In LOTR with Harry Potter system

From a concealed ledge above the cavern, two cloaked figures watched the chaos unfold beneath the cover of a Disillusionment Charm.

Sylas leaned close and whispered, "Gandalf, should we step in?"

The wizard's eyes were narrowed, glinting beneath his brim. He gave the slightest shake of his head. "Not yet."

As if in eerie harmony, the Goblin King echoed those very words below.

"Wait a moment," he snarled to his guards.

The grotesque monarch had just identified Thorin Oakenshield. After a round of jeering and mocking Thorin's fall from glory, the Goblin King gave a cruel smirk and hissed, "Send word to Azog. The Pale Orc will pay handsomely for this prize."

That was all Gandalf needed to hear.

"Now!" he roared, leaping from the shadows.

He crashed into the cavern like a thunderclap, staff raised high. A blinding shockwave of light burst outward, hurling goblins across the cave like leaves before a storm. Even the Goblin King was flung from his dais with a guttural screech.

The Dwarves stared in awe as Gandalf landed before them, cloak billowing like wings of flame.

"Grab your weapons and run!" he barked.

But there was no time to celebrate. More goblins poured in, screeching from every tunnel and shaft, their claws and crooked blades gleaming in the firelight.

The company ran.

Weapons in hand, they fought their way down narrow bridges and rickety staircases, trying to outpace the horde nipping at their heels.

Just as they neared the exit, a massive shape loomed in their path.

The Goblin King.

He had survived the fall and now blocked their only escape, his bloated body swaying with fury, his club raised high.

"Fools! You think you can run from me?" he bellowed, spit flying from his crooked teeth. "You'll die where you stand!"

From behind, more goblins closed in, thousands of them, clambering over the walls like vermin. They were trapped.

"Gandalf!" Balin cried, panting, his axe slick with goblin blood. "What now?"

But Gandalf's face remained composed, the corners of his mouth twitching into a knowing smile.

"We still have help."

"Petrificus Totalus!"

A bolt of blue-white light streaked from the shadows and struck the Goblin King squarely between the shoulders.

The grotesque monarch froze mid-roar, club raised, mouth open, eyes bulging with horror. His limbs locked rigidly, and he toppled like a statue.

Sylas emerged from the gloom behind him, wand still raised, a glint in his eye.

He didn't hesitate.

Drawing the sword from his belt, he plunged the sword deep into the Goblin King's back. Fire burst from the blade, consuming the monster's insides in an instant. The king's body collapsed in a pile of smoke and ash.

Silence fell for a heartbeat.

Then, screams.

"He killed the King! That wizard killed the King!"

A tide of rage swept over the goblins. They howled in madness, swarming toward Sylas and the company like a living wave of claws and teeth.

"Protego Totalum!" Sylas shouted, casting a shimmering dome of golden light over the group.

The goblins slammed into the barrier, scratching and pounding at it with blind fury. Hundreds of them piled onto each other, forming a quivering, seething wall of bodies that clawed against the invisible shield.

But the barrier held.

Inside, surrounded by the roars and howls of their enemies, the Dwarves and wizards finally caught their breath.

However, as the sheer number of goblin corpses piling around the magical barrier became more apparent, the Dwarves began to grow anxious again.

"Sylas," Balin said, peering through the translucent golden dome, "we may be safe in here, but we're surrounded. How do we get out?"

"Don't worry," Sylas replied calmly, tightening his grip on his wand. "I have a plan."

He reached into his enchanted leather pouch and drew forth a curious-looking clay pot, inside was a grotesque, writhing little plant with a humanoid body, clenched fists, and a sour expression frozen in magical paralysis.

"A Mandrake," Gandalf murmured, raising an eyebrow. "You've been cultivating dangerous flora, I see."

Sylas gave a slight grin. "This one's fully matured, but it's been under Petrificus Totalus since sprouting. I wasn't keen on losing my own ears. But now…"

He turned to the others. "Everyone, cover your ears, and more importantly, stay still."

With that, Sylas performed a series of precise wand movements.

"Silencio Maximas," he said, coating the Dwarves and himself with powerful Silencing Charms, one by one.

Only then did he release the binding spell on the Mandrake.

The creature immediately sprang to life, thrashing and screeching in a furious, earsplitting wail, like the shriek of a thousand tortured banshees rolled into one.

