Luke's expression darkened as he watched the slain goblin bodies become hosts for malevolent spirits.
"Think hiding in those shells will keep you safe from me?" he sneered, a cold edge to his voice. "Let's see how you hide without them." As he spoke, he raised his wand, summoning Fiendfyre to purge the spirits possessing the goblins.
Eerie blue flames erupted like fiery tendrils, consuming both the spirits and their hosts. Any goblin touched by the cursed fire was instantly incinerated.
Stripped of their hosts, the spirits were now fully exposed.
Spirits were, in essence, corrupted souls. While Fiendfyre couldn't destroy souls outright, it could burn away the evil energy that shrouded them. Under the scorching flames, the spirits writhed in agony, their dark aura dissipating like smoke, growing weaker with every moment.
But Fiendfyre wasn't invincible. Though it could burn almost anything, even the hardest metals, it couldn't consume earth or stone. The spirits, lacking physical form, slipped through the solid ground, escaping the flames by burrowing deep beneath the surface.
The spirits might have survived, but the goblins weren't so lucky.
Terrified by the relentless fire, the goblins fled in a panic. Some, thinking quickly, dived back into their tunnels and caves.
Yet, like a serpent drawn to its prey, the Fiendfyre slithered into the tunnels, pursuing the goblins deep into their lairs.
The goblins of the North Downs weren't a numerous race. After the Witch-king of Angmar's armies were scattered by the combined forces of Elves and Men, only scattered bands of Orcs and goblins remained. They used the ruins of the lost kingdom of Arnor as their dens, preying on travelers.
Now, however, they had encountered a calamity, one that spelled their doom.
With nowhere to run from the cursed flames, the goblins turned to ash one by one, even those who'd burrowed into the deepest caves. When the last goblin was consumed, Luke didn't extinguish the fire. Instead, he willed the flames to take the shape of a Balrog, directing it toward a ruined watchtower on the hillside.
The fiery demon radiated scorching heat, even forming a whip of flames in its hand, which it lashed against the tower.
The stone bricks shattered on impact. Though the flames couldn't burn the rocks, the intense heat made them crack and explode.
"Hmph! Did you think hiding would keep me from noticing you?" Luke scoffed, then hurled a bombarda at the tower.
With a deafening explosion, rubble flew in all directions, and dust filled the air.
The creature hiding inside was finally forced into the open.
A massive wolf, wreathed in dark mist, leaped high into the air, dodging the Fiendfyre's attack with the speed of a gale. In a few bounds, it landed near a deep pool a thousand meters away.
The wolf was as large as an ox, its eyes burning with a sinister crimson glow, and its body radiated a thick aura of dark magic.
"A Warg?" Luke muttered in surprise, but quickly dismissed the thought.
Wargs weren't this big, nor this powerful.
Wargs were essentially corrupted giant wolves, intelligent and large, but otherwise not much different from ordinary wolves. This beast, however, was saturated with dark magic. Its black mist writhed like living tendrils, as if eager to devour all life. Its drool sizzled like acid upon hitting the ground.
To Luke's magical senses, this wolf was no mere beast, it was a full-fledged monster, dozens of times more dangerous than any Warg.
What happened next shocked him even more.
The black wolf stared at Luke and suddenly spoke, "Luke the Black-robed Wizard, I've heard of your deeds and know your methods. I have no wish to be your enemy."
Luke narrowed his eyes. "You know me?"
"The famed Black Wizard, Master of Dragons, Slayer of Balrogs, Bane of Orcs, even in the dark realms, your name is legendary," the wolf replied.
"Then what are you? You're not like any Warg I've seen."
"Wargs? Pah! Mere beasts ridden by Orcs!" The wolf sneered with disdain, then raised its head proudly.
"I am Sköll, the Werewolf, descendant of the great progenitors Draugluin and Carcharoth, once mighty guardians of the Dark Lord Morgoth!"
A Werewolf? Luke recalled a passage he'd once read in Rivendell's archives.
