Author's Note: Well the follows and favorites for this seem good, but I'd like some written opinions so I know what y'all think in more detail. Also I don't have internet until Tuesday so I am uploading these from my phone and thus have no easy way to double check my research so some of the Middle Earth spellings might be off.

And yes the somewhat off-putting tonal shifts between Sirius and inhabitants of Middle Earth is on purpose. I'm drawing a bit from Mark Twain's Connecticut Yankee in King Arthur's Court here.

Chapter 2: The Red Wizard

Sirius was just along for the ride at this point. Either he was in some weird afterlife. Some weird fey realm. Though he was pretty sure tales of the Nevernever, Avalon, and Asgard all were wildly different from this.

For indeed once they had left the dismal tower, climbed down the rocky tainted hill, and gotten a few leagues off from the corruption of the Barrow-wights he found the kingdom of Arthedain to be quite pleasant.

Rolling green hills with copses of trees dotting the landscape as far as the eye could see, he could do a lot worse for places to be stranded.

"Hark, Lord Sirius, however did you come about the summoning of the spirit of Huan?" Bespoke the prince.

"Huan? Spirit? Do you mean the dog-shaped light I summoned? It is simply a protective spell that takes the form of my own spirit's shape. I can also turn myself into that animal at will! I call myself Padfoot like that!"

And with that he shifted into his animagus form to the shock and awe of the ten Dunedain around him.

"This wizard must be the reincarnation of the great hound! Huan of legend born again! For he has the very form and essence of the beast of yore! And when called upon the spirit strides again to protect all near him!" One of the men called out.

Sirius turned back into his human form and coughed into his hand, "Well I don't know about that. I had to study magic long and hard to pull off both of these spells. I simply can turn into a hound because my personality is suited to such. Loyal, fierce, determined, and a little playful. All that good stuff!"

But the prince shook his head, "Nay, friend wizard. Perhaps all you say is true, and yet ever did the hound of Valinor protect the hero Beren and his love Luthien. He spoke but thrice, and yet that proved an intelligence and spirit more powerful than most mortals. If not reborn, you are surely blessed by he."

The wizard further resigned himself to being the victim, though perhaps in this case benefactor, of their superstitions and local religion.

"Well it is not all I can do, but I guess those are two of my strongest spells, yeah," Trying to change the subject he glanced around.

"Those trees seem...strange to me." And indeed there was a copse of trees in the distance, taller and thicker than any other near, and also a darker and more vibrant green.

"Oh, aye, those would be the Ents that visit at times the Old Forest of Orald. He is a strange fellow. Powerful we think, but prone to self-isolation and queer antics," Prince Araval explained, "He has his own kind of magic. A subtle art to do with the workings of the earth and the trees from what I have heard. His wife, Goldberry is some kind of sprite or spirit, a fae woman made manifest, lovely as any elf maiden or so the stories say."

"So that stories say? It's right there, don't you all go visit? Stop by for a cuppa?"

The prince blinked at the strange wizard who had rescued him, "My you wizards all have the strangest notions don't you? I suppose he might greet you as kindred. I hear the Grey Wizard was once seen going in to the Old Forest before he departed to the southeast after first appearing on Middle Earth with his fellows. You're a bit behind the rest of them in fact, I hear the Blue Wizards have both already departed for the far east, and the White and Grey have been roaming collecting fell knowledge for nigh two centuries now. The Brown Wizard simply disappeared into the wilds."

At this the prince finally narrowed his eyes at Sirius's garb, "What wizard are you? A black wizard?"

"Oh my family may be Black," Sirius couldn't resist the pun as his mind worked at top speed to figure out the best way to handle the situation, "But I..."

He paused dramatically and flourished his wand, "Am Sirius the Red!" And with a twirl his robes repaired themselves and turned a deep Gryffindor red, with the gold trim he remembered from his old quidditch robes. In fact overall his transfiguration quite resembled his old quidditch robes, purposefully layered and parted in places to allow a full range of movement. Minus the helmet of course.

And the men of Arthedain were much awed by this display. For red was indeed a color very far from black, the color of the Ancient Enemy and his rogue Witch King, and denoted a type of power and violence that perhaps could be used against the Witch King. While the other wizards all seemed elderly and fae and studious in nature, with a bit of fickleness and temperamental nature thrown in, this wizard seemed youthful and vigorous. Prone to combat and valor.

Certainly, thought the prince, this was a wizard whom could aid them greatly in their battles to come. When the other wizards did not. Two hundred years since they had arrived in Mithlond, and not once had one of them ever attempted to aid Arthedain against the Witch King, instead disappearing into the wilds or the far east or the archives of Gondor and Orthanc. This wizard, he mused, might not be so useless to them.