Chapter 16: Time's Guardian and Shadows of the Past
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The air at Hogwarts was heavy with tension, though most couldn't say why. As the fourth year of Harrison Strange Potter's life at Hogwarts began, strange events began to unfold once again, mirroring those of Harry's second year. But this time, Harrison's presence was not just that of a protector—it was as a guardian of time itself.
It began subtly. Whispers in the corridors, petrified animals, strange scribblings on the walls. "The Chamber of Secrets has been opened." These words reappeared on the stones of the ancient castle, painted in blood-red writing that chilled the very marrow of even the bravest students.
Harry, now in his second year, grew tense with each day. Daphne and Astoria stuck close to him, and though Astoria had been sorted into Slytherin, she often crossed over to spend time with her siblings. Luna, quiet and dreamy, had her own sense that something was wrong. Harrison, however, watched carefully, calculating each detail.
He recognized the signs.
It had happened once before. And though history sought to repeat itself, Harrison would not allow it to follow the same path.
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Whispers in the Walls
Whispers slithered through the stone halls. Some students began reporting voices they couldn't place. Then the first attack happened. Penelope Clearwater of Ravenclaw was found near the library, eyes wide and frozen in terror—petrified. Professors scrambled, and fear spread like fire.
Harrison knew the signs.
He secretly called his circle—Harry, Daphne, Luna, Fred, George, Lee, Ron, and Neville—to the Room of Requirement. The chamber transformed into a war room. A great starlit map of Hogwarts hovered in the center. On it, points of light flickered and danced—recording magical disturbances.
"The Basilisk is real," Harrison said flatly. "Tom Riddle's diary is back in play."
Harry's face paled. "It's happening again."
"Not if I can help it," Harrison replied. He looked toward Luna. "I want you researching soul vessels. Talk to the Grey Lady if you can."
"Of course," she said, her tone thoughtful.
Fred and George leaned in, their humor subdued. "What's the plan, boss?"
"Contain the threat. And if needed... turn back the clock."
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The Turning Point
A Slytherin girl in her fourth year, Clarissa Mulbridge, known for her pure-blood arrogance and disdain toward many others, began to act strangely. Her notes turned cryptic. She wandered the halls aimlessly. Her eyes were often blank.
It was possession.
Harrison observed her from a distance. Clarissa, usually full of venom, now seemed lost—haunted. He placed magical trackers on her uniform without her noticing and conjured protective barriers in key locations.
Despite his efforts, one evening she disappeared. The castle was locked down. Panic erupted.
That night, as the professors scrambled to scour the dungeons, Harrison stood in the center of the Room of Requirement, surrounded by shimmering sand and gears suspended in space. Around his neck gleamed the Time Stone, pulsing with emerald light.
He drew a circle in the air. Sigils spun outward.
"I invoke the authority of the Sorcerer Supreme. The Timeline must not fall."
And with a final twist, time reversed.
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The Guardian of Time
Time spun backward, carefully rewinding to the moment before Clarissa vanished. Harrison stepped forward, halting the clock at that precise instant. Cloaked in temporal energy, he materialized inside the girl's bathroom where the entrance to the Chamber lay hidden.
He faced the enchanted sink and spoke in Parseltongue: "Open."
The entrance revealed itself. Harrison leapt down, landing in the eerie tunnels of the Chamber of Secrets. Basilisk scales littered the floor. Shadows slithered along the walls.
He reached the final chamber in time to see Clarissa collapsed, the diary beside her. From it, the ghostly form of Tom Riddle turned.
"So, the mighty Harrison Potter," Riddle hissed. "Come to die?"
Harrison said nothing.
He raised his hand, and cosmic flame erupted. Eldritch circles blazed around his fingers. He pointed toward the diary.
"I am the Guardian of Time, Sorcerer Supreme of this dimension, and Champion of Chaos."
He launched a stream of eldritch energy laced with time magic. The diary screamed as it burned, Riddle fading into vapor, destroyed.
Clarissa stirred. Harrison caught her before she fell. Her eyes fluttered open, dazed.
"It's over," he whispered. "This timeline is safe."
And for the first time, Clarissa looked at him not with contempt—but with awe.
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News from Azkaban
The victory was short-lived.
Two days after returning to the surface, the Daily Prophet arrived with headlines in blood-red ink:
"SIRIUS BLACK ESCAPES FROM AZKABAN!"
The paper trembled in Harry's hands. He looked up at Harrison, fear in his eyes. "That's the man who betrayed our parents, right?"
Harrison was silent.
He knew the truth. He had known it since the moment he reclaimed memories from his higher-dimensional life. Sirius was no traitor.
He turned to the group. "Black's escape wasn't random. The Ministry will say he's coming for Harry. That's a lie. He's coming for the truth."
Daphne looked skeptical. "You think he's innocent?"
"I don't think. I know."
The professors responded quickly. Dementors were stationed at the gates. Cold, soul-draining shadows stalked the grounds. Harry reacted poorly to their presence, fainting near them.
Harrison, watching from the side, whispered to his brother, "There's more to fear than fear itself. But you'll never face it alone."
He had work to do. The web of time was shifting again, and darkness approached not just from within—but from the Ministry, from secrets long buried, and from traitors cloaked in righteousness.
But Harrison Strange Potter—Guardian of Time, Sorcerer Supreme, Champion of Chaos—stood ready.
The forth year had only just begun.