The castle halls buzzed softly with the usual chatter of students, but Harry's mind was occupied with something new—something unusual. As he walked toward the Great Hall with Hermione and Ron, the topic on everyone's lips was the newest addition to their schedule: Temporal & Spacial Theories.
"I still can't wrap my head around it," Ron said, glancing nervously at the notice board. "Time magic? Sounds like something from a fairy tale."
Hermione's eyes sparkled with excitement. "It's definitely not ordinary magic. Dumbledore must have found someone truly extraordinary to teach it. Imagine what kind of spells and theories they'll cover! Temporal loops, time branches, maybe even alternate realities."
Harry nodded slowly, feeling a mixture of curiosity and unease. "Do you think it's safe? I mean, messing with time sounds... dangerous."
Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "Exactly. That's why I expect the professor will be very careful. I overheard a couple of older students say the subject is highly restricted—only a handful of witches and wizards ever even dabble in time magic."
Ron snorted. "Well, I hope they don't turn us into frogs or something."
Harry chuckled, but inside, he wondered who this mysterious professor was—and what secrets they carried. As the three friends turned a corner, Harry's eyes caught a figure walking ahead, calm and composed. He felt an odd pull, as if this new teacher's presence was more important than anyone realized.
Cronos's POV
Far from the echoing voices of students and shifting staircases, Professor Cronos Greywood sat alone in the tower the castle had given him—or perhaps the one it had kept hidden until he arrived.
The room was steeped in stillness. Clocks adorned the walls, but none kept proper time. One ticked once every minute. Another ticked only when Cronos moved. A third had no hands at all.
He stared at the object lying on his desk: a silver-rimmed monocle, resting on a folded scrap of black cloth.
He didn't remember making it.But he remembered having it.
He had found it tucked inside a book that didn't exist yet, on a shelf that should have been empty. It whispered understanding to him the moment he touched it.
And yet... when he looked through it too long, it whispered other things, too.
He didn't trust it. Not fully. But he needed it.
He slid the monocle aside and opened his old notebook, its leather binding fraying from age—or misuse across time. The pages shifted faintly, reacting to his touch. Many were filled with notes from his early experiments, symbols, theories, and diagrams of potential paradoxes.
But tonight, he flipped to a page he hadn't written.
Not in this life.
Scrawled in sharp, uneven handwriting—his own, but… strained—were the words:
"If you begin seeing him again, seal the door. He is already watching."
Cronos stared at the ink. It shimmered slightly, like it wasn't fully fixed in the now.
He whispered, more to himself than anyone else,
"I don't even remember forgetting this."
For a long moment, he said nothing. Just listened to the faint ticking chaos around him.
Then, with deliberate calm, he reached for the hourglass on the shelf. It was old and empty—no sand, no time. Just a symbol. A message to the students: some things should not be measured.
He tucked the monocle into his coat, rolled up the scroll he'd prepared for the first lesson, and stood.The tower seemed to exhale behind him.
At the door, he paused.
"Not too much," he murmured, "just enough."
Then he stepped out—into the moment the world still believed was whole.
Hermione's POV
Hermione Granger arrived early. Of course she did.
The classroom was oddly quiet, not just empty—but muted. Her footsteps barely echoed as she stepped inside. The air felt... heavy. As if time hadn't quite caught up with itself yet.
The desks were arranged in a wide semicircle around a single table at the front. On it sat nothing but a worn scroll and an hourglass—clear, polished, but completely empty.
No sand. No ticking. Just stillness.
Hermione moved closer and squinted at the glass. It shimmered faintly, catching the candlelight in odd patterns—like reflections that didn't belong to this room.
Her wand felt heavier than usual. Even her ink, when she uncapped it to prepare her parchment, didn't flow quite right—it clung to the tip of her quill like it was resisting time.
Focus, she told herself. This is the rarest magic in the world. One of the few times you'll be ahead of the class. Don't waste it.
Other students trickled in, whispering nervously. No one spoke loudly.
