I don't own Harry Potter or LOTR. This may be the beginning of a series. I am still writing on my other fics.
High on the battlements of Minas Tirith, in the courtyard of the white tree of Gondor, two wizards materialized. The older one strode forward with purpose, sparing a glance neither right nor left. The younger one, on the other hand, looked about him in awe, peering through his curtain of long dark hair at the shining city. He followed the leader of his order, but his pace slowed as he gazed upon the white tree, it's single blossom stubbornly clinging to the branch.
". . . My lord . . ." the youth hazarded cautiously, "where are we?"
"Minas Tirith. We have come to a separate dimension I found in my research. The inhabitants of this city are unaware of our presence, and will remain so, as I have charmed us invisible."
"Forgive me, but why are we here?" the dark haired wizard queried, quickening his pace to match the other as they arrived at the edge of the jutting balcony to look down at the white city and the valley. It was breathtaking. The elder wizard seemed unaware of this, as he frowned at the younger's impertinence, but answered anyway.
"It's a bigass drop - "
". . .My Lord?"
" - and you are going to jump."
The younger wizard paled.
"Since the dawn of time, muggle and wizard alike have wished for the gift of flight. Until I achieved it, all attempts to sail the air unaided had ended in failure and death. Be honored, for I am going to teach you this skill. You alone have merited this privilege. To fly like the birds of the heavens is freedom, and power." The wizard turned to face his pupil.
"There is no incantation. You must give yourself to the wind -" A scream interrupted the wizard's impassioned speech as a man encased in flames shoved past them and leapt from the balcony, gave himself to the wind, . . .and then fell flat to the earth. Tardy shouts of "Save the Steward!" and, "Uh, no, he just tried to kill Captain Faramir!" could be heard. The wizards leaned over the precipice and watched as the Steward of Gondor was impaled on a monster's spear far below.
The boy and his teacher straightened and looked at each other.
". . . Not like that." Lord Voldemort smirked. "The fire is unnecessary, but it does add drama."