These were dark creatures created by Morgoth. Unlike Wargs, Werewolves had evil spirits bound within them. Draugluin, the first of their kind, had even been fed Morgoth's blood, making him a far more fearsome beast.
And Draugluin was tied to the fate of Arwen's ancestors, the Elf-princess Lúthien and the human hero Beren.
Arwen had once told Luke their tale:
Beren, a mortal man, fell in love with Lúthien, daughter of King Thingol of Doriath. Thingol, unwilling to let his daughter marry a human, set an impossible bride-price, a Silmaril from Morgoth's crown.
Beren ventured alone to Morgoth's fortress, Angband, but was captured and placed under the guard of Draugluin.
Learning of this, Lúthien disguised herself as a phantom and, with the hound Huan, infiltrated Angband to rescue Beren.
On their escape, Draugluin intercepted them and fought Huan. Though the Werewolf was slain, the battle was fierce.
Lúthien revived Beren with magic, and the two fled with a Silmaril Beren had hidden earlier. But on their way out, they encountered Carcharoth, a far more terrible Werewolf, bred by Morgoth to devour Elves and Men, guarding Angband's gates.
Beren was slain by Carcharoth, and Lúthien, in her grief, traded her immortality to Mandos for Beren's brief return to life.
Carcharoth, however, had swallowed the Silmaril. The holy jewel burned him from within, driving him into a maddened frenzy. He rampaged across the land until Beren, Lúthien, and Huan finally brought him down, though Huan perished from his wounds in the battle.
Huan was no ordinary hound, he was the hunting companion of Oromë, one of the Valar, a true divine beast. He had even faced Sauron in wolf-form and forced him to retreat.
That Carcharoth could kill Beren, then fight Huan to mutual destruction, spoke volumes of the Werewolves' might.
And this Werewolf before him was a descendant of Draugluin and Carcharoth, no wonder it was so arrogant.
Though, as Luke knew, Wargs were actually the offspring of Werewolves and ordinary wolves. They were distant kin.
Yet this Werewolf spoke of Wargs with utter disdain, and of Orcs with open disgust.
Seeing Luke silent, the Werewolf continued:
"Wizard Luke, our kind grows scarce. I have no desire to meddle in the world's conflicts. I dwell here in the North Downs, accepting tribute from the goblins.
What happened earlier was a misunderstanding. If you're willing to cease hostilities, I swear never to encroach upon your lands. I could even ally with you, act as your hidden blade, clearing obstacles from your path. Especially those Dúnedain in the North. With my help, you could rule all the northern lands. What say you?"
Luke smirked, studying the silver-tongued beast.
"Oh? You think you have the power to make me king of the North?"
The Werewolf, sensing what seemed like interest, pressed eagerly:
"Not just me. I can gather others of my kin. We Werewolves follow only the strong. You, who tamed dragons and slew Balrogs, are the mightiest of all. We would gladly serve you.
Our hides can turn Elven blades, our claws pierce Dwarven mail, our fangs poison Orcs. We can even summon the dead to fight for us. We would be your finest army, sweeping across all lands in your name!"
"So the spirits in Fornost, they were under your control?" Luke asked.
The Werewolf nodded and let out a howl.
The spirits hiding underground emerged against their will, gathering around the Werewolf in submission.
"Wizard Luke, what do you say? Will you join us? These wraiths are but a fraction. Together, we could raise an endless host of the dead. None in Eriador could stand against us!"
The Werewolf's voice dripped with temptation.
Luke glanced at the mournful spirits, then at the Werewolf, and suddenly chuckled, shaking his head.
"I don't think so."
"…What do you mean?" The Werewolf, certain it had swayed Luke, was stunned.
"Because I don't believe a single word you've said."
Luke's smile turned icy.
"Wolves are cunning, today, I've seen it firsthand. Did you learn these pretty lies from your master, Sauron? Pity he didn't tell you I've dealt with him before. That stench of his all over you? Impossible to hide."
"Avada Kedavra!"
Before the Werewolf could react, a blinding green curse shot toward it.