Then the door opened—and silence fell.
Professor Cronos Greywood entered without ceremony. Tall, composed, his robes moving like water around him. His presence wasn't loud, but it demanded attention.
He walked to the front, not looking at anyone just yet. His left eye glinted with silver—the monocle. It didn't shine so much as shimmer, like moonlight caught in still water.
Hermione held her breath.
He placed one hand on the scroll, the other lightly beside the hourglass. And then he looked up.
"Time," he said softly, "is not a river you swim in. It is a storm you survive."
"Before we continue, allow me to introduce myself properly," Cronos said, his voice steady and calm.
"I am Professor Cronos Greywood, your instructor for Temporal and Spacial Theories—a subject unlike any other taught at Hogwarts."
He paused, eyes briefly flickering to the empty hourglass.
"This course will challenge everything you think you know about magic—and about reality itself."
He stepped closer to the students, voice dropping.
"Time magic is fragile. It is dangerous. It is not a tool to be wielded lightly, nor a power to be sought for personal gain."
His gaze swept across the room, meeting eyes with each student in turn.
"My lessons will not teach you to change the past or rewrite your fate. Instead, you will learn to recognize the moments when time itself is vulnerable—and how to protect those moments from breaking."
He let the words hang.
"Many will find this path difficult. Some will find it frightening. But if you are willing to walk it, then I welcome you."
Harry's POV
At first, Harry barely understood the words. Something about the way Cronos spoke—slow, deliberate, like each syllable had been measured a hundred times before being allowed to exist—made it feel like he was speaking to someone else entirely.
But then Harry blinked—and suddenly he felt it.
A strange, crawling sensation along his spine. The hairs on his arm stood up. The air felt thinner, tighter. His eyes flicked to the hourglass.
Still empty.
Why was that more unnerving than if it had been full?
Cronos moved with fluid precision. He picked up a small glass vial filled with violet liquid, held it between two fingers, then let it fall.
It hit the desk, rolled slightly, then spilled. The potion slid across the wood toward the edge.
Gasps echoed—Hermione sat forward, alert.
Cronos raised his hand, fingers slightly bent, and turned the silver ring on his index finger once.
Time buckled.
Harry didn't see it happen so much as feel it. A deep, aching tug in his chest. Like the moment before a sneeze, or a jump scare—but stretched and sour.
The liquid paused mid-spill—then reversed.
It poured back into the bottle. The vial stood again, upright and full. The desk dried itself.
Cronos exhaled, as though it cost him something.
"Reparo," he said, looking at the class, "would have fixed the bottle. But not the moment."
Harry stared. Everyone else seemed amazed—some even clapped softly—but he couldn't shake the sensation that something had just gone wrong. The room hadn't returned to normal. It had settled—like something above them had blinked and then chosen to keep watching.
Cronos turned slightly, the monocle glinting as he passed.
Just for a second, Harry saw something in the lens.
A shape. A figure.
A man—not Cronos, but like him.
Eyes deeper. Robes darker.
And smiling.
Then it was gone.
Cronos didn't react. He just returned to the desk, lifting the hourglass gently and placing it into his coat.
"Some things," he said, "must be undone. Others must be endured."
Hermione's hand went up, trembling slightly with excitement.
Cronos gave the faintest of nods.
"Yes, Miss Granger?"
"Professor, how exactly does time magic differ from other branches of magic? And why is it so dangerous?"
Cronos nodded thoughtfully, as if he'd been expecting the question all along.
"An excellent question, Miss Granger. Unlike most magic, which manipulates matter, energy, or even minds, time magic deals with the very fabric that holds all events in sequence. It is not simply about 'going back' or 'changing things.' It is about understanding the consequences of every moment, every choice, and the ripple they create."
He paused, letting the weight of his words settle.
"Because time is interconnected, a small change can cascade into vast, unpredictable outcomes. Worse still, some moments are fixed points—immutable, unchangeable—because their alteration could unravel reality itself."
His gaze sharpened.
