Cronos's Tower Office — Sept 2, Late Afternoon
The door clicked shut behind him with a soft whisper of finality. Cronos moved across his study with slow precision.
He set the empty hourglass down on his desk, beside his worn leather-bound notebook. The hourglass gave a faint, metallic hum as it touched the oak surface—still no sand inside. Still no movement.
He sat.
Uncapping his quill, he flipped to a blank page marked in the upper corner:
Timeline 01-A — Sept 2
He began to write, the ink flowing easily.
First class complete. No anomaly detected.
Granger continues to demonstrate above-average comprehension. Potter observant, but uncertain.
Hourglass inert.
Slight atmospheric disturbance after demonstration — likely natural.
He paused.
Flipping back a few pages, he scanned his previous entries. Everything looked familiar—until he stopped at the Sept 1 log. One word caught his eye. Not the content, but the ink itself.
Stabilized.
It shimmered ever so slightly, as if written more recently than the rest of the line.
Cronos narrowed his eyes, tapped the word with his quill, then jotted in the margin:
Ink inconsistency — possible overwrite? Unconfirmed. Monitor.
He leaned back in his chair, listening to the quiet hum of the tower.
No ticking. No movement. Just stillness.
Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned a page and wrote:
Prepare lesson two: Temporal Signatures and Localized Echoes.
He let the ink dry, then shut the notebook with care.
The hourglass remained unchanged, but for just a second—barely perceptible—it vibrated.
Cronos didn't see it.
He'd already turned away.
POV: Harry
The dungeon classroom felt colder than usual, shadows lurking in every corner. Harry slid into a bench beside Ron, glancing nervously at Hermione, who was already scribbling notes with fierce concentration.
The door creaked open, and Snape entered like a dark storm rolling in. His eyes scanned the room, sharp and unforgiving.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving in this class," he intoned. "Potion-making requires precision and patience."
His gaze landed on Harry.
"I can teach you to bottle fame, brew glory, and even stopper death — if you have the wit to learn."
He paused, voice dropping. "Potter. What would be the result of adding powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"
Harry swallowed. "I—I don't know, sir."
"Wrong." Snape's voice was ice. "Ten points from Gryffindor."
A chorus of gasps echoed through the room.
Harry's cheeks burned.
Snape smirked. "Perhaps you'd be more comfortable in Professor Greywood's classroom. He seems fond of lofty theories. Here, we deal with results."
Hermione's quill didn't stop moving, but her jaw clenched tightly.
The lesson dragged on, every mistake from Harry drawing a sharp rebuke and a point lost. By the end, his cauldron was little more than tepid water.
Ron leaned over. "Well, at least you're consistent."
Harry didn't answer. He just hoped the next class would go better.
The Hogwarts courtyard was alive with nervous energy as students lined up, brooms in hand. Madam Hooch's sharp gaze swept over the crowd.
Harry stood beside Ron, glancing at Draco Malfoy striding by with a confident smirk.
"Watch closely, Potter," Draco said, voice laced with challenge.
Harry ignored him, focusing on Madam Hooch's instructions. He felt the familiar thrill as he mounted his broom.
Draco's movements were unnervingly precise—almost too precise. Harry caught a brief shimmer around Draco's wand tip, like a subtle hesitation in time itself, but he dismissed it.
Then Neville's grip faltered. He panicked, his broom lurching wildly before he plummeted toward the ground.
For a split second, time seemed to slow. Neville's fall shifted just enough to soften the impact.
He crashed hard but was conscious, wincing as Madam Hooch hurried over.
From his tower window, Cronos watched silently, adjusting the dial on his monocle.
"Minor temporal correction," he murmured, jotting in his diary, "Neville's injury mitigated. No timeline ripple detected."
Harry shook off the moment and faced Draco again, who was already boasting loudly about his flying skills.
The Hogwarts courtyard was alive with nervous energy as students lined up, brooms in hand. Madam Hooch's sharp gaze swept over the crowd.
Harry stood beside Ron, glancing at Draco Malfoy striding by with a confident smirk.
"Watch closely, Potter," Draco said, voice laced with challenge.
Harry ignored him, focusing on Madam Hooch's instructions. He felt the familiar thrill as he mounted his broom.
Draco's movements were unnervingly precise—almost too precise. Harry caught a brief shimmer around Draco's wand tip, like a subtle hesitation in time itself, but he dismissed it.
Then Neville's grip faltered. He panicked, his broom lurching wildly before he plummeted toward the ground.
For a split second, time seemed to slow. Neville's fall shifted just enough to soften the impact.
