[Sign-in successful. Congratulations on acquiring The Invisible Book of Invisibility!]
A faint shimr passed through the air in front of Sylas, unseen by anyone but him. A translucent to hovered briefly before vanishing into his magical inventory.
By now, Sylas had grown used to these sign-ins and their mysterious rewards. He barely flinched in front of the others, keeping a straight face.
But as he briefly skimd the contents of the invisible book within his mind's eye, even he couldn't suppress the thrill that stirred in his chest.
The Invisible Book of Invisibility was no ordinary spellbook. Its pages were filled with so of the most advanced concealnt magic known to wizards.
It recorded spells such as:
Invisibility Charm – to render objects or beings transparent.
Disillusionnt Charm – blending seamlessly into one's surroundings, like a chaleon.
Concealnt Charm – not just hiding one's body, but even their magical aura and presence.
Confundus Charm – interfering with an observer's thoughts and perceptions.
Muggle-Repelling and Shielding Charms – creating zones imperceptible to non-magical folk.
It was, in every sense, an encyclopedia of stealth, visual, spiritual, magical, and ntal.
Sylas closed the book ntally, satisfied. Now wasn't the ti to study it. There would be plenty of long nights ahead.
"Sylas, conjure the tents again, won't you? I'm not sleeping in the dirt after tasting your magic beds!" Bombur's yawning voice interrupted his thoughts, arms already stretched and eyes half-lidded.
The other Dwarves, and even Bilbo, looked at him with anticipation.
Sylas chuckled. It was true. Ever since he'd transfigured luxurious tents and warm beds, the group had grown accustod to traveling in comfort. No one wished to go back to the old ways of rock pillows and damp cloaks.
He was about to wave his wand when his gaze drifted across the broken stone walls of Amon Sûl once more.
Could it be done...?
A ridiculous thought surfaced. What if he tried to repair the tower?
"Everyone," Sylas called, turning back toward the group, "I need you to step back. Away from the tower."
His voice was calm but firm.
The companions blinked, confused, but followed his instructions without argunt, retreating to a safe distance.
Sylas walked slowly to the center of the broken foundation, facing the shattered stone ring that had once been a great citadel. Raising his wand, he channeled his magic with deliberate precision.
"Reparo."
A surge of power erupted from the tip of his wand like a wave.
At first, nothing happened. Then, with a grinding sound like mountains shifting, the stones began to move.
Under the astonished gazes of his companions, the broken masonry began to knit itself back together. Fragnted stones hovered in the air, finding their places like puzzle pieces guided by invisible hands. Cracks sealed. Shattered corners smoothed. Ancient blocks reassembled in midair, falling gently into place.
But Sylas quickly realized he had underestimated the scope of the spell.
This wasn't just a broken chair or shattered window. It was a towering fortress, once over a thousand feet high. The sheer magical weight of reconstructing sothing so vast began to drain him rapidly.
He was like an ant trying to lift a mountain.
Even with all his strength, Sylas had barely restored half the tower before his magic reserves felt drained dry. The colossal structure, once a thousand feet tall, lood incomplete, and his wand arm trembled from sheer exhaustion.
His vision blurred. His legs weakened.
'It's too much,' he thought. 'I can't...'
But just as he was about to collapse and give up halfway, a sudden surge of power flooded into his body. In the blink of an eye, the fog clouding his mind lifted, his weariness vanished, and his spirit returned to its peak.
"Don't stop now, keep casting!" ca Gandalf's firm voice from behind him.
Startled, Sylas turned slightly.
Gandalf stood at his back, one hand pressed to his shoulder. Upon the wizard's finger glead a ruby ring, its gemstone pulsing with warm red light. Only Sylas could see it clearly, a ring of hidden might, quietly channeling strength into him.
Sylas's heart steadied. His grip on the wand tightened.
With newfound clarity and determination in his eyes, he focused once more on the spell. Magic surged through his wand in a brilliant arc, weaving through stone and air alike, commanding the remnants of the ancient structure to rise.
The tower's restoration accelerated.
Stone after stone reassembled in perfect harmony. Walls climbed. Arches curved into form. Spires took shape, reaching toward the heavens.
And then, under the stunned gazes of all present, a monuntal tower once more crowned Weathertop, rising a full thousand feet into the sky. Its shadow stretched across the hills like that of a sleeping giant reawakened.
It stood proud, vast, and gleaming under the moonlight.
"Ha! Amon Sûl is reborn!" Gandalf cried joyfully, his eyes glimring with wonder. "A miracle of magic, truly! Sylas, you've accomplished what few even dared to dream!"
Sylas, still panting lightly, shook his head. "If you hadn't stepped in, I wouldn't have finished it."
But Gandalf only smiled. "I rely gave you the strength to stand. The miracle was yours alone."
Then, after a brief pause, he added playfully, "Well? This tower stands by your magic. Have you thought of a new na for it?"
Sylas hesitated. He hadn't planned on this. But the mont Gandalf posed the question, a na leapt to mind.
"Hogwarts," he said softly.
Gandalf blinked. "Hogwarts? Does it hold so special aning?"
Sylas offered a small, mysterious smile. "Not really. It just... feels right."
Thus, the legendary na Hogwarts was born anew in Middle-earth.
Sylas stood quietly at the tower's base, staring up at the mighty structure. Pride and awe welled in his chest. What had begun as a whim, a test of the Repairing Charm's limits, had beco sothing greater. Perhaps even a future stronghold.
Weathertop, Amon Sûl, was perfectly placed. To the east lay the vast Eriador plains. Southward stretched the Midgewater Marshes. To the west were Bree and the Shire, giving it an excellent geographical location.
Although his sign-in tasks ant he inevitably had to travel around, having a base of his own would always provide so peace of mind.
Sylas ca to the tower entrance, bowed to everyone, and welcod them with a smile. "Welco, everyone, to Hogwarts. Please co in!"
Gandalf was very supportive, nodding to Sylas with a chuckle. "Gandalf, at your service."
Thorin, on the other hand, was serious. "Thorin Oakenshield, at your service."
The other Dwarves also paid their respects in turn.
Bilbo, a step behind, saw everyone's formal greetings and beca a little flustered. He quickly followed with a bow, "Bilbo Baggins, at your service!"
Caught off guard by the sudden formality, Sylas quickly responded, "Alright, everyone, co in. Let's explore this thousand-year-old tower together."
Everyone followed Sylas into the tall tower.
The tower was built entirely from hard granite, sturdy and thick. The interior floor height was a full five ters, featuring halls, lounges, storerooms, armories, and other architectural spaces. Layers of stone stairs spiraled around the inner walls, leading all the way to the summit.
Although Sylas had repaired the tower, all its interior furnishings had long since turned to dust under the erosion of ti, so the inside appeared bare.
However, this didn't bother him. Using Transfiguration, he conjured everything, tables, chairs, sofas, beds, furnishing the tower as needed.
With Sylas's permission, everyone enthusiastically began exploring the different floors of the tower and picked out rooms to sleep in for the night.
In the living room, only Sylas, Gandalf, and the ever-serious Thorin remained.
Gandalf sat on a sofa, leisurely and comfortably smoking his pipe.
Thorin, anwhile, held the map of the Lonely Mountain left by his father, silently studying its secrets.
Sylas went to the fireplace, lit it with a Fire-Making Charm, and then began waving his wand, casting a positioning spell to link it with the fireplace at The Prancing Pony in Bree.
...
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