Even with the Silencing Charm in place, the sound was so intense it made the Dwarves stagger and clutch their heads instinctively. It was like a vibration in their very bones.

But for the Goblins outside the barrier, there was no protection.

The closest ones dropped like flies, struck dead mid-screech. Others collapsed where they stood, clutching their ears, before tumbling into the abyss below like a rain of twitching, lifeless dolls. The cacophony echoed through the vast cavern, then gradually faded.

Moments later, the entire Goblin Town was deathly silent.

Not a groan. Not a footstep. Just silence.

Sylas calmly reapplied Petrificus Totalus on the writhing Mandrake and tucked it back into his pouch.

Then he waved his wand and lifted the Silencing Charms from the group.

"It's over," he said, brushing dust from his robes. "We're clear."

The Dwarves stared in stunned silence at the field of twisted corpses surrounding them. Then their eyes turned to the unassuming pot Sylas had placed back in his pouch.

"What was that thing?" Balin finally managed, voice hoarse with disbelief.

"That scream, like a spirit clawing at my soul," Fili added, pale. "I thought I was about to drift off into the next world!"

"You would've," Balin muttered, "if Sylas hadn't cast that charm."

Kíli, however, looked excited. "That thing's sound killed hundreds of goblins instantly! If we toss it at Smaug, wouldn't that deal with the dragon in one shot?"

The moment he said it, the entire company turned toward Sylas with wide, hopeful eyes, even Thorin looked intrigued.

If the Dragon could truly be dealt with this way, he wouldn't need to search for the arkenstone to rally the Dwarven race; he could simply reclaim the Lonely Mountain directly.

However, the Dwarves' growing excitement was quickly extinguished.

Gandalf, who had remained contemplative, finally shook his head.

"I admit, the Mandrake's cry is far more potent than I anticipated," he said gravely. "But Smaug is no ordinary creature. He is ancient, cunning, and one of the last great fire dragon of the north. His soul is not so easily shaken."

He glanced at Sylas with a look of both concern and curiosity. "The Mandrake's scream may incapacitate goblins and even fell trolls. But a dragon? At best, it might disorient him, if caught by surprise. But it would not kill him."

His tone left no room for argument. The Dwarves visibly deflated, their eyes slowly turning away from Sylas's leather pouch.

Thorin exhaled quietly and nodded. "Then we'll have to do it the hard way."

"Come," Gandalf said, tapping his staff against the stone. "Let's get out of here before the rest of Goblin-town wakes up."

But Sylas didn't move.

"Wait," he said, looking around. "We're still missing someone."

The Dwarves blinked.

"Missing someone?"

"Wait a moment…" Balin's face suddenly paled. "Where's Bilbo?"

Gasps followed as the realization spread like wildfire.

"Wasn't he just with us?!"

"I haven't seen him since the Goblins caught us!"

"I thought he was behind me!"

The panic began to rise in their voices.

"Has anyone seen Bilbo since the escape?" Gandalf asked sternly.

All the Dwarves shook their heads.

Then Balin suddenly went rigid. "Oh no. That scream from the Mandrake, Bilbo… he wasn't nearby, was he?"

The others all turned as one to Sylas, faces stricken with fear.

Even Gandalf looked deeply concerned.

But Sylas simply raised a hand to calm them. "Relax. I checked with the Palantír before using the Mandrake. Bilbo wasn't anywhere near us when I cast the spell."

A collective breath of relief swept through the group.

"Then where is he?" Thorin asked, frowning.

Sylas pointed to the black abyss beneath their feet.

"He fell. I saw it earlier in the Palantír. But he's alive, some scrapes, but no serious injury. Lucky, as ever."

The Dwarves looked down, their expressions mixed with guilt and relief.

"Next time," Dwalin muttered, "maybe mention that bit before the whole 'abyss' part?"

"I'll work on my delivery," Sylas replied dryly.

"Quickly then," Kíli urged, "use the Palantír again. Let's find him and get him out!"

Sylas nodded, pulling the crystal orb from his pouch and focusing his mind.

But a minute passed. Then another.

Sylas's brows knit in confusion. He tapped the side of the orb. "That's strange…"

"What is it?" Gandalf asked, leaning in.

"The scene at the bottom of the chasm is clear… but Bilbo's not there."

...

Stones Plzz

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