He crashed hard but was conscious, wincing as Madam Hooch hurried over.
From his tower window, Cronos watched silently, adjusting the dial on his monocle.
"Minor temporal correction," he murmured, jotting in his diary, "Neville's injury mitigated. No timeline ripple detected."
Harry shook off the moment and faced Draco again, who was already boasting loudly about his flying skills.
in the Great Hall
The Great Hall buzzed with noise—students chatting, plates clattering, laughter echoing off the stone walls.
Cronos sat near the Ravenclaw table, his silver-gray cloak folded neatly beside him.He wore his silver monocle.
Professor McGonagall approached, offering a polite smile.
"Professor Greywood," she greeted, taking the seat across from him. "How's the term starting out?"
"Better than I expected," Cronos replied. "The students are... intriguing."
Just then, Professor Flitwick appeared, small and energetic as ever, a bright grin on his face.
"Ah, Cronos! Still keeping those young minds sharp, I see," Flitwick said with a wink. "Ravenclaw's finest are thrilled about your Temporal Theories class. You always did have a knack for the complicated."
Cronos smiled warmly. "Professor Flitwick. Still the same cheerful spark, I see."
Flitwick chuckled. "And you still hiding that mischievous glint beneath all that seriousness."
McGonagall rolled her eyes but smiled softly.
The clatter and chatter of the Great Hall swirled around them as Hermione practically bounced in her seat between Harry and Ron.
"I can't believe Professor Greywood's class started already!" she said, eyes sparkling. "Temporal Theories! It's so advanced — and so fascinating. He talked about time like it's this… living thing, not just some clock you look at."
Harry glanced at her, intrigued but cautious. "Yeah, he did some weird potion trick… made the liquid flow backwards."
Ron frowned. "Sounds dangerous. Time magic? Sounds like something Dumbledore warned about."
Hermione waved a hand. "That's what makes it so amazing! It's not just magic, it's like understanding the whole fabric of reality. I mean, imagine what we could do if we really understood time."
Ron shook his head, still looking unsure. "I don't know, Hermione. Sounds like a headache waiting to happen."
Hermione grinned. "Oh, come on! You should've seen the way he moved — so calm, so sure of himself. And his monocle! It actually glowed sometimes."
Harry chuckled. "Yeah, I noticed that too. Like he was watching something no one else could see."
Hermione leaned closer. "I think this class is going to change everything. We have to be ready for it — and maybe even learn a thing or two."
Ron sighed but smiled. "Well, if you're excited, that's what matters."
The three friends exchanged glances, the buzz of the Great Hall fading as their thoughts settled on the mysterious new professor and the strange, compelling magic he was bringing to Hogwarts.
Dumbledore's Office
The warm glow of the fire filled Dumbledore's office, casting flickering shadows across shelves stacked with curious artifacts and books. The scent of lemon drops lingered faintly in the air.
Cronos Greywood stepped inside and paused. Dumbledore smiled and gestured toward a comfortable chair.
"Please, sit," Dumbledore said kindly, reaching into a crystal jar and offering Cronos a lemon drop. "One of many, I'm afraid. They seem to multiply on their own."
Cronos accepted the candy with a small smile and took a seat, folding his cloak neatly beside him.
"How is the new class settling in?" Dumbledore asked, settling behind his desk.
"Better than I anticipated," Cronos replied. "The students are curious, though time magic is a heavy subject. I'm treading carefully."
Dumbledore nodded. "Wise. It's a difficult balance, giving them enough to inspire without overwhelming."
Cronos took a moment, then said, "I'm still uncertain how much of time's truth they're ready for."
A soft chuckle escaped Dumbledore. "Patience, Cronos. You have a gift for knowing when to reveal—and when to hold back."
After a pause, Dumbledore's gaze sharpened slightly. "There is one student who will require more attention than the rest."
Cronos raised an eyebrow. "Who might that be?"
Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "Harry Potter. The boy who, as you know, carries a burden unlike any other. His path will be shaped in part by what he learns with you."
Cronos leaned forward slightly, a flicker of concern crossing his face. "I worry about placing that burden on him. Time magic… it's not something to wield lightly, especially not by a child."
Dumbledore's smile softened. "Nor would I ask you to teach recklessly. But if it's possible—if you can—protect him, Cronos. More than the usual guards or spells. Protect him in ways others cannot."
Cronos nodded slowly, the weight of the request settling over him.
"Then I will watch closely. And teach carefully."
Dumbledore's eyes gleamed with quiet approval. "I trust you will. Hogwarts—and Harry—are fortunate to have you."