The Mage of Middle-Earth - CH - 17 (Patreon)

Sirius let out a long sigh of relief as the news of Gandalf's departure from the Shire spread. The wizard had ventured further into Middle-Earth, passing through Bree, and for now, Sirius felt like he could relax. Though the Shire had become his sanctuary, Bree offered a different kind of escape. It was a place where he could let loose, shed the burden of his hobbit disguise, and embrace his human urges without restraint.

After a long day of tending to his fields and a lively evening at the Green Dragon in Hobbiton, Sirius—known as Jimmy Potter to the hobbits—returned to his cozy hobbit hole. The warmth of the hearth was welcoming, but it didn’t hold the excitement he craved. He locked the door behind him, took a deep breath, and with a flick of his fingers, vanished from the hobbit hole.

When Sirius reappeared on the outskirts of Bree, he was no longer Jimmy Potter. His form shifted into that of a tall, weathered man with sandy brown hair and a tired yet handsome face—Remus Lupin. In this guise, Sirius had crafted an entirely new life, one that allowed him to roam Bree freely without suspicion. It was the perfect cover for his nightly indulgences.

As he strolled through the streets, the townsfolk greeted him with familiarity. "Remus" was well-known in Bree, a wealthy traveler who seemed to have no need for steady work. He had told countless stories of his adventures across Middle-Earth, each one more thrilling than the last, and the townspeople never tired of hearing them. His wealth and charm made him a welcome guest in the inns and taverns, and no one ever questioned his presence.

Tonight, Sirius was in no mood for small talk. His destination was one of Bree's more discreet establishments, a brothel tucked away in a quiet corner of the town. He had visited many times before, and the women there were familiar with the mysterious yet generous "Remus Lupin." It was a place where he could indulge in his desires without a care, where no one questioned his past or his wealth.

As he stepped through the door, the atmosphere inside was warm and inviting. The madam greeted him with a knowing smile, leading him to a private room where the night’s pleasures awaited. Sirius allowed himself to forget everything—the Shire, Gandalf, the growing darkness in his magic—and simply let go. For a few hours, he was neither Jimmy Potter nor Sirius Black. He was just a man living in the moment, free from the weight of his past and the uncertain future.

The hours passed in a blur of laughter, pleasure, and drink, but as dawn approached, Sirius knew it was time to leave. He dressed himself, left a generous tip for the madam and her girls, and slipped out into the cool early morning air. With a quick glance around to ensure no one was watching, he teleported back to the outskirts of the Shire, his form once again shifting into that of a humble hobbit.

By the time the sun rose over the rolling hills, Sirius was back in his hobbit hole, preparing for another ordinary day. He resumed his daily routine, working the fields and chatting with the other hobbits, just as he had done every day since his arrival in the Shire.

But now, there was a subtle difference. As he worked, a part of him still lingered in Bree, reliving the freedom he had tasted there. It was a dangerous balance, living between two worlds, and he knew he would have to be careful. Gandalf might have moved on for now, but Sirius was under no illusion that his presence would go unnoticed forever. He had to remain vigilant, keep his cover intact, and continue his quiet, careful existence.

The days passed like clockwork. Sirius continued his training in secret, fine-tuning his control over his enhanced magic, all while maintaining the appearance of a simple hobbit in public. He knew that as long as he played his part well, he could enjoy the best of both worlds. But there was always a lingering feeling in the back of his mind—how long could he keep this up before something, or someone, uncovered the truth?

For now, though, life went on as usual. The Shire was peaceful, and Sirius—Jimmy Potter to his neighbors—was just another friendly hobbit. But when the nights grew long, and the pull of Bree became too strong, he knew exactly where to go to release the tensions that came with living a double life.

Jimmy Potter, the hobbit who had quickly become a beloved figure in the Shire, was known for his infectious charm and captivating stories of wild adventures. His tales of traveling to far-off lands enchanted his fellow hobbits, who found him both mysterious and exciting. Every hobbit family in Hobbiton admired Jimmy, and it wasn't long before the proposals started rolling in. Mothers and fathers alike approached him, eager to arrange marriages between their daughters and the dashing adventurer.

