The Ravenclaw common room was quiet—too quiet for most first-years, but the 11 years-old Cronos Greywood liked it that way. The midnight-blue carpet muffled every sound, and the tall arched windows offered only moonlight and silence.
He sat cross-legged on the floor near the fire, a thick book spread open in front of him:Magical Paradoxes and Theoretical Reversals, Vol. II.
The binding was stiff, its pages yellowed and dense with ink. The kind of book that wasn't supposed to leave the Restricted Section.
He had... borrowed it. Quietly. He hadn't even taken it for class—he just wanted to know. To understand.
The rest of the dorm had gone to bed hours ago. Cronos had stayed, as he often did, too curious to sleep.
He looked up at the carved bronze eagle knocker on the common room door. The enchanted voice had already greeted him once that evening with a riddle, but something tugged at him.
He stood and stepped toward it.
The knocker's eyes glowed faintly as it sensed motion.
Cronos didn't wait for a riddle. He asked his own instead.
"Can time be reversed without consequence?"
A pause.
A long one.
The knocker tilted slightly, as if confused. No answer came.
Its silence was louder than any reply.
Cronos stood there for a moment longer, the fire behind him crackling softly.
Then he turned and sat back down, pulling out a thin leather notebook. The first entry was dated only a week ago—his first week at Hogwarts.
He wrote in tiny, sharp letters:
"If even magic avoids the question, maybe the answer is dangerous."
The same notebook—older now, its leather worn and corners bent—lay open on a tidy desk.
Cronos, taller, older, and cloaked in silence, sat beside it in his tower office, finishing the thought he'd started years ago.
"Or maybe it's the question itself that bends time around it."
He tapped the page with his quill, then slowly closed the cover.
The day was about to begin.
Harry's POV
"The Second Lesson"
Harry wasn't sure what to expect from Professor Greywood's second class.
After the first one — where time literally reversed and a potion poured itself back into a vial — he thought maybe Cronos would keep things toned down. But judging by the faint buzz in the air as they filed into the classroom, he wasn't so sure.
Hermione had arrived ten minutes early again, scribbling notes before Cronos even entered. Ron was less enthusiastic, muttering, "I hope this one doesn't end with a nosebleed or something."
The room was just as strange as before: dim lighting, wide semicircle of desks, the same hourglass on the front table — still eerily empty.
But today, something new sat beside it: a small, silver disk about the size of a Galleon, floating an inch above the wood and spinning slowly in the air.
Cronos entered without a sound, robes flowing, monocle already in place. His eyes swept across them like he was scanning for echoes.
Without a word, he raised his hand, and the spinning disk stopped.
"The second law of magical chronology," Cronos said, "states that all things magical leave a shadow on time—even thoughts."
He tapped the silver disk with his wand.
It pulsed with light, then spoke in a calm, clear voice:"Ten-oh-seven, Hogwarts local."
A murmur ran through the class.
"It's called a Temporal Pinch," Cronos explained. "A small charm I've created. It tugs on the closest stable time signature in an area and reads it aloud. Useful for dueling, travel, or when your watch has melted due to a minor paradox."
Several students laughed nervously.
Hermione's hand shot up.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Can we try it?"
Cronos gave a faint smile. "I was hoping you'd ask."
He handed out small enchanted pebbles—dull-looking but lightly humming with magical tension.
"The charm is Horologio," he instructed. "Intent is everything. Focus not on the time itself—but the feeling of the moment. What time feels like."
Ron groaned. "Why can't he just say 'point and shout' like a normal professor?"
Harry focused.
"Horologio," he whispered, wand pointed at the pebble.
Nothing happened.
Hermione's stone, however, glowed faintly and whispered, "Ten-oh-nine and twenty seconds."
Cronos nodded. "Very good."
Neville's pebble said, "Wednesday."
Harry stifled a laugh.
Cronos walked among them, adjusting hand positions, murmuring soft corrections. He didn't scold. Just guided.
When he passed Harry, he paused briefly.
"You're close," Cronos murmured. "But your mind is looking ahead. Focus here. Now."
Harry frowned and tried again.
"Horologio."
The stone twitched in his palm… and whispered, just barely:"Ten…"before fading out.
But Harry smiled. It had almost worked.
A few more students tried the spell. Some stones flickered; others remained stubbornly silent. Ron's whispered "Horologio" got nothing but a faint puff of smoke, which he quickly tried to hide with his sleeve.
Then, from the far right side of the room, Draco Malfoy raised his hand without waiting to be called on.
"Professor," he said, voice crisp, "with all due respect… why bother? Couldn't we just use a magical pocket watch? Or, Merlin forbid, a regular one?"
A few students chuckled.
Cronos didn't answer right away. He studied Malfoy for a moment, unreadable behind the shimmer of his monocle.
Then he walked slowly to the center of the room and gestured toward the hourglass.
"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy," he said quietly, "can a pocket watch detect a moment that's been tampered with? Can it tell you whether this minute is the first time you've lived it—or the third?"
Malfoy hesitated. "…No."
"Correct," Cronos said. "Time magic isn't about knowing what hour it is. It's about feeling when the hour is wrong. About detecting when something has shifted—when reality has cheated."
