Ancient Magician (Severus x Reader)

Chapter 1:Strange Dream

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 💫 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 1:𝑆𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑒 𝑑𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑚💫

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Authors pov.

"No, Y/n, you can't do this! You can't just throw your life away—we won't let you!" James's voice cracked, desperate and furious. His glasses were askew, dark hair a tousled mess as always, but his blue eyes—usually mischievous—were brimming with fear.

I turned to face him and Lily, trying to steady my trembling breath. "James, listen to me. Lily, you too. You need to go. Now. You have to protect Harry. You're his parents, he needs you alive. Let me do this."

"Stop—please, just stop this madness, Y/n Esperance Grimblehawk!" Lily's voice rang out, thick with tears and rage. Her beautiful red hair framed her face, and those familiar green eyes—eyes Harry would inherit—were wide and pleading. "Don't be a hero. We need you too."

I smiled at them both, a soft, sad thing that didn't quite reach my eyes. "It's not heroism, Lils. It's... the only thing that makes sense anymore." My voice wavered, but I held strong. "Tell Sirius, Moony, Peter... and Sev. Tell them I'm sorry I couldn't say goodbye. And that I love them, with everything I've got."

Before they could argue, the door burst open with a thunderous crack. Death Eaters flooded the room, their robes billowing like black smoke, masks gleaming under the dim light—those serpent-like slits where eyes should be. They moved like shadows, cruel and determined.

And then... he entered.

My breath caught.

Tom.

Voldemort.

I used to know him—back when he still had something resembling a soul. He'd been a brilliant student once, curious and clever. And now... now he was a monster.

"Y/n," he said with a voice that almost sounded human—almost. "I didn't want this. Truly. But some sacrifices are necessary."

My blood turned to ice, yet I stepped forward. "Tom, don't do this," I whispered, shaking my head. "You know this isn't who you were meant to be. I saw your light once, even if no one else did. Please, don't go through with this."

His expression faltered, just for a second. Something—regret, maybe—flashed in his dark eyes. "There's no turning back now."

I knew then that reasoning with him was useless. There was no boy left behind that cold stare. Only Lord Voldemort.

I felt it then, the weight of what I was about to do. A choice. To let him destroy the people I loved, or to stand in the way—one last time.

So I stood tall and said with every ounce of strength I had, "Then you'll have to go through me first. I won't let you hurt them."

There was no hesitation in his wand. No flicker of mercy.

"Avada Kedavra."

And then, nothing.

___________________________________________________________________

When I opened my eyes, everything was hazy.

Tears clung to my cheeks, though I wasn't sure why. I sat up slowly, wincing. The room I was in was small, quiet. Just a plain bed, a creaky dresser in the corner, and sunlight pouring through a thin curtain. I didn't recognize any of it.

And worse—I didn't recognize myself.

There were flashes—disconnected fragments—faces that felt like ghosts. A green-eyed woman. A man with unruly hair. A child's cry. A scream. And him... with cold, soulless eyes.

My head throbbed.

I was alone. Until the door creaked open.

A soft-spoken woman entered with a gentle smile. She said she was a caretaker. That someone had found me wandering the streets, dazed and bleeding. She said I'd been brought here—to this orphanage—because no one knew who I was. And I couldn't tell them, because... I didn't know either.

In the days that followed, I settled in slowly. The other children were kind. Some were loud, some curious. A few tried to befriend me, and I let them. But every night I'd wake in a cold sweat, heart racing from dreams I couldn't explain. Faces I didn't know. A name I could never forget.

Tom.

One afternoon, the caretaker asked me to come downstairs. A man had come to see me. She didn't say who, only that he seemed to know me.

As I walked into the parlor, my gaze landed on a tall, slender man with a long silver beard and deep, piercing eyes. He smiled, rising slowly to greet me. "Ah, Miss Grimblehawk. We finally meet again."

"Who are you?" I asked cautiously, shrinking slightly under his gaze.

"My name is Albus Dumbledore. I'm the headmaster of a school called Hogwarts." His voice was kind, reassuring, but my guard didn't lower.

"Hogwarts?" I echoed. "You think I'm supposed to believe you? I don't even know who I am."

He studied me, then gently placed a hand on my shoulder. "You've been having dreams, haven't you? Of a man named Tom Riddle?"

My throat tightened. "Yes. How do you know?"

"Because I've known him too," he said solemnly. "Tom Riddle—now known as Voldemort—is a very powerful and dangerous wizard. And you... Y/n... you tried to stop him once."

I stared at him, every word feeling too heavy to hold. "I tried to stop him? Me? But I don't even remember—"

He nodded. "Your memories were lost in the aftermath of that night. You paid a terrible price for your bravery. But you're safe now. And you're not alone."

I wanted to believe him. I really did.

"There's something else," I said, my voice low. "This scar—" I pointed to my forehead, "—what is it? Why do I have it?"

Dumbledore hesitated. His smile faded slightly, replaced by something somber. "In time, Y/n. When you're ready. There are truths best left to age."

I frowned, unsatisfied but exhausted.

"What about Hogwarts?" I asked instead, trying to change the subject.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled as he sat down and folded his hands. "Ah, yes. Hogwarts. Founded over a thousand years ago by four brilliant witches and wizards—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each built the school on values they held dear—bravery, loyalty, intelligence, and ambition."

He spoke with such reverence that for a moment, I could picture it. Grand halls, enchanted ceilings, young witches and wizards learning to wield magic. It felt like something out of a dream. Or maybe... a memory.

"Hogwarts isn't just a school," he continued. "It's a place to learn, to grow, and to find where you belong. It's a home, Y/n. If you'll let it be."

The words tugged at something in my chest.

He rose to leave. "In a few days, you'll be picked up by someone very special. A friend of mine, Rubeus Hagrid. He'll take you to Diagon Alley to gather your supplies."

I just nodded, a strange mixture of anxiety and wonder rising in me.

I didn't know who I used to be. But maybe—just maybe—I'd find out who I could become.