Even the Took family, known for being the most adventurous and daring of all hobbits, sent word that their daughter, one of the boldest and most independent hobbit women, would be honored to marry Jimmy. But despite the relentless pressure, Sirius—living as Jimmy Potter—had no interest in settling down. His heart belonged to the thrill of adventure, and he had no desire to be tied to the quiet life of marriage in the Shire.

He gently but firmly declined each proposal, telling the hopeful families that he wasn't ready for marriage and preferred to focus on his travels and freedom. His polite refusals were taken in stride, though many in the Shire continued to hope that one day, Jimmy would change his mind.

As time passed, Sirius grew more comfortable in his hobbit guise. His nightly trips to Bree allowed him to let off steam, while his days in the Shire were spent perfecting his magic and physical prowess. The ritual he had performed had enhanced his strength and magic to levels beyond what he had ever experienced before. By the time Gandalf returned to Bree and made his way through the Shire again, Sirius had regained full control over his abilities. There was no longer any fear of losing control or inadvertently revealing his true identity.

One afternoon, Sirius received an unexpected visitor. Gandalf the Grey arrived at his door, knocking with the same calm authority that had made Sirius wary of him in the first place. Jimmy Potter, ever the gracious hobbit, welcomed him inside.

Gandalf settled into one of the oversized chairs in Jimmy’s cozy hobbit hole. The wizard's keen eyes swept over the room, taking in the little details that made the place feel so distinctly hobbit-like. For a moment, Sirius felt a surge of anxiety, but he quickly buried it. He had played his part too well for too long to slip up now.

The conversation between them started out as casual small talk, with Gandalf asking about the Shire and its inhabitants. Sirius, knowing that Gandalf had a sharp mind, steered the conversation towards the larger world outside the Shire. He began asking questions about the places Gandalf had visited and the events happening in the far reaches of Middle-Earth.

Gandalf smiled warmly, chuckling as he answered. "Ah, Jimmy, you're full of curiosity. It’s no wonder the hobbits here think you’re something special. A hobbit so interested in the world beyond the Shire is a rare thing indeed."

Sirius played his role perfectly, nodding and smiling as he leaned into the curious hobbit persona. "I can't help myself," he said with a twinkle in his eye. "I've always wanted to know what’s happening now, beyond the hills. And besides, the Shire is peaceful, but the world is full of wonders, is it not?"

Gandalf nodded thoughtfully, his eyes studying Sirius as if he could see something beneath the surface. But after a few moments, he laughed again. "You’re no threat to the Shire, Jimmy Potter. You’re just a hobbit with a restless heart, it seems."

Sirius felt an immense wave of relief wash over him. Gandalf, despite his sharp intellect and keen awareness, had found no reason to suspect him of anything other than being an eccentric, adventurous hobbit. The wizard’s laugh was the reassurance Sirius needed—he was safe. For now, at least.

The conversation eventually drifted to other topics, and they spoke of recent events in Middle-Earth—the rise of dark forces in the East, rumors of trouble brewing in Mordor, and the unsettling whispers of a growing shadow. Sirius, careful not to reveal too much, listened intently, nodding along as Gandalf spoke.

When the conversation came to an end, Gandalf rose from his chair, his face a mask of calm but with the air of someone who carried heavy burdens. "Take care, Jimmy," he said as he left. "The world is changing, even here in the Shire. We may have peace for now, but it will not last forever."

Sirius nodded, watching as Gandalf departed from his hobbit hole, his figure disappearing down the path. He closed the door and let out a sigh. The danger had passed—for now—but he knew better than to relax too much. Dark times were coming, and even in his peaceful life as Jimmy Potter, Sirius Black would need to stay vigilant.

Jimmy Potter's farmland was the talk of the Shire. Unlike most hobbits who grew the same crops year after year, Jimmy's small plot of land was a vibrant patchwork of fruits, grains, vegetables, and even livestock. His chicken coop was always full, his pigs healthy and strong, and the orchard that surrounded his home was filled with a dazzling variety of fruit trees. From apples to peaches, berries to melons, there wasn’t a season that went by without something growing on Jimmy Potter's farm.

