Are There Official Smeagol Harry Potter Mashups Or Only Fan Art?

I've been scribbling marginalia in my copy of 'The Lord of the Rings' for years, and the idea of a Smeagol-shaped Patronus made me smile and wince at once. Imagine the Patronus as a flicker of someone's truest, most defended memory—if Smeagol were your Patronus, it would scream of survival, shame, and a clinging, battered tenderness. That tiny, furtive figure would represent the part of you that has been cornered by obsession and hurt, yet still refuses to disappear. On the bright side, a Smeagol Patronus could also be a strange badge of resilience. It would remind you that even damaged things can protect you; the Patronus doesn't judge the origin of its form, it only reacts to the light within. So this Patronus would carry complicated signals—warning to stay vigilant against your darker compulsions, but also a whisper that the soft, human part can still save you if you feed it with kinder memories. I think about this when I reread scenes where Smeagol dims into Gollum, and I picture someone confronting their own shadows with a trembling, honest charm. It wouldn't be pretty, but it would be truthful—and sometimes truth is exactly the kind of shield you need.

Oh, what a hilarious mental image—Smeagol in a Hogwarts dueling ring! I can see him now, hissing and twitching while everyone waves wands. Realistically, if we're talking about formal, wand-to-wand duels the way students practice in the dueling club, Smeagol's survival chances depend almost entirely on context. He isn't a witch or wizard, so he can't cast spells reliably; that alone puts him at a huge disadvantage against anyone who knows basic charms like 'Stupefy' or 'Expelliarmus'. On the other hand, his strengths are the kind no textbook covers: slipperiness, feral cunning, and a knack for hiding. Those let him avoid getting hit rather than trade blows. If he turned up with the Ring from 'The Lord of the Rings', all bets shift—suddenly he's invisible, able to skulk around and ambush or flee. Against first-years or distracted duelists he could slip past and survive, maybe even snatch a wand if someone dropped one. But against trained duelists, Professors, or Aurors? No. A well-aimed Stunning Spell or a simple protective charm would incapacitate him. So I’d say: survivable in chaos and stealthy scenarios, laughably outclassed in a straight-up duel with magic users who know what they're doing. I'd personally love to sketch that scene—Smeagol under an invisibility cloak, hissing at a confused Hufflepuff, and vanishing into the portrait hole.

I'm weirdly delighted imagining this crossover, like when I'm half-awake and scribbling fan ideas in the margins of a notebook. Picture Smeagol — that split, desperate creature from 'The Lord of the Rings' — dropped into the wizarding world: he wouldn't sign up for ideology. He clings to possession, to the thing that whispers to him; the Death Eaters recruit by promise of power, purity, and belonging. Smeagol's allegiance would be transactional and terrified, not ideological. He'd be a tool, a spy, maybe even used for skulking into places wizards think secure, but his loyalty would always tilt toward whatever keeps him and his 'precious' safe. Harry's case is practically the opposite. He's shaped by choice, by refusing easy dark paths. In my head he’s stubbornly moral — the kind of person who turns down shortcuts even when exhausted. Could he be corrupted? Only under extreme, contrived circumstances: intense trauma combined with isolation and manipulation. Even then, he'd likely resist and seek allies. So as a Death Eater? Almost never in my view. More realistically, Harry would be a staunch ally, the kind who gets muddy and angry defending people, not ideologies. If you like grimwhat-ifs, the interesting story is how both could be used: Smeagol as a pawn, Harry as the rescuer or the one who tempts Smeagol toward a small, fragile redemption. That dynamic makes for far richer fanfic than a straight conversion to villainy.

There’s something secretly irresistible about pairing two characters who, on paper, could not be more different. When I think about why people ship Smeagol and Harry, my brain goes straight to thematic mirrors: both stories in 'The Lord of the Rings' and 'Harry Potter' deal with corrupting influence, obsession, and split identities. Gollum is the living embodiment of what a powerful object can do to a person; Harry carries pieces of a dark past in a very different form. That parallel lets writers explore what happens when trauma meets trauma — redemption, manipulation, trust, or a slow, dangerous codependency. On a more personal note, I love how Smeagol’s fractured voice creates instant dialogue-driven scenes. Fans can write long, intimate talks where Harry’s empathy collides with Smeagol’s paranoia: it’s ripe for both tender ‘care’ tropes and dark, twisted control dynamics. Most of the fics that clicked with me either age-up Harry or place them in a post-canon AU where both characters are adults, so the ethical bits get handled. There’s also the joy of novelty — crossovers let people mash up two mythic universes and see fresh chemistry. In short, it’s about contrasts, healing fantasies, and the pure storytelling fun of mixing voice-driven characters, and I keep finding new takes that surprise me every time.