The beast dodged with preternatural speed.
But before it could recover, the Fiendfyre—unnoticed until now—had already spread around it. The flames surged, forming a perfect ring of fire, cutting off all escape.
Luke had never intended to let the Werewolf live. Hearing it out was just to ensure it couldn't flee.
Now, with the trap sprung, it was time to finish the hunt.
Cornered by the encroaching flames, the Werewolf darted about with wind-like speed, searching desperately for an exit.
But the towering walls of fire left no opening.
Just as all seemed lost, the Werewolf suddenly halted, and inhaled deeply.
The spirits around it were sucked violently into its maw.
With each spirit devoured, the Werewolf's power swelled. The dark mist around it thickened into a solid barrier, holding the Fiendfyre at bay.
Though the flames eroded the shield, it bought the beast precious time.
Seizing the moment, the Werewolf transformed into a shadowy streak and burst through the fiery prison.
The Werewolf's sudden outburst caught Luke by surprise, but it didn't stop his pursuit.
"Sulond, after it!"
The giant eagle let out a piercing cry, its wings slicing through the air as it streaked toward the fleeing Werewolf. No matter how fast the beast was, it couldn't outpace an eagle in flight.
Sulond quickly closed the distance, its razor-sharp talons reaching for the Werewolf. As if it had eyes in the back of its head, the beast twisted sideways at the last moment, narrowly avoiding the eagle's grasp.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Luke, mounted on the eagle, hadn't been idle. His attack was already in midair, timed perfectly with the Werewolf's dodge. The Killing Curse, glowing emerald, struck the Werewolf head-on.
A shriek of pain erupted as several spirits were forcibly ripped from the Werewolf's body, dissipating instantly. Yet, the Werewolf only faltered for a split second before resuming its frantic sprint, seemingly unharmed.
"That didn't kill it?" Luke's eyes widened in disbelief. He had been confident in the curse's lethality. But now he realized: the Werewolf had devoured hundreds of spirits, meaning its body housed countless souls. The Killing Curse worked by severing the soul from the body, but here, it had only expelled a few lesser spirits, leaving the primary demonic spirit intact.
Since the Killing Curse was ineffective, Luke wouldn't waste more magic on it.
Meanwhile, seeing Luke and the eagle closing in again, the Werewolf suddenly howled into the distance. Moments later, a dozen answering howls echoed from the forests of the North Downs.
"More Werewolves?" Luke frowned, glancing toward the source of the cries.
Soon, over a dozen massive, ox-sized Werewolves converged, clearly under Sköll's command. Not giving them time to regroup, Luke swung Glamdring, sending a scorching arc of fire toward the nearest Werewolf.
The blade cleaved through the beast, splitting it in two at the waist. Flames engulfed its body as it let out a bloodcurdling scream, joined by an even more piercing shriek from the evil spirit within. The spirit, now without a host, burst forth as a plume of black smoke.
Meanwhile, the Werewolf's corpse, bereft of its possessing spirit, rapidly decayed as if time itself accelerated, crumbling into ash amid the flames. The disembodied spirit, unable to survive alone, began dissipating, until Sköll lunged forward and swallowed it whole.
Instantly, its aura intensified, its body swelling in size.
Luke's expression darkened. By killing one Werewolf, he'd inadvertently strengthened Sköll. Now the beast housed two major spirits, making it even more formidable.
For a moment, Luke hesitated, slaying more Werewolves would only feed Sköll further. But leaving them alive meant being swarmed. He felt trapped in a lose-lose situation.
Then he noticed something: Sköll, though more powerful, was moving sluggishly, its coordination off. There was a flaw in its plan. A Werewolf's body was meant to host only one spirit, ensuring perfect synchronization. Sköll had previously devoured hundreds of lesser wraiths, but those were insignificant compared to its primary spirit, easily suppressed.
But now, with a second major spirit inside, the two were locked in a subconscious struggle for dominance. Though the weaker one was temporarily subdued, the conflict was causing Sköll's erratic movements.