He let the silence settle.
"In the field, a charm like this might tell you that the room you just walked into is five minutes older than it should be. Or that the person standing in front of you… shouldn't be there yet."
Draco leaned back slightly, subdued but thoughtful now.
Cronos gave a slow nod, as if satisfied with the shift in tone. "Time magic is rarely about convenience. It's about awareness."
Hermione raised her hand again, eyes bright with curiosity. "Sir—you mentioned the second law of magical chronology. What's the first?"
Cronos smiled faintly, the kind of smile that hinted at too many thoughts.
"The first law," he said, pacing slowly toward the hourglass, "is simple."
He turned the empty hourglass over. Still no sand.
"Time resists."
The room fell quiet.
"That's why most time spells fail. Or worse—succeed poorly. Time pushes back. It has… structure. And memory."
The bell rang faintly through the castle walls, signaling the end of the period.
"Dismissed," Cronos said, lifting the hourglass gently into his coat. "And remember—try not to lose track of yourselves."
Cronos's POV
The classroom emptied one ripple at a time.
Cronos remained standing, eyes fixed on the door long after the last student had left. A faint hum still clung to the air—the kind that always followed a group casting unstable temporal spells, even tiny ones.
He moved to his desk and laid the hourglass down gently. It was still empty, but warm. That was new.
He opened his journal and wrote without hesitation:
Timeline A2 – Sept 6• Minor field test successful• Granger advancing rapidly• Potter sensitive, potential instability• Malfoy... curious. Noted.• Hourglass registered faint residual heat post-class — anomaly? Monitor.
He paused before signing the entry.
Then added, almost as an afterthought:
• No divergence yet. Still aligned.
Cronos closed the journal, adjusted the monocle at his temple, and let out a long, silent breath.
He didn't trust quiet days.
The late afternoon light filtered softly through the trees as Cronos approached Hagrid's hut, the scent of damp earth and wild herbs filling the air.
The door creaked open just as he reached the porch.
"Professor Greywood!" Hagrid's warm voice greeted him. "Good to see yeh."
Before Cronos could reply, a burst of chatter came from inside.
"Professor Greywood!" Hermione's voice rang out cheerfully.
Ron stumbled out, brushing dirt off his robes, and Harry followed, looking curious but cautious.
Hagrid grinned. "The lot of 'em were just talkin' 'bout some of the forest plants and creatures."
Cronos gave a small nod toward the trio. "Hello all."
Hermione beamed. "We were just practicing some herbology with Hagrid. It's amazing how many magical things grow just beyond the castle."
Ron rolled his eyes but smiled. "Yeah, like the stuff that nearly bit me."
Harry glanced at Cronos with interest but said nothing.
Cronos's eyes flicked to the edge of the forest. "The forest holds many secrets. Sometimes a quiet walk helps clear the mind."
Hagrid chuckled, "Aye, and sometimes it gets yeh in trouble if yer not careful."
The group shared a brief laugh, the late sun casting long shadows as the forest whispered nearby.
Cronos gave a nod. "I'll be heading further in soon."
Hermione's eyes sparkled. "Be careful, Professor."
With a slight smile, Cronos turned and stepped toward the trees, his cloak blending with the dusk.
The dense canopy above swallowed the last golden rays as Cronos stepped deeper into the Forbidden Forest. The air grew cooler, thick with ancient magic and secrets few dared seek.
He was searching for the Chrono Bloom, a rare and delicate flower whispered about in old texts—known to grow only where time itself stutters. Its petals shimmered between bloom and bud, caught in a fragile loop. Legend said it could stabilize moments fractured by temporal disturbances.
The school grounds had recently been tinged with faint anomalies: clocks slowing, shadows lingering too long. If left unchecked, such fractures might grow — unraveling moments and memories alike.
Near twisted roots, Cronos spotted it — the Chrono Bloom, pulsing softly like a heartbeat caught out of sync.
As he knelt to gather it, the forest seemed to shift.
From the mist emerged a wolf-like beast, twisted by unstable time — its form blurred, flickering between shapes, limbs stretching and shrinking erratically. Its eyes glowed faint blue, wild and unfocused.
The beast snarled and lunged, the air thick with temporal distortion.
Cronos's hand rose, the silver ring on his finger gleaming faintly.
He whispered in a calm, ancient tongue,"Tempus frena."
A pulse radiated from the ring, thickening the air and slowing the creature's erratic movements.
Its strike stretched and warped, but Cronos moved with grace, undeterred.
He traced a slow arc through the air, fingers weaving invisible runes."Vinculum tardus."
Silvery threads spilled from the ring, wrapping the beast's limbs and dampening its chaotic energy.
The creature thrashed, growling distorted echoes, but Cronos's steady will held firm.
Finally, with a decisive flick, he whispered,"Nexum finis."
The creature shimmered, then dissolved into soft motes of blue light, fading harmlessly.
Cronos rose, clutching the Chrono Bloom petals carefully.
"These fractures," he murmured, "they cannot be ignored."
He turned, slipping silently back into the forest's shadowed depths as twilight fell.