There's something deliciously odd about picturing 'Smeagol' wearing Hogwarts robes, and yes — cosplayers can absolutely recreate a Smeagol-meets-'Harry Potter' look convincingly, if they lean into both the sculptural makeup and the tiny behavioral details. I’ve pulled off prosthetic-heavy characters before, so I’d start with good reference photos: study the pale, veiny skin and big eyes of 'Smeagol' and the broken charm of Harry’s scarf, glasses, and scar. Silicone or foam-latex prosthetics for the forehead and cheeks, a bald cap, thin pale body paint layered for veins, and the right contact lenses will sell the transformation. On costume, don’t do a pristine robe — distress fabric, add mud and patches, maybe a partially melted wand or a battered Gryffindor patch to sell the story. Movement matters: crouched posture, twitchy hand motions, a mix of childlike wonder and a whispery voice imitate that split personality. Lighting and photos will finish the illusion: cooler, directional light to exaggerate hollows, and post-processing for subtle smoothing or eye glow. It’s a mash-up that’s more theatrical than literal, so embrace the weirdness and tell a little backstory with props — I always enjoy when a photo series shows how the two worlds collided.

If I had to pick one actor to pull off a Smeagol-like version of Harry Potter on screen, I’d lean straight toward Andy Serkis. I’m not just leaning because he invented the modern motion-capture performance — though that’s a huge part of it — I’m thinking about the way he blends voice, tiny physical tic, and heartbreaking vulnerability into one moving creature. A corrupted or split-personality Harry who whispers to himself and lashes out in panic would be right in Serkis’s wheelhouse. I can almost see the scenes: close-ups where Serkis’s hands tremble, low-light sequences that rely on body language more than dialogue, and a director leaning on motion-capture to let the inner monster and the boy coexist. That approach preserves the tragedy of Smeagol while giving 'Harry Potter' a uniquely haunting, emotional center. Casting Serkis would also allow for creative collaboration on vocal textures and physical micro-expressions, making the duality feel lived-in rather than gimmicky. If you want someone who can sell both the savage and the sorrow, he’s the one I’d pick.

If you mash together the corrupting arc of Smeagol from 'The Lord of the Rings' with the cursed, soul-torn ring from 'Harry Potter', you get two cousins of dark magic that operate on different axes. The One Ring corrupts through personality and desire — it amplifies hunger for power, isolates the bearer’s will, and slowly eats away at identity until someone becomes like Smeagol. It’s an artifact with a kind of embedded will, forged to dominate other wills. By contrast, what we see in the Gaunt ring/Horcrux situation in 'Harry Potter' is soul-splintering and protective enchantment: creating a Horcrux deliberately anchors a piece of a soul to an object, which then radiates malevolent influence and can carry curses. Where Tolkien’s ring tempts and reshapes the self over time, a Horcrux actively anchors a fragment of a wizard’s consciousness and resists ordinary magic. If a One Ring landed in the Potterverse it might act like an extremely stubborn, self-aware Horcrux — detectable by Legilimency or dark-magic wards and maybe susceptible to Horcrux-destroying methods (basilisk venom, fiendfyre) — but it would still push back with its will. You’d have psychological possession layered over metaphysical anchoring: wizards could see the influence with Occlumency/Legilimency, and Healers/Protections might sense corruption, but destruction would likely demand both magical firepower and a moral struggle, maybe needing both the right destructive agents and the inner strength to let go.

I’ve always loved imagining mash-ups that shouldn’t work on paper but feel absolutely right in the headcanon lab, and picturing Smeagol skulking through the corridors of Hogwarts with the One Ring is delightfully chaotic. First off, invisibility is the obvious win: slipping past Filch, peeking into dormitories, and eavesdropping on late-night common room gossip would be his daily bread. But the Ring doesn’t just hide—you can feel it bending wills. At Hogwarts that would mean more than just being unseen; Smeagol could whisper and tug at weaker minds, coax house-elves into secret errands, or nudge a naive first-year into sharing treats from the kitchens. There’s also the clash of mythologies that fascinates me. In 'The Lord of the Rings' the Ring draws attention from Sauron; at Hogwarts it would probably radiate like a beacon to curious dark artifacts and the Ministry’s aurors. Imagine portraits whispering rumors of a glinting presence, Dumbledore following threads of strange enchantment, or even Voldemort sniffing out another source of domination. I love to think about small, human moments too: Smeagol hunched in a broom cupboard, murmuring to the Ring about sandwiches, half afraid to leave because of how comfortable its possessiveness feels. It’s messy, a little tragic, and totally compelling—like a crossover fanfic I’d reread for the creepy charm of it all.