"That is why time magic requires restraint and respect. Reckless use does not just risk failure—it risks breaking the flow of history, endangering everyone and everything."
Ron raised his hand hesitantly.
"So… can we use time magic to fix mistakes?"
Cronos's eyes darkened for a heartbeat.
"Not as you might imagine. Fixing mistakes often means facing difficult truths, not erasing them. Time magic can mend some wounds, but it cannot heal the past. It teaches acceptance as much as control."
Hermione scribbled notes furiously, her mind racing.
Harry sat back, feeling the strange weight in the room grow heavier. He glanced at the empty hourglass again.
This class was going to change everything.
Hermione's mind buzzed with questions, but she knew better than to overwhelm the professor right away.
Instead, she exchanged a quick glance with Ron and Harry. Ron looked uneasy, his usual bravado dampened by the seriousness of the subject. Harry, as always, was quiet but alert, sensing more beneath the surface than anyone dared speak aloud.
Cronos moved back to the desk and unrolled the worn scroll.
"This," he said, "is the syllabus for this term. We will begin with the fundamentals of temporal stability: recognizing disturbances, reading temporal signatures, and understanding fixed points."
He traced a finger down the parchment, where complex diagrams and cryptic symbols marked the margins.
"Each of you will be expected to practice controlled observation before any attempt at manipulation. Time is not a battlefield to conquer; it is a delicate web to preserve."
Hermione's hand shot up again, this time trembling with a mix of excitement and apprehension.
"Professor, if time magic is so dangerous, why teach it at all? Why take the risk?"
Cronos looked at her with something almost like approval.
"Because knowledge without understanding is blindness. To protect what is precious—our history, our future—you must first understand the forces that shape them."
He looked around the room, eyes lingering on each student.
"And because, sometimes, the worst dangers come from ignorance, not from power."
A whisper seemed to pass through the room, barely audible, like a shiver in the air.
The professor's calm remained steady, unshaken.
Harry shook his head, focusing back on the lesson.
This was only the beginning.
Cronos stepped forward, his gaze steady on the students.
"Now, I will demonstrate a simple exercise—one that requires precision and respect."
He raised his hand and produced a slender glass vial filled with a shimmering silver liquid. The room's candlelight danced in the swirling depths.
Without hesitation, he tilted the vial, letting a single drop fall onto the wooden desk.
The droplet struck the surface, spreading thin and beginning to evaporate. Then, with a subtle twist of his fingers, Cronos tapped the silver ring on his index finger once.
Time seemed to slow—the spreading drop paused, suspended in perfect stillness.
Slowly, it retracted, pulled back into the vial as if time itself were rewinding the moment.
A hush fell over the room.
Cronos's voice was soft but clear.
"This is the essence of temporal magic—pausing, rewinding, understanding moments without altering their permanence."
He paused, letting the weight of the demonstration settle.
"But even this simple act carries risks. Disturb time too much, and it may refuse to flow properly again."
Cronos's POV
Standing before the quiet, attentive faces, Cronos felt the familiar pull of the monocle beneath his coat. He resisted the urge to glance at it. The artifact was both a tool and a reminder—of the fragile threads he was tasked with guarding, and of the darker echoes lurking beyond his control.
Teaching these young minds was a delicate balance. To reveal too much risked drawing unwanted attention. To reveal too little was to doom them to ignorance.
His thoughts flickered briefly to the warning he'd written in his notebook, the one not yet meant to be fully understood.
"If you begin seeing him again, seal the door. He is already watching."
Cronos exhaled slowly, gathering himself.
Time was a storm. And today, he had taken the first step into it.
Cronos folded his hands neatly atop the desk.
"That will conclude today's lesson. Review your notes carefully. Tomorrow, we will begin to explore temporal signatures in the natural world."
He looked at the students, voice calm but firm.
"Remember—time magic demands patience, discipline, and above all, respect."
The classroom stirred. Hermione gathered her parchment eagerly; Ron exchanged a glance with Harry, less certain but visibly intrigued.