Sylas knew this dark power all too well.

It was the residue of a Morgul blade, a wound that no ordinary magic could heal.

His expression hardened.

The Kraken, writhing in pain, bled freely into the parted lake. Whatever had struck it had done so with precision and malice.

But there was no time to speculate. The creature's agony came first.

Raising his wand, Sylas invoked a string of healing spells in rapid succession, even the dark-countering remedy of Sectumsempra devised by Snape himself.

None took hold. The wound only shuddered, its edges blackening further with each attempt.

Frowning, Sylas reached into his robe and withdrew a golden chalice, its rim engraved with runes of purification. Scooping up lake water, he swirled it three times, whispering an incantation, and poured it gently over the wound.

At once, the bleeding slowed. The Kraken's trembling eased, the corrupted flesh knitting slightly beneath the water's touch.

Still, Sylas's brows did not lift. He knew too well that the visible injury was the least of the danger.

Fragments of a Morgul blade always remained, tiny shards of cursed metal that burrowed deeper into the body, seeking the heart. Once they reached it, the victim would be consumed, transformed into a puppet of the Netherworld.

Without hesitation, Sylas transformed into his Phoenix form. The air shimmered gold as he bent his burning beak over the wound and let fall several tears.

Each droplet sizzled upon contact, bursting with radiant heat and divine light. Wisps of black smoke curled upward as the corruption fled the flesh, the embedded fragments melting and rising to the surface like ash driven from fire.

The Kraken's body shuddered once more, then relaxed. Its immense eyes blinked, and it let out a low, grateful cry that echoed across the lake.

"Alright," Sylas said, his tone calm but commanding. "Tell me what happened. Who wounded you?"

The Kraken thrashed its tentacles weakly, releasing a string of guttural, mournful sounds. Sylas closed his eyes, opening his mind to its thoughts through telepathy, and what he sensed made him frown deeply.

The creature had not even seen its attacker.

It had been preparing to devour an intruder, a small, skulking figure, when suddenly a blade had struck from the depths. Then the assailant vanished without a trace, leaving only pain and shadow.

Sylas extended his hand, conjuring an illusion of Gollum's twisted shape from memory.

"Was it this one?" he asked.

The Kraken's eyes flared and it bobbed its massive head in confirmation.

Sylas's expression grew grim.

So Gollum had come here. And the one who had struck the Kraken , a Ringwraith.

The implication was clear: Mordor's servants were already within his borders.

"If the Nazgûl are moving, it can only mean one thing," he murmured. "They seek the One Ring."

His mind raced.

If Gollum had escaped Mordor, then Sauron's spies were already searching westward. And yet, Sylas exhaled, the Ring itself was still safe. Hidden beyond reach, protected under the Fidelius Charm, resting in the care of Tom Bombadil, the only being untouched by its will.

Still, that uneasy flicker would not leave his chest.

"Guide me," Sylas commanded, lifting his wand.

A beam of light shot forth, streaking across the water and pointing toward the distant Hogsmeade shore. Without hesitation, he Apparated there, but as soon as he arrived, the beam began to tremble and distort, its direction spinning wildly before fading away.

Some force was interfering with his spell, masking Gollum's presence.His eyes narrowed.

"Revelio!" he called, sweeping his wand in a wide arc.

Nothing.

Not a single trace of human life near the shore.

A shadowed shield of magic, likely the work of a Nazgûl.

Sylas's frown deepened. He returned to his tower in an instant and reached for the Palantír resting beneath a silken cloth. Perhaps the crystal eye would reveal what the earth concealed.

But the moment he gazed into its depths, fire erupted within.

A vast, flaming Eye filled the crystal, glaring straight into his soul.

"Sauron," Sylas hissed, his teeth clenched.

Before the Eye could pierce further, he seized the Light of Eärendil, raised it high, and cast its brilliance into the orb.

The darkness recoiled with a hiss, and the Eye vanished.

Still, the threat was clear: the Master Palantír in Barad-dûr had locked onto his. Sauron could watch, could listen, through it whenever he wished.

Sylas sealed the crystal immediately, encasing it in a Mithril box inscribed with runes of warding. Only then did he exhale.

With the palantír useless, Sylas considered taking Felix Felicis to find Gollum. But after some thought, he decided it wasn't worth wasting it on this matter.

Gollum himself was inconsequential. What mattered was Sauron's intent, his awareness of the Ring's trail.

He would not allow darkness to creep closer unnoticed.

With a soft whoosh, flames enveloped his form, and a golden-red Phoenix burst into the night sky.

Its radiant light cut through the mist, flooding the valley in brilliance.

A pure, melodic cry echoed through the heavens, a sound imbued with magic, a harmony woven from the Ring of Fire and the Phoenix's essence.

Its power calmed the hearts of the innocent and drove fear into creatures of shadow.

Beneath the song's radiance, the sleeping people of Hogsmeade smiled in their dreams.

And high above Weathertop, another guardian stirred.

Thorondor, now a mighty Thunderbird, unfurled his vast wings, lightning crackling across his feathers. He rose into the storm, circling the mountains, his keen eyes scanning every shadow below.

The night's search had yielded nothing.

Neither Gollum nor the Ringwraiths had shown themselves.

When dawn finally broke over Weathertop, Sylas sighed softly.Gollum's skill at hiding was, admittedly, remarkable.

As for the Ringwraiths, those creatures could slip freely into the Netherworld. Without special preparations, even Sylas could do little against them.

He finally dismissed the search, but not without caution. He wove layers of detection wards around the lake and the surrounding lands. If Gollum or any Wraith reappeared, the magic would alert him instantly.

Days passed. The tension slowly eased, replaced by the anticipation of his upcoming wedding.

Until, one morning, green fire burst forth from the castle's fireplace.