A plan formed in Luke's mind. A cold smirk curled his lips. "You want more spirits? Let me help you with that."
No longer holding back, he wielded both wand and glamdring. With one hand, he conjured obstacles to hinder the Werewolves; with the other, he unleashed waves of fire and slicing wind blades.
Sulond, too, dove into the fray, snatching up Werewolves with steel talons, crushing their skulls with its beak.
One by one, the Werewolves fell, their spirits erupting as black smoke, wailing like banshees. And just as Luke predicted, Sköll, whether from the chaos of its dual spirits or sheer greed, began devouring the freed spirits.
With each one consumed, its power surged, its dark aura thickening like ink, radiating a suffocating, dread-inducing presence. The very sky darkened in response, clouds churning ominously.
But Sköll's once-cunning eyes now flickered with madness, its expression torn between rage and agony. Over a dozen major spirits and hundreds of wraiths now warred inside it, each vying for control. What had once been a manageable struggle had become a full-scale rebellion.
"Silence!" Sköll roared, its voice a guttural snarl. "Defy me, and we all perish!" The threat momentarily quelled the internal uprising.
But Luke had no intention of letting them unite. His wand flashed. "Imperio!"
The curse struck true. Instantly, the spirits within Sköll erupted into frenzy, their fragile truce shattered. Every limb, every muscle, even its eyes twitched under conflicting commands, one spirit forcing a step forward, another yanking it back. Sköll stood frozen, a puppet with a hundred tangled strings.
"Now!"
Luke leaped from Sulond's back, driving glamdring deep into Sköll's skull. He channeled his magic, unleashing everything the blade held—Basilisk venom, Fiendfyre, the Light of Eärendil, even the power of Vilya.
Sköll's life force snuffed out instantly, the fire in its eyes dying. A chorus of unearthly shrieks erupted from its corpse as the trapped spirits wailed in fury, their cries piercing the soul. Luke yanked the sword free, flipping backward to put distance between himself and the body.
Just in time, black smoke erupted from Sköll's remains, the spirits swirling desperately, seeking new hosts. But Luke was ready. His Patronus surged forth, forming an immense barrier that trapped every last wraith.
From his pouch, he drew a crystal vial, unleashing the Light of Eärendil. The holy radiance washed over the spirits, dissolving them like snow under sunlight.
As the final wraith dissipated with a dying screech, Luke pocketed the vial with a wince. The Light wasn't infinite, every use diminished its reserves. He'd only resorted to it to avoid further complications.
Turning back, he saw Sköll's corpse reduced to smoldering ash. Yet despite his victory, Luke felt little triumph.
This battle had been unlike any before, spirits and possessed Werewolves were immune to conventional spells and physical attacks, forcing him to improvise. It made him wary of his next goal: the Paths of the Dead, where he sought the Sulfur of Souls.
Unlike Aragorn, he carried no Isildur's blood to command the wraiths. And ghosts feared neither the Killing Curse nor ordinary weapons, they were already dead, beyond such harm. Nor could they be fought like Wraiths or Werewolves.
Shaking his head, Luke pushed the thought aside. He'd cross that bridge when he came to it.
Mounting Sulond once more, he returned to the goblin caves. After all this effort, his only reward had been the "Dark Mark" spell from the system. The encounters with wraiths, goblins, and Werewolves had made this first leg of his journey far more troublesome than expected.
The caves, now empty and silent, twisted like a labyrinth. After some searching, Luke found the goblin treasury, only to curse under his breath. Piles of rusted armor, a few chests of copper and silver coins, a handful of gold and jewels.
"Pathetic. A waste of time."
Grumbling, he stashed the meager loot into his expanded pouch and left. The Werewolf den was even worse, just bones and debris.
With a disappointed sigh, Luke left the North Downs, soaring westward. His next destination: Annúminas.
Once the capital of Arnor, the city had declined after the kingdom fractured into Cardolan, Rhudaur, and Arthedain, eventually falling to ruin. Only when Aragorn reunited the kingdoms would it be restored.
