The End of the Beginning
Omni Pov
He was in the place that was one of the first to fall.
Hogwarts.
Imagine a normal day, sitting with friends, eating, laughing.
Looking up to admire the enchanted ceiling—only to see a nuclear warhead descending upon you.
And you might ask... what happened to the wards?
Simple.
The damage from four wars had left them fragile, weakened, vulnerable.
Then came the traitors—blood traitors.
Muggle-borns and half-bloods who chose the enemy's side.
No one had been prepared for that betrayal.
No one had been prepared for the end.
Chronos Zion stood amid the ruins, ash swirling like phantoms of the past.
He exhaled slowly, his breath visible in the unnatural cold.
"Finally... I have reached it."
A relic of his fallen house, this book was one of the last remnants of his bloodline, a gift given to him before her death.
He ran his fingers over its ancient cover, the leather worn and cracked, imbued with a sense of something far greater than mere parchment and ink.
A single cut on his finger, a drop of blood seeping into the cover, and the book trembled.
A soft glow pulsed from within, like a heartbeat awakening.
The blank pages darkened, ink crawling across them as if an unseen hand was writing in real-time.
His mother had told him to open the book on this day—his birthday.
Not before.
Not after.
Only today.
Why today?
Because it was his birthday.
And then, words took form, their presence both commanding and sorrowful.
And he read.
To the one who remains,
If you are reading this, then we have succeeded.
You are the culmination of all that we were, all that we could have been, and all that we lost.
We, the Zion family, were once the architects of time, the keepers of its flow.
We were blessed with power unmatched, but fate, ever cruel and ever watchful, sought to strike us down.
And so it did.
With every passing generation, our enemies grew.
Those gifted in divination saw our downfall written in the stars, and with the favor of fate, they turned the world against us.
The war we fought—the war we lost—was not one of mere bloodshed, but one of inevitability.
A war against destiny itself.
It was we who first learned of the multiverse, the infinite possibilities that lay beyond our own world.
We discovered paths unseen, futures unwritten, and yet no matter how we fought, fate ensured that we would fall.
It brought armies against us, rallied those who feared our existence, and bound us in chains of prophecy.
Even as we adapted, even as we learned, it was never enough.
So we made a choice.
A sacrifice.
The greatest of all.
Your mission is not simple revenge.
Vengeance is a flame that consumes those who wield it.
No, your task is greater.
You must rebuild our house, forge new alliances, and seize what was stolen from us.
Our enemies—the diviners, the false kings, the blood traitors who turned against their own—will still seek to end you, even now.
But you will not be alone.
In the timeline you are about to enter, ancient magic remains strong, untamed, and unbroken.
There, you will find those who still honor our name, those who remember, those who wait.
The Peverells, wielders of death magic, still exist in the shadows, holding knowledge forbidden by the cowards who claim dominion over magic.
The remnants of the Emrys and the Pendragons, fractured as they are, still hold strength, if only one with the will to unify them would rise.
But beware—our foes are many.
The Slytherins, who betrayed the magical world to the monsters of the dark.
The Muggle-borns and half-bloods who sold their souls to the enemy, betraying their own kind for the illusion of safety.
This is why you must act swiftly.
The ritual has granted you one chance—one moment to return.
To a point before the war, before the fall.
You will only have one opportunity to set things right.
To prepare.
To change everything.
The past will not welcome you, for it has already been written.
But you, Chronos, will rewrite it.
We did not die in vain.
We did not suffer to be forgotten.
The world waits for its King to reclaim what is his.
You are Chronos X Zion.
HEIR OF THE MOST ANCIENT AND MOST NOBLE HOUSE OF ZION.
EMPEROR OF TIME.
Chronos felt his breath hitch as he reached the part of the letter with ritual explanation. The words swam before his eyes.
Requirements:
- All the magic of the Zion family—past, present, and future.
- All the magic that could ever be.
- A strong body.
- A strong soul.
- A strong mind.
- No damage before the first ten years of life.
- Manifestation of family traits.
- Unbreakable luck.
- Ancient magic.
Effects:
- Bloodline Ascension.
- Potential beyond mortal limits.
- Access to family relics.
- Access to the ancestral library.
- Access to the memories of Zion.
- One-time use of Time Travel.
- Ancient Magic beyond comprehension.
But none of these were the true revelation.
It was the final line that shattered his world.
- The subject of this ritual will become a contradiction in itself, no longer bound by Fate.
It all made sense now. The war. The vague requirement of "all the magic there can be."
His family hadn't just convinced Muggles to hunt wizards out of hate.
That wasn't the real reason.
This war... this ritual was never about just vengeance.
It was a miracle that should never have existed.
The greatest comeback of the Zion family.
Their middle finger to Fate itself.
A man-made, living paradox.
His mind reeled, struggling to comprehend the weight of the words before him.
All his life, he had felt the echoes of something greater—a purpose he could never quite grasp.
And now, here it was.
His birth had not been by chance.
His existence was a declaration of war against fate itself.
He looked down at his hands, flexing his fingers as power thrummed beneath his skin.
The ritual had made him a living paradox, an anomaly in time.
It was why he had survived when all others had fallen.
Why, no matter what happened, he always seemed to find a way forward.
But now, there was no more wandering.
No more surviving.
Now, there was only action.
He reached into his robes, pulling out a single artifact—a small, intricate pocket clock.
It pulsed with ancient magic, a relic of his ancestors, imbued with the power of time itself.
The final gift of the Zion family.
The sky above rumbled.
The world trembled.
The last moments of existence unfolded around him, the dying breath of a timeline that had already lost.
Chronos tightened his grip on the clock, his mind made up.
The past awaited.
And he would meet it head-on.
With a final, resolute step, he activated the artifact.
*Boom*
Space shattered around him as the earth crumbled and the world as he knew it ceased to be.
Darkness.
And then—
A new beginning.