charm, and subtlety.

Staffs were symphonies of strength, capable of commanding the sky and shaking the earth.

Sylas glanced at his wand, then at the staff, and a mischievous thought took root.

He wanted both.

...

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