Hearing Aragorn's final words, the King of the Dead and his army of the undead all showed expressions of relief and release. A gentle breeze swept across the battlefield, and the undead host dissolved like mist beneath the morning sun, vanishing completely.
The soldiers and citizens of Gondor turned their gazes toward Aragorn with reverence and awe. They all understood that it was this knight, who had summoned the Army of the Dead, who had saved Gondor and spared them from destruction.
"Aragorn! Aragorn!"
The name echoed across the battlefield. Even Faramir joined in the cry.
Only Denethor II, Regent of Gondor, stood apart. From the highest level of the White City, he looked down at Aragorn, now surrounded by cheering soldiers and citizens, his expression dark, heavy with bitterness and a sense of irreversible defeat.
At the same time, while the war in Gondor had reached its turning point, the Kingdom of Rohan was far from safe.
Along its borders, a vast magical army had already begun its invasion.
King Théoden reacted immediately. He personally led the Rohan cavalry to prepare for battle, while his son, was sent through the fireplace to Hogwarts to request reinforcements.
Rohan's strength was far weaker than Gondor's. This invading army was the largest Rohan had ever faced, commanded by a Ringwraith and supported by Dragons. Rohan had no confidence in resisting such a force alone. Worse still, Rohan's western border lay dangerously close to Isengard; if Rohan fell, the enemy would be free to sweep west and threaten the entire region.
Because of this, Sylas did not hesitate.
However, aid to Rohan could not mirror Gondor's situation. Gondor had survived because Aragorn could summon the Army of the Dead, but Rohan had no such last resort. If Hogwarts failed to intervene decisively, Rohan would almost certainly be destroyed.
Sylas therefore chose a different approach.
Instead of mobilizing Hogwarts' main forces, he dispatched ten thousand warriors stationed in the Rohan Gorge to reinforce Rohan directly. At the same time, he ordered Dragon Tamers from the nearby Dragon Breeding Grounds into battle, riding ten fully tamed fire dragons.
These Dragon Tamers were elite veterans, each capable of fighting high-tier magical creatures. The ten fire dragons they rode were among the rare few that had been successfully subdued, those that could not be tamed were destined to become magical materials, while the tamed ones served as permanent companions and guardians of the dragon farms.
Leading the reinforcements was Professor Brog, Hogwarts' long-serving Defense Against the Dark Arts professor and one of the most formidable sorcerers under Sylas' command. His mastery of both dark magic and counter-dark magic made him uniquely suited to fight Ringwraiths and corrupted beasts.
Outside Rohan's capital, Edoras, the combined forces of Rohan and the warriors clashed violently with the invading army. Professor Brog personally engaged the Ringwraith commanding the Fallen Beasts, holding his ground without yielding despite the enemy's overwhelming power.
The Dragon Tamers focused on the enemy's greatest threats, Dark Dragons, Fallen Beasts, and Trolls, creatures far beyond the capability of ordinary soldiers. With dragonfire tearing through the battlefield, the tide of war began to shift.
Yet even as Rohan fought for survival, another war ignited.
To the north, Hogwarts itself came under threat.
Hundreds of thousands of Orcs and Necromancers, led by the Witch-king of Angmar, poured south from the ruins of Angmar beyond the Misty Mountains. Dark clouds swallowed the sky as the army advanced.
The Ministry of Magic declared a state of emergency. Aurors were fully mobilized, and Hogsmeade and Bree were placed under martial law. Defensive lines formed along Hogwarts' northern border to prevent the war from reaching civilian territory.
Hogwarts Castle alone remained calm.
Students continued their lessons as usual, until a thunderous roar shook the earth. From deep beneath the castle, the Dragon Smaug awakened. Spreading his colossal wings, he soared into the sky, flying north as students and professors watched in stunned silence.
The northern border, once the heartland of an ancient kingdom, became the battlefield. There, the Hogwarts defensive forces prepared to intercept Angmar's army and keep the war from spreading south.
"Incoming!" a broom-riding scout shouted as he sped back.
"Prepare for battle!" the Auror commander roared.
As the dark clouds rolled overhead, an endless sea of enemies emerged from the hills, over five hundred thousand Orcs, supported by more than ten thousand Trolls from the mountains and frozen wastes.
The sheer number of Trolls was alarming.
It was enough to make even seasoned veterans uneasy. Only by stripping the entire Troll Mountain Range bare could the Witch-King of Angmar have assembled such a force. Orcs alone were not a serious threat to the Auror Legion, but Trolls were different.
Their bodies possessed strong magic resistance, and their brute strength was terrifying, each could lift boulders weighing over a thousand pounds and wield massive clubs capable of crushing armor and bone alike. Ordinary offensive spells barely affected them, and a single blow from a Troll was often fatal.
Behind the Orc and Troll formations came something far worse.
Shrouded in thick gray mist advanced an army of Wights.
These undead were more dangerous than Trolls. Their bodies were as hard as steel, yet their movements were unnaturally fast, too fast for ordinary soldiers to react. Worse still, wounds inflicted by their claws or cursed weapons carried a deadly corruption. Without immediate purification, the wounded would transform into Wights themselves, enslaved to the Witch-King's will.
A few hundred meters south of the advancing horde, the Auror Legion formed a long, perfectly aligned defensive line.
No orders were shouted.
As if sharing a single will, every Auror raised their staff at the same moment.
Beams of pure white light erupted simultaneously, expanding outward and merging into one another. The light spread across the ground like a rising tide, finally solidifying into a vast barrier of light that stretched for kilometers, cutting straight across the land. Even the dark clouds above were split cleanly in two, as though the sky itself had been severed.
The Orc army showed no hesitation.
Roaring with bloodlust, they surged down the mountainside, weapons raised, charging straight toward the Auror Legion. The Aurors did not move. Their commander merely watched in silence, staff lowered.
The first Orc crossed the barrier, and turned instantly to ash.
...
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