From within the emerald flames stumbled a short, round figure, his hair disheveled, clothes torn, eyes wide with panic.

"Sylas! He's here!" gasped Bilbo Baggins, nearly tripping over the hearth. "Gollum, he's in the Shire!"

Sylas's expression darkened. "What?"

He quickly stepped forward and raised his wand, scanning Bilbo from head to toe.

"Are you hurt?"

Bilbo shook his head, breathing heavily. His hands trembled; one bore a distinct bite mark.

"Just scratches, nothing serious. I escaped through the Floo Network from Bag End, but he's still there!"

Sylas immediately conjured healing light. The bite mark faded as warmth spread through Bilbo's hand.

"Then we waste no time," he said.

In a swirl of golden-red flame, the Phoenix flared. Sylas seized Bilbo's arm, and both vanished.

They reappeared within Bag End, and found chaos.

Books lay scattered. Drawers were overturned. The cozy Hobbit-hole, once so peaceful, looked as if a storm had passed through it.

But Gollum was gone.

Sylas frowned, his sharp eyes scanning the overturned furniture. The pattern was obvious: someone had been searching for something.

"He's after the One Ring," he murmured.

He drew his wand and whispered, "Revelio."

Golden mist unfurled from the wand's tip, filling the room like morning fog. The air shimmered, and the past came alive before their eyes.

Bilbo sat in his study, quill in hand, writing his travel notes, when a shadow crept from the doorway. Gollum's hunched figure lunged forward. A dull thud followed as a wooden club struck Bilbo's head.

The Hobbit fell unconscious.

Gollum tied him up, rummaging through his pockets first, then, finding nothing, tore through the room like a beast.

When every drawer, cupboard, and chest lay empty, frustration twisted his face into madness. He seized a kitchen cleaver, pressing it against Bilbo's throat.

"Where is it, thief? Where is my Precious?!"

Watching the replay, Sylas's jaw tightened.

But even in that moment, the little Hobbit had not lost his wits.

Bilbo, remembering the riddles under the Misty Mountains, spoke calmly, stalling for time.

"The Ring… yes, yes, I hid it… somewhere safe, somewhere far. But if you untie me, I'll take you to it. I swear it, Gollum."

His smooth words sowed just enough confusion. Gollum hesitated, then loosened the ropes around Bilbo's feet.

The moment his legs were free, Bilbo lashed out, kicking Gollum backward and bolting for the fireplace.

He seized a handful of Floo Powder, threw it into the flames, and shouted the first destination that came to mind;

"Weathertop Castle!"

For a moment, Sylas thought Gollum would flee Bag End after failing to find the One Ring.

But to his surprise, the wretch's gaze lingered on the small pile of remaining Floo Powder beside the hearth.

Gollum tilted his head, muttering to himself, then scooped up a handful of the glittering powder and tossed it into the fireplace. Green flames roared to life, filling the room with ghostly light.

Cautiously, he reached one trembling hand into the fire, and when no pain came, his eyes widened in astonishment.

A grin twisted his pale face. He stepped fully into the emerald blaze, his mouth moving silently as he spoke a destination.

Even without hearing the words, Sylas could read the shape of his lips:

"Hogwarts Castle."

Sylas's brow furrowed.

"So… we just missed him."

Bilbo's expression turned stricken. "I'm sorry, Sylas! I didn't mean to drag trouble to your doorstep..."

Sylas shook his head, resting a calm hand on the Hobbit's shoulder.

"You've done nothing wrong, old friend. If anything, he's walked right into the trap meant for him."

He flicked his wand. Instantly, Bag End returned to pristine order, chairs righted, papers re-stacked, drawers restored.

With another graceful wave, he sealed the Floo Network, closing the magical gate that had allowed Gollum's escape.

Then, taking Bilbo by the arm, he vanished in a burst of golden fire.

By the time they reappeared within Weathertop Castle, the air was already charged with power.

Dark clouds swirled above the towers.

Thunder rolled, and lightning flashed as Thorondor, the mighty Thunderbird, circled overhead, his cry echoing across the mountains like the voice of a storm god.

Inside, portraits along the walls were alive with chatter, painted figures leaning from their frames, shouting reports of an intruder.

"He's here!" cried one portrait.

"The creature slipped in through the fireplaces!"

Sylas stopped before a familiar portrait—his own likeness, rendered in oils.

"Where is he now?" he asked.

The painted Sylas pointed toward the corridor above.

"The seventh floor. He was last seen near the chimney."

Without another word, Sylas vanished with a sharp crack of displaced air.

He reappeared in a long, dim corridor lined with suits of armor and flickering sconces.

Raising his wand, he whispered, "Hominum Revelio."

A pulse of light burst from the wandtip, expanding through the corridor in rippling waves. For a heartbeat, the air shimmered, and then something small, trembling, was revealed within the chimney's shadow.

"Found you," Sylas said softly, a wry smile curling his lips.

Gollum's bulging eyes reflected the light. With a desperate hiss, he snatched another handful of Floo Powder, scattering it frantically into the soot below.

"Bag End! The Shire! Mordor! Anywhere!"

The fire blazed green, but nothing happened.

The creature repeated the motion, again and again, naming places in wild panic as ash filled the air and soot caked his face. His voice cracked into hoarse sobs, eyes streaming tears of frustration.

Sylas watched, arms folded, amusement glinting in his gaze.

"The Floo Network is sealed," he said evenly. "You won't be running anywhere."

With a flick of his wrist, the bricks of the fireplace rumbled apart, revealing the soot-covered intruder crouched within like a trapped animal.

"Petrificus Totalus."

The spell struck true. Gollum went rigid mid-scream, limbs locked in place.

...

Stones Plzzz

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