But what truly made Jimmy’s farm stand out was the sheer variety. He had crops that most hobbits had never even heard of, let alone seen growing in the Shire. Some whispered that he must have traveled to far-off lands to gather the seeds for these plants—there were rumors of him visiting regions beyond the Shire, places deep in the wilds of Middle-Earth, and coming back with strange fruits and vegetables. It wasn’t unusual for hobbits to visit Jimmy’s farm just to marvel at the sight of it. Tall, exotic trees with odd shapes, and rows of vegetables and herbs that gave off unfamiliar scents. Even the farm animals seemed somehow different—healthier, stronger, more vibrant.

The other hobbits were fascinated by Jimmy's unconventional methods. Instead of planting just one type of crop, he mixed everything together, creating a sort of harmony between the plants and animals. Each part of the farm supported the other. The chickens roamed freely between the rows of vegetables, picking out insects and fertilizing the soil, while the pigs rooted in the shaded orchards, turning the earth and aerating the soil for the trees. The diversity of plants also meant that Jimmy’s harvest was never sparse. Every season brought in a bountiful crop, and while other hobbits might have struggled with a poor yield now and then, Jimmy’s farm always seemed to thrive.

The farm’s bounty became a reason for Jimmy to host frequent feasts. He loved nothing more than inviting hobbits from all over to come and share in the fruits of his labor. His larder was always full, and the tables in his hobbit hole groaned under the weight of fresh fruits, roasted meats, and vegetables that tasted sweeter and more delicious than anything found in the local markets. Visitors would often leave with baskets full of fruits and seeds from Jimmy’s farm, eager to try growing them in their own gardens, though few could replicate his success.

Though many admired Jimmy’s generosity and the beauty of his farm, few knew the secret behind his success. Hidden deep within his hobbit hole, far from the prying eyes of curious hobbits, was his enchanted trunk. This trunk, larger on the inside than it appeared, acted as a vast storage space where time itself was frozen. Everything stored in it—whether it was a freshly picked apple or a side of pork—remained as fresh as the day it was harvested. While most of Jimmy's produce went to feasts and to his fellow hobbits, a significant portion of his crops was stored in the trunk, preserved for the long term.

Sirius, ever cautious and always planning for the future, knew that he might not stay in the Shire forever. Despite his deepening ties to the community and the peaceful life he had carved out for himself, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he would eventually have to move on. His near-immortality, a consequence of the powerful ritual he had performed, made time seem almost irrelevant. The aging process had reversed, and Sirius now looked as young as he had during his early days after graduation. He had no idea how long he would live or what the future held, but he was determined to be prepared.

By storing a portion of his crops and meats in the time-frozen trunk, he ensured that he would always have a supply of food, no matter where life took him. This gave him peace of mind—while other hobbits worried about bad harvests or harsh winters, Sirius knew he would never go hungry.

As he stood at the edge of his farm, looking out over the rolling hills and the patchwork of crops that stretched before him, Sirius felt a deep sense of satisfaction. His farm was a sanctuary, a place where he could truly be at peace. But the world beyond the Shire was changing, and despite the tranquility of his current life, Sirius knew that his journey wasn’t over. For now, he would continue to play the role of Jimmy Potter, the kind-hearted hobbit with the green thumb, but deep down, he was always prepared for whatever came next.

As Sirius lived out his days in the Shire, tending to his farm and blending into the peaceful life of a hobbit, his thoughts often turned not only to Middle-earth but to his old world—the world he had left behind. More than anything, he missed it. He missed the familiar streets of Diagon Alley, the grand halls of Hogwarts, and the sense of purpose he’d had when he fought for something greater than himself. And most of all, he missed his godson, Harry Potter.

In the quiet moments, when the Shire had fallen asleep and the only sounds were the rustling of the trees and the distant hooting of an owl, Sirius would find himself wondering about Harry. Was his godson still alive? Had he grown into the strong, brave man Sirius always knew he could be? Was Voldemort finally defeated? The questions tormented him in ways he couldn't quite shake off. The years had passed, and without any way of knowing what had happened, the uncertainty gnawed at him.