The flight took half a day. Soon, Luke spotted a vast lake nestled in a valley, Lake Evendim, or Nenuial, the source of the Brandywine River marking the Shire's border. And beside it, the crumbling majesty of Annúminas.
Lake Evendim, a vast body of water, is encircled by rolling hills on three sides, with only an open plain to the east. The lake's waters flow eastward, then turn south before eventually emptying into the sea. High above this landscape, Luke soared on the back of a majestic giant eagle, surveying the scene below.
From this vantage point, the ruins of a sprawling city, built into the hillside southeast of the lake, came into view. The city, Annúminas, was once the magnificent capital of the lost kingdom of Arnor. Constructed entirely of white marble, it bore the scars of time and conflict, yet Luke could still make out the remnants of its former glory: marketplaces, residential areas, pools, and gardens, as well as the shattered walls and standing structures of ancient palaces.
At the heart of Annúminas stood the Chamber of Annúinandil, a magnificent round tower that reached nearly to the mountaintop. This ancient seat of power, where even the great king Elendil once held court, had endured for thousands of years. It was also the location of the Annúminas Crystal, one of the three Palantíri, or "seeing stones," of the Northern Kingdom, which was once housed here alongside the Scepter of Annúminas. The Scepter, originally belonging to Prince Andúnië of Númenor, had become the symbol of Arnor's kingship.
When the kingdom of Arnor was divided, the Annúminas Stone and the Scepter were moved to Fornost, the capital of Arthedain. After the Witch-king of Angmar's final assault destroyed Arthedain, the last king attempted to escape with the Scepter and the Palantír by ship, but the vessel sank. Only the Scepter was later rescued and entrusted to Elrond for safekeeping in Rivendell, where Dewi had seen it next to the broken sword Narsil.
East of the city lay the Kings' Road, the burial ground of Arnor's kings, including the tomb of Elendil himself. With its grand gates and towering walls, the city, despite being abandoned for years, exuded an enduring beauty and a profound sense of history. Because Annúminas was abandoned by its inhabitants rather than conquered, its main structures remained largely intact, unlike other cities like Fornost that were destroyed by the Witch-king's armies. If restored, this city could once again reclaim its past splendor.
After admiring the view, Luke patted the eagle's back. "Sulond, let's go down." He intended to land and explore the city.
However, as the giant eagle began its descent, several figures emerged from a corner of the city below. They raised their bows and watched Luke and the eagle with an alert, vigilant gaze. Luke, noting their tall stature, handsome features, and dark hair, suspected they were Dúnedain. "Friends of the Dúnedain? I mean no harm," Luke called out. His voice, though calm, was astonishingly clear, reaching them as if he were right beside them.
The Dúnedain's eyes widened in surprise. Realizing the visitor was no ordinary man, they lowered their bows but remained cautious. The eagle, with its immense body and powerful wings, landed in a wide, plaza-like area.
Luke dismounted and approached them with a friendly smile. "Please, don't be alarmed. I was just passing by and was so struck by this magnificent city that I had to come down to admire it. I apologize if I disturbed you."
"Who are you?" asked an older Dúnedain, who appeared to be in his forties or fifties.
"My name is Luke, and I live at the top of the world," Luke replied with a smile.
Several of the Dúnedain exchanged surprised glances. "Are you Luke the Black Wizard? The Dragon Lord?"
"That would be me," Luke confirmed, nodding.
At this, the Dúnedain relaxed, putting away their bows. "I am Talmir," the elder said, introducing himself and his companions: "Karen, Kelham, Anfalas, and Fendal. We are all members of the tribe that protects this place."
Talmir then cautiously asked, "Where is Wizard Luke heading? Why are you passing through here?"
Luke, undeterred by the probing question, expressed his surprise. "I had heard Annúminas was long abandoned, but I didn't expect anyone to still be guarding it. As for me, I'm on my way to the Mithlond to visit the lord there. I'm simply taking a detour to see some historical sites. I just visited Fornost and the Northern Hill. It's a shame it's now a complete ruin, so I came here to admire what remains of this ancient city."
