Hidden deep in a quiet pocket of forest, just beyond the sight of Hobbiton, I kneel in the cool grass and finish carving the final symbols into the earth. A circle of runic geometry so complex that even advanced spellbooks warn readers not to attempt it.
But I'm no ordinary wizard.
At each point of the circle, I carefully place a magical material:
Basilisk-scale powder mixed with moonstone dust
Phoenix ash infused with my own blood
Ground elderwood shavings
Silver-infused river stones carved with runes of sight
Everything must be perfect.
This is a ritual that touches the ancient enchantments forged by Fëanor himself. Even the tiniest error could rupture my mind — or attract something far worse.
I wait.
Three nights pass.
Then, finally…
The full moon rises, silver light spilling down through the treetops.
My red cloak ripples in the cold wind as I step into the center of the circle, wand gripped firmly in my hand.
I whisper the ancient words — Elvish and magic intertwined:
"Calina tirion… náren palantír…Menno i eneth lín, ar úva fírë."
The earth hums.
The rune stones blaze with ghostly flame.
And the moonlight collapses inward — a pillar of pure white illumination engulfing me.
My mind is yanked outward.
Across forests.Over mountains.Through crumbling ruins swallowed by time.
Until—there.
A flash.
A stone fortresshalf-buriedbeneath the wild lands.
One of the lost Palantíri.
I gasp and fall to my knees as the magic circle fades — steam curling from the symbols scorched into the ground.
It's far, far from the Shire.Farther even than Erebor.But still — along the path my journey will soon take.
I smile to myself.
"I'll retrieve it when the quest begins."
One more weapon against the armies of darkness.
One more advantage over Sauron.
One more step toward survival.
The days that follow become a blur of intense discipline.
With my mastery of spells nearly rivaling elite Aurors of my old universe, I refine something even more important:
my mind.
Through brutal hours of meditation, memory restructuring, and emotion control…
I finally break through.
My thoughts go silent.
My defenses lock into perfect formation.
My consciousness folds into an unbreakable fortress.
💠 Level 4 — Master Occlumens.
Snape reached this height.few others ever have.
No Legilimens can casually breach my mind now — not even the Dark Lord of Mordor himself.
The moment of breakthrough nearly brings tears to my eyes…
But I bury the emotion instantly.
Calm. Controlled. Sharp.
Everything must be sharp now.
The world is about to change.
And I am ready to change with it.