In LOTR with Harry Potter system

When it came to the use of the Dark Arts, none of them were rigid moralists. They were wise enough to understand that the world was not divided cleanly into black and white, but they also understood the cost of walking that edge.

To everyone's surprise, especially Sylas's, Galadriel turned and offered him the crystal phial containing the Light of Eärendil.

"Take it," she said gently.

"The Dark Arts can corrupt even the strongest hearts. This light will help anchor you. It will remind you who you are, and guide you back if you ever lose your way."

Sylas blinked in astonishment. He hesitated.

"My Lady... this is too precious."

He had watched her wield it with awe. It had struck down Sauron himself, burning through the darkness with divine brilliance. To accept such a gift, it felt far beyond what he deserved.

But Galadriel simply smiled, pressing the phial into his hands with graceful finality.

"Then consider it payment… for the Potion you gave me."

Sylas flushed slightly and bowed his head.

"Thank you, Lady Galadriel. I will treasure it, and never forget."

He carefully tucked the phial away, feeling its quiet glow pulse warmly at his side.

They did not linger long in the ruin of Dol Guldur. The battle was won, but the forest remained uneasy.

Radagast, true to his nature, was eager to return to his woodland sanctuary, where mushrooms, squirrels, and medicinal herbs awaited him far more loyally than kings or councils.

Elrond and Glorfindel, at Galadriel's invitation, chose to remain in Lothlórien for a time. They would discuss future measures, how to prepare against Sauron's eventual return.

Sylas and Gandalf, however, declined the offer of rest.

They had someone to catch up with.

This time, Gandalf had not been captured in Dol Guldur as he had been in another fate. The White Council had not needed to storm the fortress in desperation. This time, they had arrived early, and triumphed together.

Only a few days had passed.

Judging by the route and pace of Thorin's company, they had likely not yet left Mirkwood.

Time still remained.

Before setting off, Radagast cheerfully offered to give them a ride, and so, once again, the wizard's rabbit-drawn sleigh whooshed across the forest floor at terrifying speed.

"Faster than any horse, I always say!" Radagast beamed, narrowly avoiding a massive tree root.

Sylas and Gandalf bounced wildly in the back of the sleigh, clinging to the sides for dear life.

Branches whipped past. Trees blurred. Sylas may have shrieked once, just once.

When they finally skidded to a halt at the edge of the Old Forest Road, both passengers were a bit pale and windblown.

"Phew… exhilarating," Gandalf wheezed, patting his chest. "Bless your enthusiasm, Radagast, but my heart isn't what it used to be."

Radagast grinned, offered a cheery farewell, and disappeared in a blur of fur, cloak, and carrot crumbs.

After catching their breath, Gandalf turned to Sylas.

"Come on. We've no time to waste. I don't know where Bilbo and the others are now, but I hope we can catch up before they get themselves into trouble."

Sylas thought for a moment, trying to recall the timeline.

If memory served, Thorin's company was due to encounter giant spiders soon… and shortly after, they'd run afoul of the Elves of the Woodland Realm and wind up imprisoned in Thranduil's dungeons.

That meant they were still close.

"We could find them easily," Sylas said, reaching into his satchel. "I'll use the Palantír."

He was just about to activate the seeing stone when Gandalf's hand stopped him.

The wizard's tone turned serious.

"Don't."

"The Palantír is powerful, yes, but it is not to be used lightly. And certainly not here."

Sylas blinked. "Why not? We used it before..."

"This forest has a master," Gandalf interrupted softly. "And if you use the Palantír to peer into it, he may interpret it as a challenge. Or a threat. We would do well not to provoke him."

Upon hearing this, Sylas remembered the situation when Gandalf had detected him using the Palantír earlier.

Sylas immediately tucked the Palantír back into his satchel.

The Elves of Mirkwood, from king to soldier, were not known for their forgiving nature, especially when it came to trespasses of the mystical sort.

If Thranduil sensed someone peering into his forest without permission… things could get very unpleasant.

The two wizards continued along the Old Forest Road, also known as the Elven-path, a once-beautiful road now shadowed by gloom. The trees lining the way looked sickly and skeletal, as if the life had been drained from them. The very air seemed heavy with rot, decay, and something darker still.

Gandalf's face tightened into a frown.

"Careful with your breathing," he warned, covering his nose with a sleeve. "The air here is tainted by Dark Magic. Breathe in too much, and it may muddle your thoughts, dizziness, hallucinations, even worse."

He muttered more to himself than to Sylas, "I only hope the Dwarves haven't taken in too much of this poison… if they've wandered off course, things could turn grim fast."

Sylas sniffed the air and immediately wrinkled his nose. It was foul, like swamp gas mixed with spoiled herbs.

Raising his wand, he gave it a quick flourish.

"Bubble-Head Charm."