Talmir's expression shifted to one of shock. "You've been to Fornost? You didn't awaken the evil spirits sleeping there, did you?"
Luke shook his head. "My luck wasn't great. Not only did I encounter evil spirits, but also goblins and wolf monsters. It was quite a hassle." The Dúnedain were instantly taken aback. They knew of Fornost's evil spirits and had avoided the place for years, even spreading rumors of it being haunted to scare away travelers. They were also aware of the goblins, scattered remnants of the orcs left behind after the Witch-king's defeat. But the presence of demon wolves was a new and terrifying revelation. Having long fought against the creatures of darkness, the Dúnedain knew the cunning and ferocity of demon wolves far surpassed that of orcs and wargs.
Seeing their solemn faces, Luke reassured them. "Don't worry. I've already dealt with the evil spirits, goblins, and demon wolves in the Northern Hill. It's safe now."
"You... you dealt with all of them?!" they exclaimed in disbelief.
Luke explained calmly, "The Northern Hill isn't far from the Weathertop. With only a plain in between, if they were to move south, they would have no obstacles before reaching Amon Sul. To avoid potential danger, I had to clear them out." The Dúnedain looked at each other, stunned.
The Dúnedain, scattered across Eriador, had heard of Luke, who had restored Amon Sûl and established his territory on Weathertop. Though they considered this land their ancestral home and had guarded it for generations, they had acquiesced to Luke's rule due to his formidable power. Now, learning that he had single-handedly eliminated all the evil creatures in the Northern Hill, they finally grasped the extent of his might.
While talking, Luke was also secretly waiting for a response from his "system." When none came, he asked the Dúnedain, "I'm very curious about Annúminas. Would you allow me to explore it?"
Several Dúnedain looked at Talmir, who nodded. "That's fine. I will lead the way for you, Wizard Luke."
"That would be very kind of you!" Luke said gratefully.
Guided by Talmir, Luke toured the ancient city, passing through the marketplace, residential areas, pools, and gardens as Talmir recounted their history. When the system still didn't respond, Luke relaxed and fully immersed himself in the tour, which eventually led them to the Road of the Kings.
The Kings' Road was a path of solemnity and mystery, lined on both sides with the tombs of Arnor's kings. Constructed of massive white stones and adorned with intricate reliefs and runes, the tombs recorded the lives and achievements of the monarchs, with the oldest graves located further within. Luke noticed that unlike the other dilapidated buildings, the Road of the Kings was meticulously maintained.
At the very end of the road stood the largest tomb, opposite a tall statue of the king himself, holding the holy sword Narsil. "This is the resting place of Elendil, the High King who founded the Kingdom of Arnor and the greatest monarch of the Dúnedain," Talmir said, bowing respectfully before introducing it to Luke.
Luke also bowed in admiration. He respected Elendil, a warrior who had faced Sauron at his peak, and whose sacrifice had temporarily freed Middle-earth from a great threat. As a tribute to the monarch, Luke made orchids bloom at the statue's feet. Talmir, witnessing this, felt an immediate kinship with Luke.
Still, the system remained silent. Luke paid his respects and continued the tour. They finally reached the Chamber of Annúinandil, the palace at the highest point of the city where Elendil's throne once stood.
At last, the system responded.
[Hogwarts Sign-in System: Locating the Chamber of Annúminas - Annúinandil. Do you want to sign in?]
"Sign in," Luke said calmly to himself.
Sign-in Successful! You have obtained the Ravenclaw Diadem alchemy!
Luke was momentarily stunned by the system's message, then a wave of pleasant surprise washed over him. He hadn't expected to acquire this particular treasure. The Ravenclaw Diadem, a relic of Rowena Ravenclaw, one of Hogwarts' founders, was famed for its magical ability to enhance the wearer's wisdom. Generations of Ravenclaw students and professors had sought it, hoping to gain greater insight.
