In LOTR with Harry Potter system

"That's right," Gandalf nodded, confirming it with a calm but firm tone. "I have a premonition that things will go more smoothly this time. Perhaps, we won't run into any serious trouble."

Sylas wasn't entirely convinced. He gave the old wizard a skeptical look.

He wasn't doubting Gandalf's wisdom, but even he had to admit, against Sauron, the two of them alone didn't stand a chance. No matter how many clever tricks he had, they were still just two wizards walking into the lion's den.

"You're placing a lot of trust in this 'premonition,'" Sylas said dryly. "Maybe we should consider bringing reinforcements... like Elrond. Or even Lady Galadriel?"

"There's no time," Gandalf said, shaking his head grimly. "The Orcs have begun their move. Beorn was clear, they're gathering at Dol Guldur right now. If we wait, it might be too late to act."

Sylas gave a wry smile and reached into his pouch, pulling out a glass bottle filled with glimmering green powder. He shook it lightly.

"Did you forget I carry this?" he said.

Gandalf blinked. "Floo Powder?"

"Exactly. I already connected Beorn's fireplace to the Floo Network," Sylas explained. "It links straight to Rivendell. We don't need to fight this battle alone."

Although Lady Galadriel couldn't be contacted for the time being, inviting Elrond would still be a powerful aid and a source of confidence.

He smiled faintly. "Elrond is there. And so is Glorfindel. You've seen his strength, he's more than a match for any creature of shadow."

Gandalf raised his eyebrows, impressed, then chuckled and lightly smacked his forehead.

"Your thinking is faster than mine these days, Sylas."

"But we don't need to go all the way back to Beorn's house," Gandalf added after a moment's thought. "There's someone else we should see first, an old friend who lives closer to Dol Guldur."

"You mean... Radagast the Brown?"

Gandalf nodded. "Indeed. His cottage lies in the southern woods. If his fireplace can be linked to the Floo Network, we'll be within reach of both Dol Guldur and Rivendell."

Sylas agreed.

But Thorin was far from pleased.

"I object!" Thorin snapped, his voice heavy with fury. His gaze burned into Gandalf's. "You can leave if you want, but he stays with us!"

He jabbed a finger toward Sylas.

"I don't care about Orcs or Necromancers! That has nothing to do with us. Our one and only mission is to reach Erebor before Durin's Day, reclaim the Arkenstone, and restore the Kingdom Under the Mountain!"

Sylas met Thorin's eyes evenly, then spoke in a measured tone.

"Thorin, I understand your urgency. But if what we suspect is true, then the threat from Dol Guldur won't stop at the forest's edge. If we ignore it, it may follow us straight to the gates of Erebor."

Thorin said nothing, but his clenched fists spoke volumes.

"I give you my word," Sylas continued, "we'll rejoin you before you reach the mountain."

"Dol Guldur affects the fate of all Middle-earth. We must investigate thoroughly, if we don't, the darkness may rise again and disrupt your plans to reclaim Erebor."

But Thorin wasn't having it. He crossed his arms and grumbled stubbornly, "What concern is Middle-earth to me? I care only for the Arkenstone, and taking back my kingdom!"

His sharp gaze locked onto Sylas, and he growled through clenched teeth, "Sylas, are you really going with him? Don't forget, you signed a contract with me. Are you planning to break it?"

Sylas let out a quiet sigh. Thorin's one-track mind could be exhausting.

"I gave you my word, Thorin. I will help you reclaim Erebor. We'll return before Durin's Day and stand with you against the dragon. You have my promise."

Despite Sylas's calm assurance, Thorin's face darkened with suspicion.

"You'd best keep that promise. If you don't fulfill your part of the contract, you won't see a single coin, not even a copper one!"

And just like that, the company parted on tense terms.

While Thorin and his dwarves made preparations to head east through the dense, shadowed paths of Mirkwood, Sylas and Gandalf turned their horses southward, toward the looming threat of Dol Guldur.

Bilbo, for a moment, looked as though he might follow them. Compared to slogging through spider-infested forests with a pack of grumbling dwarves, traveling with wizards seemed rather appealing.

But Gandalf gently placed a hand on his shoulder. "No, Bilbo. Stay with the Company. They need you more than you know."

And so, they went their separate ways.

