Harry's POV
The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement. Red and gold banners fluttered from the rafters, and every student seemed to be wearing something lion-themed.
Harry sat near the fire with Ron and Hermione, hands nervously twisting the hem of his jersey.
"Relax," Ron said, grinning. "You've flown better than half the team already."
Hermione, who had brought a book on Quidditch history "for context," added, "It's just house pride. Nothing too dangerous." She paused, glancing at Harry's nervous fidgeting. "I mean… unless you fly into a goalpost or something."
Harry laughed. A little.
He was excited — thrilled, actually. His first real match. The crowd, the speed, the air under his feet… he couldn't wait.
Hermione POV
Lee Jordan's voice boomed over the stadium, half-commentary, half-stand-up routine.
The match was fast and wild. Harry dove like lightning, his broom responding to every lean.
But then — it didn't.
The broom jolted. Twitched. Then bucked like a wild animal.
Hermione's heart stopped. She stood up in the stands, clutching the railing.
"Something's wrong."
Beside her, Ron squinted. "He's losing control."
Hermione scanned the stands — and froze.
Snape. His eyes locked on Harry. Lips moving. Muttering. A strange focus in his face.
"Snape's jinxing his broom!" she said, and before Ron could stop her, she bolted from the stands.
Cronos POV
From the high staff tier, Cronos watched it all — silently, calmly, yet with keen, heavy eyes.
Harry's broom jolted again. The wind twisted unnaturally.
Cronos lifted the monocle to his eye.
Magical threads shimmered in the air around the broom. Two distinct forces:
One violent, subtle, dark — a curse, anchored somewhere below.
One rigid, white-gold — a counter-spell, from the stands to the left. Snape.
He whispered to himself:
"Just like in the books…"
But something was different. The curse was older. More evolved.The timeline is bending.This wasn't just a curse. Voldemort was adapting faster.
Then he felt the ripple.
Hermione's interruption knocked Snape over.
The counter-curse wavered. The broom lurched again.
Cronos stood.
"Too soon for divergence," he muttered, eyes glowing faintly behind the glass.
He raised one gloved hand, silver ring flashing beneath the sleeve.
"Linea Temporis: Stabilum."
A silken thread of invisible time magic coiled around the broom.It didn't fix it. It anchored it. Restored its balance to a previous, stable state — as if the last five seconds hadn't happened at all.
Harry steadied.
The broom soared again, sleek and swift — and within moments, he caught the Snitch.
Gryffindor erupted in cheers.
But Cronos… just watched.
Harry found him outside the stadium. Quiet, thoughtful. Cloak brushing the grass like water.
"Professor Greywood!" Harry called, breathless. "Did you see that? My broom — it was like it went mad — then it just… stopped."
Cronos turned slowly, his face calm.
"I saw."
Harry hesitated. "Someone said Professor Snape was… you know… jinxing it."
Cronos raised a brow. "Was he?"
"I don't know," Harry admitted. "But then everything snapped back to normal. It felt weird. Like… like the air changed."
Cronos didn't answer at first. Then he said:
"Magic has patterns. Time has moods. Today, they almost didn't agree."
Harry tilted his head. "Did you do something?"
Cronos gave the faintest of smiles. "Let's just say… I nudged the moment back into place."
Then, without further explanation, he turned away.
Cronos's Tower Office
The hourglass on his desk was still empty.
He opened his notebook.
Timeline A2 – Nov 14• Quidditch match anomaly• Cursing force identified — Q.Q. (confirmed faster magical progression)• Snape counteracting• Student interference: Hermione Granger• Required stabilization• Minor time anchor deployed
➤ Timeline status: Intact but under strain
He tapped the ink dry, eyes narrowing.
"He's accelerating," Cronos whispered. "And I'm already off-script."
He leaned back, staring out at the darkened sky, monocle still glinting faintly.
The castle was quiet. Most students had long gone to their dormitories, celebrating Gryffindor's win with butterbeer-flavored sweets and unofficial chants.
Cronos walked the shadowed corridor with slow, thoughtful steps. The torchlight flickered oddly — like the walls weren't entirely sure what time it was. He could still feel the echo of the curse from the match. It had left a thin tremor in the air.
He rounded the corner—and found Snape locking his classroom door.
Snape looked up without surprise. "Professor Greywood."
"Professor Snape."
A moment passed, and the silence was not unfriendly—just cautious.
"You were countering it," Cronos said quietly.
Snape's lips twitched. "I assume you don't mean the Gryffindor victory."
Cronos stepped closer, voice still even. "You knew the broom was cursed."
Snape turned, robes rustling faintly. "Yes. And you… did something as well."
A beat.
Neither man confirmed it out loud.
Then Cronos said, "The curse was stronger than I expected."
Snape's expression darkened. "It wasn't student-level work."
"Quirrell."
Snape's eyes sharpened. "You believe that as well?"
Cronos nodded slowly. "I know it. But not in the way you think."
Snape crossed his arms. "You speak in riddles."
"I speak in safety," Cronos replied. "There are truths that bend time when said aloud."
Snape narrowed his eyes but didn't press. He seemed to recognize the weight behind those words.
Cronos continued, "You protected the boy. That matters."
Snape said nothing for a moment, then:
"I protect the school."
There was something bitter and true in that sentence.
They stood there a moment longer, two guardians staring down a corridor that suddenly felt colder.
Cronos turned to leave, but paused. "Watch him carefully. He's being watched in return."
Snape raised an eyebrow. "You mean the Dark Lord."
"I mean more than him."
Cronos walked away, the corridor shifting softly in his wake—shadows sliding a little too slow, a little too long.
Snape remained behind, gaze fixed not on Cronos, but on the corridor wall — as though trying to see something he couldn't quite name.