This legendary artifact was also at the heart of a tragic tale spanning centuries: Helena Ravenclaw, Rowena's daughter, grew jealous of her mother's wisdom, believing the Diadem was the source of it. She stole the Diadem and fled to Albania. When Rowena fell gravely ill, she yearned to see her daughter, sending the Bloody Baron, who loved Helena, to find her.
The Baron tracked Helena to the Albanian forests, but she refused to return, hiding the Diadem in a hollow tree. In a fit of love-fueled rage, the Baron stabbed Helena to death, then took his own life. Rowena died shortly after receiving the devastating news, and the Diadem's whereabouts remained a mystery. After their deaths, Helena became the Grey Lady, the ghost of Ravenclaw House, and the Bloody Baron became the ghost of Slytherin.
Centuries later, a young Tom Riddle, still a student, learned the Diadem's location from Helena's ghost. He found the relic and transformed it into his fifth Horcrux, concealing it in the Room of Requirement at Hogwarts. The Diadem was ultimately destroyed during the Battle of Hogwarts by Fiendfyre, unleashed by Crabbe. Throughout its tumultuous journey, the crown, purported to increase wisdom, never overtly displayed its power, leaving its authenticity in doubt.
However, now that Luke possessed the alchemical instructions for creating the Ravenclaw Diadem, he knew the rumors were true. Rowena Ravenclaw was renowned for her wisdom, but her skill as an alchemist was less known. The Diadem was one of her alchemical masterpieces, designed to enhance wisdom.
Of course, its power wasn't as exaggerated as legend claimed; it didn't grant infinite wisdom to just anyone. Instead, it stimulated cognitive potential, making the wearer's brain work faster, allowing them to absorb information more keenly, understand knowledge more quickly, and think and analyze problems more efficiently.
Thus, a person with an empty mind would gain no wisdom from wearing the Diadem. This is why Ravenclaw inscribed the words "Wit beyond measure is man's greatest treasure" on the crown, a warning that true wisdom isn't given but accumulated through one's own efforts. Most, including her own daughter, failed to grasp this profound message, leading to the tragedies that followed.
Despite knowing the Diadem wouldn't magically grant wisdom, Luke wasn't disappointed. In fact, he desired such a crown even more. It was the ultimate learning aid! With the Ravenclaw Diadem's blessing, his efficiency in studying magical knowledge and arcane secrets would greatly improve. As knowledge accumulated, wisdom would naturally grow, and his power would follow. This, Luke believed, was the Diadem's true value.
In the wizarding world, an intelligence-enhancing potion, also known as a Brain-Elixir, offers a similar function. It sharpens thinking and quickens reactions. Students often took it before exams hoping for higher scores, but the school strictly prohibited its use, especially during O.W.L.s and N.E.W.T.s, with cancellation of results as punishment for discovery.
Moreover, the potion's effects were temporary, and excessive use led to side effects like dizziness, confusion, anxiety, and an inability to concentrate. Consequently, it was rarely used. The Ravenclaw Diadem, however, was in a league of its own—an enhanced, permanent version of the intelligence-enhancing potion, entirely without side effects. This reward alone made the sign-in worth the journey.
Having completed his task, Luke had no further reason to linger in Annúminas. As he bid farewell to the Dúnedain and prepared to summon the giant eagle Sulond , he noticed his companion circling above Lake Evendim, playing with a flock of large white birds.
As a giant eagle, Sulond was naturally the sky's sovereign, communicating with other birds and asserting his dominant, kingly position. Many birds encircled Sulond , like a hundred birds revering a phoenix, continuously catching large fish from the lake and offering them to him as tribute. Luke watched this scene with surprise.
Upon closer inspection, he realized these large white birds were Great Snowy Owls. Their size far surpassed ordinary owls, with wingspans of four or five meters. Their pure white feathers were immaculate, like untouched winter snow or wisps of cloud, light and flowing. "What kind of owls are those? I've never heard of them," Luke asked Talmir curiously.
Talmir looked up at the owls flying over the lake, unfazed. "They are Great Snowy Owls," he explained with a smile. "They once lived on Númenor. When our ancestors sailed to Middle-earth, some followed. However, their numbers were so small they remained unknown to most humans."