A shimmering bubble of clean air formed over his head, instantly sealing out the noxious atmosphere.

"Would you like one too, Gandalf?" 

"Absolutely." 

With another flick of his wand, Sylas cast the charm on Gandalf as well. Two bubble-headed wizards now strode down the forest road, looking slightly ridiculous, but breathing far more comfortably.

The spell was originally intended for underwater breathing, something Sylas had picked up from the spellbook titled Charming Conjurations and Curious Charms. But it served just as well in cursed forests.

They moved quickly through the tangled woods, their magical bubbles bobbing with each step, until they reached a broken stone bridge stretching over a wide, sluggish river.

At the sight, Gandalf's brow furrowed deeply.

"Just as I feared."

He leaned over the crumbled edge, his eyes scanning the terrain.

"They couldn't cross here. Which means… they must've tried another way."

Not far from the shattered span, he spotted a series of thick vines trailing down to the water, vines that had been disturbed recently. Bits of mud and crushed leaves clung to them, signs of climbing or swinging.

As Gandalf studied the clues, Sylas wandered down to the riverbank.

The water shimmered with an unnatural gleam, its dark surface swirling with a faint silver sheen. He could feel the Dark Magic emanating from it, strong, almost hypnotic.

"Interesting…" Sylas murmured.

He transfigured a few empty glass flasks from a nearby stone and began carefully scooping up the water.

This wasn't ordinary river water. One touch could induce hallucinations or knock someone unconscious. It reminded him of a Sleeping Draught, except wilder, more unpredictable.

"Could be useful," Sylas muttered. "For alchemy… or enemies."

When Gandalf turned and saw him bottling cursed river water like a curious apothecary, he sighed.

"Sylas, it's time to move. We need to find Bilbo and the others, preferably before something else does."

"Coming!" Sylas tucked the stoppered vials into his pouch and jogged over.

He paused briefly, raising his wand toward the broken bridge.

"Reparo!"

With a magical shimmer, the shattered stones knit themselves back together, sealing the bridge whole again.

The two crossed the now-sturdy bridge and pressed on.

But as they continued down the trail, the signs of travel vanished. No footprints. No broken branches. Nothing.

It was clear: after crossing the river, the company hadn't returned to the Elven-path. They had veered elsewhere.

Gandalf's face grew tense with worry.

Sylas tried to reassure him.

"Don't worry, Gandalf. Maybe they just didn't return to the main road. They could be ahead of us, just on a different path."

He paused, then added thoughtfully:

"And… I have a spell that might help us locate them."

Upon hearing this, Gandalf's eyes lit up with a spark of hope.

"This will be my first attempt," Sylas admitted honestly, "so I can't promise it will work right away." Though he had seen this spell described in the Book of Spells, he had never actually cast it himself.

Clearing his throat, Sylas raised his wand and focused on Bilbo. Recalling the precise wand motion from the book, he flicked his wrist and spoke clearly:

"Homenum Revelio"

A soft whoosh echoed as a slender blue beam shot from the tip of his wand, like a magical compass needle. The glowing thread of light hovered in the air, then bent slightly, pointing deep into the murky heart of Mirkwood.

Gandalf and Sylas exchanged a meaningful glance.

The direction wasn't entirely off from the Lonely Mountain, but it certainly wasn't the expected path either. If the spell was correct, then Thorin and his company were no longer on the Elven Road, they were well off course.

Gandalf exhaled a long, weary sigh. "Come, let's see just how far they've strayed this time."

With that, the two left the crumbling path of the Old Forest Road and plunged into the wild tangle of trees, following the line of magical light through the underbrush.

Thanks to the spell's guidance, they had a solid direction, and the two made haste through the dark woods.

As they ventured deeper into Mirkwood, the forest grew more oppressive. Towering trees blocked out the sky, their gnarled branches clawing together to form a ceiling so dense that even sunlight was a stranger here.

The air grew still. Windless. Lifeless.

What's worse, thick, silken webs began to appear, draped between tree trunks and trailing from every branch. The deeper they went, the more the webs closed in, until the path ahead looked more like the inside of a cocoon than a forest trail.

Sylas stopped abruptly.

"Hmm?" Gandalf turned. "Did you see something?"

Sylas pointed upward at the trees, his voice low. "Look at the webs, Gandalf. I think we've entered the nesting grounds of the spiders, the very ones Radagast warned us about. The children of Ungoliant."

Even as he spoke, a dreadful sound began to rise around them.

Rustle... scrape... slither...

It came from all directions, the harsh dragging of many limbs across bark, ground, and web. From the shadows above and below, giant spiders emerged, one after another. Their bodies were grotesquely bloated, their eyes glowing with a sickly green hue, and their fangs gleamed with venom.

They circled the two intruders like predators savoring the moment before the kill.

Each click of their limbs echoed in the gloom. Every gaze burned with hunger.