Harry Potter: The Magnus Riddle story

The Awakening of Magnus II

Severus Snape's Point of View

Severus was unsettled. It was rare for anything to shake his carefully maintained composure, but seeing Magnus Riddle lying unconscious in the hospital wing was something he couldn't ignore.

During his own years as a student at Hogwarts, the name Magnus Riddle had been more than a legend—it was a symbol. Magnus was the embodiment of what a true Slytherin should be: powerful, ambitious, strategic, yet honorable in his own way. He was the kind of figure who inspired admiration, even from the bitterest of rivals. Back then, hearing Magnus' name was akin to hearing about a myth—a near-divine figure in Slytherin's storied history.

And now, standing face-to-face with him, Snape saw none of that. What he saw instead deeply unsettled him: James Potter's face.

The irony was almost cruel. Magnus, clad in Slytherin's green and silver, bore the unmistakable visage of the man Severus had hated all his life. The resemblance was like an open wound, dragging up memories of every humiliation, every insult, and every painful moment that James Potter represented.

Severus felt a tightness in his throat as he stared at Magnus. But it wasn't just the physical similarity that unnerved him. There was something else, something he had never fully grasped until now. During his time at Hogwarts, he distinctly remembered how the mere mention of Magnus Riddle's name made James uncomfortable.

James Potter had always been arrogant and confident, ready to face any challenge with a smug grin. Yet every time Magnus Riddle's name came up—especially from professors or the portraits of former headmasters—James had grown tense. It was as though Magnus' name was a forbidden topic, a vulnerability that James tried to conceal.

At the time, Severus had assumed it was simply James' prejudice against Slytherin. After all, James believed no Slytherin could ever be honest or worthy of respect. But now, looking at Magnus, Severus began to suspect there had been more to it.

"Perhaps James' discomfort wasn't mere prejudice," Severus thought. "Perhaps it was personal... something tied to the Potter family itself."

The thought disturbed him. What had Magnus represented to James? And why had no one ever explained why his name seemed like a buried secret within the Potters' history?

As he stared at Magnus, Severus couldn't help but compare himself to James. He remembered how irritated James had always seemed when Magnus Riddle's name was brought up. At the time, Severus had written it off as James' ego, unwilling to acknowledge a Slytherin as a hero.

But now...

The physical resemblance between Magnus and James was undeniable. Severus knew the Riddle family had Muggle roots, but he couldn't help wondering if there was a secret involving the Potters and Magnus.

"Maybe James knew more than he ever let on…" Severus muttered, rubbing his temples.

And then, there was the shadow of Voldemort. The Riddle name carried weight—dangerous weight. Even if Magnus had been remembered as a hero, his connection to the name now synonymous with the Dark Lord would complicate things.

Severus let out a long sigh, arms crossed as he stood near the hospital wing's door. He didn't know what to feel. Magnus was a paradox: he bore the same name as the Dark Lord, yet he was celebrated; a Slytherin, yet respected; a familiar face, yet a stranger.

Dumbledore, as always, seemed to know more than he let on. The headmaster was speaking with McGonagall and the other professors, but Snape paid little attention. His mind was consumed by questions he knew no one would answer directly.

Finally, he turned and left, his mind racing as he walked the cold, winding corridors of Hogwarts. Severus hated mysteries, and Magnus Riddle was the very embodiment of one.

"Whether he wants to or not," Severus muttered, "Magnus Riddle will answer my questions. One way or another."

Magnus Riddle's Awakening

Magnus opened his eyes slowly, the bright light of the Hogwarts hospital wing momentarily blinding him. His blurred vision could only make out vague shapes and outlines. He recognized the soft colors of the walls and the faint medicinal smell of potions in the air. This place was familiar, yet distant.

The last time he had been here, Magnus recalled, was to visit Natsai Onai after she had been hit by the Cruciatus Curse. The memory made him shudder, but it also brought a faint warmth. Where were they now? Where were his friends?

He tried to sit up, but a wave of weakness swept over him. His arms trembled, unable to support him, and he collapsed back onto the soft mattress. That was when he heard brisk, purposeful footsteps, followed by a firm yet gentle voice.

"Please, don't strain yourself, Mr. Riddle. Your body isn't ready yet."

A professional-looking woman in white healer's robes approached. Her eyes were sharp, and she carried an air of maternal authority.

"I'm Poppy Pomfrey, the matron in charge of Hogwarts' hospital wing. You need rest."

The name "Poppy" struck Magnus like an arrow. He immediately thought of his sweet friend from Hufflepuff, Poppy Sweeting, and a fleeting smile crossed his face. But as he looked around, the absence of his friends became painfully clear. Where were Poppy, Natsai, and Sebastian? And Anne?

"Madam Pomfrey…" His voice was hoarse, barely audible. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Could you summon Professor Matilda Wesley?"

Pomfrey hesitated. Her eyes narrowed slightly as if processing what she'd just heard.

"Vice Headmistress Wesley?" she repeated, clearly puzzled. "Mr. Riddle, I—"

Pomfrey stopped herself, inhaling deeply.

"I'll call the headmaster. I think he'll be able to clarify things."

Magnus frowned. The headmaster? he thought. That made no sense. Why would the matron need to call Phineas Nigellus Black for something so simple?

Still confused, Magnus waited, his mind heavy and sluggish as he tried to piece together what was happening. Everything felt out of place. Everything felt wrong.

Moments later, an elderly man entered the hospital wing. He wore pale blue robes, his long silver beard reaching his waist. His eyes glimmered with kindness and wisdom, though there was also a faint sadness behind them.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Riddle. I am Albus Dumbledore, the headmaster of Hogwarts."

Magnus blinked, trying to process the man's words. Headmaster? He glanced around again, searching for an explanation.

"And Headmaster Black?" Magnus asked, his voice still weak but full of confusion. "And Professor Matilda Wesley? Where are they?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes for a moment, as if gathering strength. When he spoke, his voice was soft but weighed with gravity.

"I had intended to wait a little longer to tell you... but I see that would be futile. Mr. Riddle, I must ask you to remain calm."

Magnus narrowed his eyes, bracing himself.

"You have been asleep, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said gently, "for nearly one hundred years."

The truth was delivered without preamble. Magnus felt as though the ground had vanished beneath him. He looked at Dumbledore, then at Pomfrey, but their faces offered no comfort.

Magnus turned his gaze to the ceiling, his expression unreadable.

Dumbledore observed him carefully, concerned by the lack of reaction. He knew Magnus was grappling with something incomprehensible.

"Will you be all right?" Dumbledore asked softly.

Magnus remained silent for a long moment. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper:

"I will. It's just… there were so many things I still wanted to do."

Dumbledore nodded, respecting the silence that followed. Time, he knew, would be Magnus' only ally as he grappled with the weight of a century lost.

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