Sylas and Gandalf rode south along the banks of the Anduin River, the summer sun filtering through tall trees and casting golden light over the path. Eventually, they reached the southern tip of the Greenwood, now known by most as Mirkwood. There, they released their horses and ventured on foot into the forest.

A narrow path led them to a cabin nestled deep in the woods, built from rough-hewn stone and aged timber. It was overgrown and moss-covered, the thatched roof wild with weeds and dotted with mushrooms. It looked abandoned, at least, until they noticed the lazy curl of smoke rising from the chimney.

Then, the door creaked open.

Radagast the Brown stepped out, blinking against the sunlight. His robes were patched with bird feathers and bits of moss, and a curious squirrel peeked from beneath his hat.

"Gandalf! What brings you here?" he asked, clearly surprised.

"Radagast," Gandalf said warmly, his staff tapping the ground as he approached. "Sylas and I were passing nearby and thought we'd pay you a visit. Are we welcome?"

"Of course, of course, come in, come in!" Radagast beamed and motioned eagerly toward the cabin. Then his eyes landed on Sylas, and they lit up with recognition.

"Ah, I remember you! The young wizard who helped me last time, luring away those foul Orcs and Wargs near Rhosgobel. Well met, lad!"

"It's good to see you again," Sylas said with a warm smile, nodding politely.

Radagast beamed and ushered them inside the woodland cabin. Without missing a beat, he busied himself brewing a steaming pot of herbal tea using an assortment of roots that Sylas couldn't immediately identify.

When he took a sip, Sylas winced slightly at the bitterness.

Yet something astonishing happened.

A subtle surge of warmth coursed through him, melting away the stiffness in his limbs. The fatigue of days on horseback vanished like fog in sunlight. This wasn't ordinary tea, it was infused with natural magic.

Suddenly, a translucent prompt flickered before his eyes.

[Hogwarts Sign-In System: Current Location – Mirkwood, Radagast the Brown's Cabin. Would you like to sign in?]

Sylas nearly dropped his teacup in surprise. He hadn't expected a reward here of all places.

"Yes," he whispered eagerly. "Sign in."

[Sign-in successful! Congratulations! You have received: Professor Sprout's Herbology Knowledge]

In that moment, a torrent of knowledge surged into his mind, detailed insights on magical plant cultivation, harvesting rituals, crossbreeding techniques, and potion applications. It was as though someone had cast a powerful Memory Charm, inserting Professor Sprout's lifetime of expertise directly into his consciousness.

Sylas was thrilled. He had planned to study the magical flora of Middle-earth and compare it with plants from the wizarding world, hoping to find equivalents and develop new potions. He never expected to gain a master's level understanding of Herbology in an instant.

He took another sip of the tea. This time, as the earthy flavor lingered on his tongue, he instinctively recognized magical traits in the ingredients, some that matched dittany, others that mimicked gillyweed or asphodel.

Radagast noticed the boy's growing excitement and, mistaking it for appreciation of his rustic brew, grinned broadly. With a chuckle, he poured another brimming bowl and handed it over with a proud look.

Sylas, who had endured much worse in the name of medicine back in his old world, accepted the refill without complaint. Under Gandalf's amused gaze, he downed the bowl in one confident gulp. Then, out of genuine curiosity, he asked about the ingredients.

Delighted to find someone who actually cared about his herbal craft, Radagast launched into a spirited explanation. As the most herbally inclined of the five Istari, and a Maia under the goddess Yavanna, Radagast knew every plant, root, and moss that grew in the wild corners of Middle-earth.

Sylas listened attentively, absorbing everything.

Before long, the conversation transformed into a lively exchange of ideas. Sylas proposed innovative ways to blend Middle-earth herbs with magical brewing techniques from Hogwarts, which fascinated Radagast. 

Their discussion grew so intense that they completely forgot about Gandalf.

After a while, the grey wizard cleared his throat, once, twice, then a third time more insistently.

Radagast blinked, then turned with a sheepish expression. "Oh dear. I nearly forgot you were still here, Gandalf."

Gandalf smiled patiently, clearly used to this kind of thing. Radagast scratched his beard, finally remembering the original purpose of their visit.

"Right then... was there something important you came to discuss?"

...

Stones PLzzz