He often imagined what Harry’s life might be like now. Had he found happiness? Was he married to a beautiful witch? Perhaps someone from Gryffindor, or maybe someone Sirius hadn’t known? Did Harry have a family of his own? Sirius liked to picture him with children, laughing and playing in a house full of warmth and love. And more than once, Sirius allowed himself to dream that Harry had named a child after him—a little Sirius, running around with wild black hair and mischievous eyes. The thought made him smile, but it also made his heart ache.

And then there was Remus. Sirius remembered his old friend with fondness, their time together at Hogwarts and afterward, their bond with James, and their shared struggles. The war had taken so much from all of them, but Remus had always been there, a steady presence even in the darkest of times. Was Remus still alive? Sirius hoped so. He often thought of the last time they had fought side by side, and the memory brought a pang of regret. He hadn’t said a proper goodbye to Remus before everything went wrong, and that was something he would always carry with him.

As much as he tried to focus on his new life, Sirius could never fully escape the weight of his old one. The past was always there, just beneath the surface, pulling at him with memories of a world that felt both distant and achingly familiar. It was as though a part of him had never really left that world, and no matter how hard he tried to be Jimmy Potter the hobbit, he would always be Sirius Black—a wizard, a godfather, and a man who had left behind unfinished business.

He also remembered Dale fondly. Dale was one of the first places his thoughts returned to. He had lived there for a time, in the shadow of the Lonely Mountain, before his wandering had taken him elsewhere. He often wondered what had become of the city. Was it still prospering, its market stalls filled with goods from all over Middle-earth? Did the smell of fresh bread and the hum of traders' voices still fill the air? Was it still protected by its rich alliances, or had some unseen threat come to challenge its peace? And did anyone there still remember him—the enigmatic traveler who had once lived among them, learning their ways and working alongside them?

He especially thought of the villagers who had sheltered him when he needed it most. The blacksmith who had taught him the art of metalworking still lingered in his memory. The forge's heat, the weight of the hammer in his hand, and the rhythmic pounding of metal had been some of the most calming moments in his life. He had learned much from that blacksmith, not just about metal, but about life. Sirius couldn’t help but wonder if the old man was still alive, still tending to his forge, or if time had claimed him.

And then there was Legolas. Sirius couldn't think about the elves without a pang of guilt. His daring escape from the Woodland Realm had caused quite the stir, and he knew that Legolas hadn’t forgiven him for it. There had been tension between them ever since. Legolas had seen Sirius as a friend, but Sirius had been driven by his own need for freedom. He’d broken their trust and fled, leaving behind confusion and anger. He often wondered if Legolas still thought of him, if their friendship was forever lost, or if time had softened the elf’s heart. As for Thranduil, the Elvenking, Sirius had no illusions—Thranduil had never taken kindly to Sirius, even before the escape. There was no doubt in his mind that the king's anger had only deepened since that day.

The weight of these memories was heavy, and it only made Sirius miss the outside world more. The adventurous spirit he had buried deep within him began to stir, gnawing at his peaceful existence. He missed the thrill of the unknown, the excitement of a new journey, and the satisfaction of overcoming challenges. While his farm in the Shire brought him joy, it lacked the sense of danger and discovery that had once defined his life.


But it wasn’t just nostalgia that gnawed at him. There was something more—a feeling in his bones, deep and unshakable. It was as if he could sense that something was coming, something big, something that would change everything. The wind had a different bite to it lately, and even the calmest days felt charged with an unseen energy. Sirius had always been attuned to the subtle shifts in the world, and now he couldn’t ignore the sense of foreboding that lingered just beneath the surface.

He had no idea what it could be. Perhaps it was just the restlessness of his own soul, yearning for the life he had once known. Or maybe it was something more—a warning of events unfolding beyond the Shire that would soon reach even the quietest corners of Middle-earth.

Whatever it was, Sirius knew that his time in the Shire might not last forever. The life he had built for himself here, as Jimmy Potter the hobbit, was peaceful and comfortable, but it wasn’t who he truly was. He could play the role for a while, but sooner or later, the call of adventure would become too strong to ignore. He could feel it, like a storm building on the horizon, waiting to sweep him up once again.

For now, he would continue to tend to his farm, to host his feasts, and to live as a hobbit. But his mind was already preparing for the day when he would have to leave it all behind and venture back into the world, where his past and his future would collide in ways he could not yet imagine.