"Are they kept by you?" Luke inquired.
Talmir shook his head. "Great Snowy Owls are proud and independent. While they don't resist humans, they don't surrender easily. They crave freedom. Even if you earn their approval, they will only visit your home temporarily, like a house owner visiting another, then depart quickly. These Great Snowy Owls live in the pine forests at the northernmost end of the Dusk Hills and often come to Lake Evendim to fish."
Hearing that these owls were unowned, Luke saw an opportunity. What wizard could be without an owl as a pet? These particular owls were stunning, pure white with toes like white jade, making them resemble "elves." Luke had previously considered acquiring owls as messengers after seeing dwarves use ravens, but the timing hadn't been right. Sulond , being too large, wasn't suitable for messenger duties.
Without hesitation, Luke cast Animagus. To Talmir's astonishment, he transformed into an owl and flew towards Sulond and the Great Snowy Owls. In his owl form, Luke could understand their chirps and calls. As he drew closer, he heard the Great Snowy Owls calling Sulond "King," offering him fish as tribute, their flattery shocking Luke. Is this still the proud Great Snowy Owl Talmir spoke of? These look more like a flock of sycophants!
"Sulond , are these your new friends?" Luke asked, flying in front of the giant eagle with a smile.
"Master, these are my new little brothers!" Sulond , recognizing Luke's Animagus form, proudly showed them off like a child presenting a new toy to their parents. The other Great Snowy Owls gasped in shock, their large round eyes widening further as they watched the majestic giant eagle address an owl, smaller than themselves, as "master."
"You, you, you... are you the great king's master?" one Great Snowy Owl stammered, so startled that the fish in its mouth fell out. Seeing their bewildered expressions, Luke was amused and deliberately teased, "Yeah, what's wrong? Don't you think so?"
The Great Snowy Owls felt as though they'd been struck by lightning. Oh my god! This defies all sense! An owl has become the master of a giant eagle!
After entertaining the snowy owls, Luke flew onto Sulond's back and reverted to human form. The Great Snowy Owls collectively exhaled a sigh of relief. It was a person! Wait, was it a human? The Great Snowy Owls were thoroughly confused. Was he an owl or a human?
Luke, with a smile that resembled a mischievous uncle holding a lollipop, was ready to "kidnap" them. Since Sulond had already accepted these "little brothers," the rest would be easy. Luke used his persuasive charm, promising them comfortable owl rooms and endless food at Weathertop. Sulond chimed in, reinforcing Luke's offer. This naive group of Great Snowy Owls was easily swayed and agreed to work for Luke.
Soon, over three hundred Great Snowy Owls, along with their entire families, were led by the giant eagle to settle on Weathertop. When Luke said "bringing your family," he meant it literally. He saw one Great Snowy Owl clutching its nest, filled with chirping chicks and even unhatched eggs. They followed Sulond in a grand procession, a sight that left the Dúnedain speechless.
As night fell, Luke decided to stay in Annúminas. Sulond would lead the Great Snowy Owls back to Weathertop and then return to rejoin him. Taming the Great Snowy Owls was just the first step. To enable them to deliver messages with the precise navigation of owls in the magical world—accurately reaching any unwarded location—he would need to brew a special owl potion.
Once consumed, this potion would make them smarter, more human-like, and imbue them with perfect navigational abilities, ensuring they could find any recipient, even if they were moving. Since he was still traveling, he wasn't in a hurry to do this and decided to train his new messengers upon his return.
The next morning, Sulond returned to Annúminas with the rising sun, bringing a letter from Arwen. Luke's expression softened as he read the longing conveyed in her handwriting. Arwen absolutely adored these pure white owls. Following Luke's instructions, she had placed all the snowy owls in a tower and planned to build an exquisite owl house for these new arrivals. After reading the letter and storing it in his space bag, Luke said goodbye to the Dúnedain. He mounted the giant eagle once more and flew southwest, towards the Mithlond.