In LOTR with Harry Potter system

Sylas and Gandalf followed the flow of the Mirkwood River, their small boat drifting steadily downstream. Eventually, the current led them to the estuary, where the river emptied into the vast waters of Long Lake.

Long Lake was formed by the meeting of the Mirkwood River and the Running River, the latter flowing down from the Lonely Mountain. Together, the rivers fed the lake, which in turn flowed eastward toward the distant Sea of Rhûn.

In the center of Long Lake sat Lake-town, a bustling trading settlement built upon stilts over the water. Guarded by stone headlands and veiled in mist, the town shimmered faintly through the fog.

The two wizards searched the water for any sign of the Dwarves but saw no trace of them.

Sylas raised his wand, and the glowing tip gently swung toward the center of the misty lake.

"Bilbo and the others must have found a way across," Sylas murmured.

"That's good news," Gandalf replied with a nod. "I expect we'll reunite with them in Lake-town."

But their moment of peace was short-lived.

From behind, a group of Orcs emerged from the upper river path, having tracked them all the way from Mirkwood. As the river slowed near the estuary, Sylas and Gandalf became exposed and vulnerable targets.

"There they are. Shoot them down!" the Orc captain snarled in Black Speech.

With a guttural cry, the Orcs released a storm of arrows that darkened the sky, all aimed at the drifting boat.

Sylas didn't flinch. With a firm motion, he raised his wand, "Protego". A shimmering dome of energy arced over the boat, deflecting dozens of arrows with loud metallic clangs.

But then, something unexpected happened.

A few arrows slipped through the magical shield, their tips glowing with ominous black light.

Gandalf's eyes widened.

"Morgul arrows! Watch out!" he shouted, slashing one from the air with Glamdring.

Sylas reacted instantly. He pulled up the oar and raised it like a shield just as two cursed arrows struck. The impact drove the arrows deep into the wood, their wicked black tips emerging on the other side, inches from his face.

He stared at the embedded shafts, his expression hardening.

These weren't ordinary Orcs. They had hidden Morgul arrows within a dense volley, disguising deadly poison under cover fire. Sylas discarded the oar immediately and stood, eyes locked on the attackers.

"Bombarda!"

He aimed his wand at the riverbank. A bolt of crackling red energy launched forward and detonated in a thunderous blast, sending Orcs flying through the air.

But the result wasn't what he expected.

Most of the Orcs had braced themselves, raising heavy black shields from their backs. The force of the explosion knocked them backward, but only a handful were actually killed. The rest crouched behind those mysterious shields, which gleamed with strange runes and seemed impervious to fire and force.

Sylas narrowed his eyes. The material was unfamiliar. It wasn't common steel or wood. These shields had been crafted with dark enchantments in mind.

Gandalf's expression grew grim.

"Sylas, these Orcs clearly know your methods; they were prepared!" Gandalf warned.

Sylas nodded silently, already piecing it together.

"Gandalf, we need to get to shore. I'm going to get answers from these Orcs."

Gandalf didn't argue. He swiftly angled the boat toward the riverbank, cutting through the current.

"Kill them! Kill them both!" the Orc captain howled in Black Speech, and a volley of arrows launched to block their path.

But just as the arrows soared through the air, Sylas lifted his wand with precision. With a sharp twist and a whispered spell, the bows in the Orcs' hands shimmered and warped.

In the blink of an eye, the weapons transformed into writhing, venomous snakes.

Startled shrieks erupted along the shoreline as the serpents struck, biting into Orc throats and arms. Some dropped to their knees, clutching at wounds, others stumbled backward in panic, flinging the twisted bows aside.

The snakes hissed, then crumbled into ash, revealing the original weapons on the ground as if nothing had happened.

But before the Orcs could recover or reach for their gear, Sylas was already in motion.

"Diffindo! Confringo! Reducto!"

Leaping from the boat, Sylas landed firmly on the shore, his robes billowing behind him as he unleashed a flurry of spells. Cutting curses, fire blasts, and shattering force rained down on the disoriented Orcs.

Explosions roared along the riverbank. Bodies flew backward. Smoke rose from scorched earth.

The remaining Orcs turned to flee, but it was already too late.

The captain tried to escape through the trees, but Sylas's voice rang out once more.

"Petrificus Totalus!"

The Orc stiffened and crashed to the ground, frozen mid-step.

Moments later, the battlefield was silent.

Sylas walked calmly toward the paralyzed Orc leader, stepping over smoking ground and twitching bodies. With a small wave of his wand, he released the paralysis spell.

The Orc leader immediately snarled and lunged, drawing a dagger that pulsed with a dark, sickly aura.

Sylas didn't even blink.

A burst of force erupted from his wand, blasting the Orc backward. The creature slammed into a large rock with a bone-jarring thud, crumpling to the base.

"You still want to kill me?" Sylas muttered, approaching slowly.

He knelt down, eyeing the weapon that had clattered beside the Orc.

Dark runes shimmered faintly along the dagger's edge.

"Interesting. Morgul Arrows, and now a cursed blade. Someone put real effort into arming you."

"Diffindo"

He raised his wand. With a single motion, the wand hummed with power and sliced through the Orc's arm. The severed limb fell to the ground, the dagger still clutched in its rigid grip.

The Orc screamed in pain but still glared at Sylas with hatred burning in his bloodshot eyes.

The dagger floated up from the dismembered limb and hovered threateningly near the Orc's throat.

"Tell me who's leading you now that Azog is dead. Why are you still chasing Thorin and the others?"

His tone was cold.

"If you talk, I'll let you live."

The Orc bared his bloodstained teeth in a grim smile, eyes glinting with malice.

"You'll never know, wizard," he spat. "Our master is ready. Whether it's you or the Dwarves, all of you will burn."

Gandalf had arrived by then, and at those words, his temper flared.

He stepped forward and slammed his staff against the rock behind the Orc, pinning him down with a flash of white light.

"Speak, filth," Gandalf growled. "Tell us what you know, or I'll burn the darkness out of you with the Flame of Anor."

The Orc snarled in pain, but his expression twisted into something even more defiant.

"You'll get nothing from me," he hissed. "The age of Men and Elves is over. The fire is rising. Our victory is written in flame."

Gandalf raised his staff again, this time with even more force.

But Sylas held out a hand.

"Wait," he said quietly. "If threats won't work… then I'll try something more precise."

He stepped forward and pointed his wand directly at the Orc's forehead.

"Imperio."

As Sylas's wand pulsed with golden light, the Imperius Curse settled over the Orc leader like a fog. The oppressive aura of Dark Arts lingered in the air, faint but undeniable.

Gandalf stood nearby, staff still pressed to the rock wall. His eyes narrowed.

Imperio did not kill or torture. It did not leave marks or scream in pain.

Its danger lay in silence.

It crept into a mind, rewrote its thoughts, and chained the will to the caster. A person under Imperio could be made to betray friends, murder family, destroy everything they once stood for, all while believing it was their own choice.

Even worse, there was no true counter-curse. No flick of a wand could undo its grip. The only ways to break free were through immense personal willpower, or the death of the caster.

And for most, willpower was not enough.

The glare in the orc face had faded. Its muscles slackened. Its eyes lost their fury and became distant, almost sleepy.

Sylas stepped forward.

"Who is your new leader?"

The Orc's jaw clenched for a moment. Something inside resisted. But the spell pressed down again, and his will cracked.

His voice came out in a low, flat tone.

"Azog's son. Bolg. He is our new king."

...

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