Robert had no time to hesitate.
If he didn't interrupt Old Man Willow's strange, hypnotic melody, countless Hobbits would either be killed or severely injured. And as for himself, survival was far from guaranteed.
Summoning every ounce of strength and willpower, Robert charged toward Old Man Willow, teeth gritted and body screaming in exhaustion. Today, either it dies or I survive!
Petrificus Totalus, Incendio, Expelliarmus, Leg-Locker Curse… Robert unleashed spells indiscriminately, caring little about their usual effectiveness.
Whoosh!
Before he could react, a thick root shot out from Old Man Willow and struck him squarely in the back. The force sent him flying dozens of meters before he slammed heavily onto the ground. Darkness clawed at his vision, and suffocating pain threatened to overwhelm him.
Fortunately, Robert had cast a Shield Charm on himself beforehand. Beneath his robes, chainmail protected him from the worst of the impact. Despite the protection, his body ached, and pain radiated sharply across his back.
On the brink of collapse, adrenaline surged through him, replacing fear and hesitation with pure anger and ferocity. The magical energy within him ignited, boiling under the heat of his emotions.
"Expelliarmus!"
An extraordinary surge of magic erupted from Robert, transforming into a blinding red light that struck Old Man Willow with immense force.
Crack!
The ancient tree snapped in half, releasing a deafening shriek as its movements ceased abruptly. Its massive body lay still, broken and lifeless, while flames continued to consume it.
Robert collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. Utter exhaustion gripped him; the aftermath of the spell, coupled with the lingering pain from the blow to his back, left him unable to rise.
Around him, the hypnotized Hobbits slowly regained consciousness. While their minds had remained clear, their bodies had been puppets under Old Man Willow's spell, forced toward certain doom. Now free, they looked at Robert with a mixture of awe, admiration, and gratitude.
"It's Robert! Robert the Wizard! He's our hero!" one Hobbit shouted. Others quickly echoed the sentiment, and soon the entire group was cheering their savior.
Robert finally managed to stand. Seeing his burned left hand and feeling the dull ache in his back, he gave a wry, helpless smile. This was the first time he had been injured so severely.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of Dittany Essence he had prepared earlier. Despite the pain, he applied it to his burned hand. Instantly, the wound began to heal at a visible rate, the skin restoring itself to a fairer, almost glowing condition.
Satisfied, Robert swallowed the remaining essence.
"Ugh, so bitter," he grimaced. Wizards preferred external application for a reason; the taste of Dittany Essence was truly unbearable. Yet its efficacy was undeniable. His throat, strained from spellcasting, recovered quickly, and the pain in his back began to fade. Mentally, he remained drained, but physically, he was largely restored.
Robert refocused on Old Man Willow, still split in two. Even he was surprised at the power he had unleashed. The massive tree, wide enough to require four or five men to hug, had fallen to a single Expelliarmus—a spell typically used only to disarm an opponent.
Harry Potter's signature spell indeed lives up to its legend, Robert thought. It can sever even a giant tree under the right conditions.
Yet, such power came at a cost. Robert's mind was utterly exhausted; he couldn't muster a single magical thread and would be unable to cast spells for days.
"Robert, are you alright?" Drogo Baggins rushed forward, eyes wide with worry.
Robert shook his head slightly. "Don't worry about me. The problem lies with them."
He gestured toward the Huorn Tree-men, now preoccupied with their own survival. Many of them had been set ablaze earlier with oil and wine, creating multiple points of fire that spread quickly through the forest.
Robert was powerless to intervene. Having antagonized the Tree-men, he could no longer act with kindness toward them. Completely drained of magical energy, he didn't even know the spell to extinguish the flames. All he could do was hope for rain to save the forest.
The Hobbits, naturally kind-hearted but cautious, stood aside, watching the fire cautiously, ensuring it did not spread to their own lands. Some, like Rory Brandybuck, secretly hoped that the Old Forest's destruction might allow them to claim more territory for the Brandybuck family.
Rory Brandybuck, as Lord of Brandy Hall, approached Robert and saluted deeply. "Robert the Wizard, we owe you everything! Tonight, you have saved countless lives and our home!"
The other Hobbits echoed the salute, including Drogo Baggins, Robert's close friend. Robert felt a slight flush of embarrassment. Deep down, he knew the Tree-men's uprising had been partly his fault, and he felt undeserving of their gratitude.
But the Hobbits saw it differently. Rory Brandybuck raised his voice, speaking loudly and sincerely, "From this day forward, Robert the Wizard is an eternal friend of Buckland! The Brandybuck family pledges our loyalty to you!"
Cheers erupted from the gathered Hobbits, marking the birth of a bond that promised lasting friendship.
Just as Rory began to organize a victory banquet, a long, melodic song drifted from the depths of the Old Forest.
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