Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

My hand trembled slightly as I opened the letter.

Hello soul no. 106547832259

We hope that you are enjoying your second life. We deeply apologize for this sudden letter. We send you this letter because we need your help.

Some reincarnated souls like you tried to break the balance of the world they are reincarnated into directly or due to some mistake they have caused. As we can not directly interfere in mortal matters we choose some reincarnated souls like you to kill those persons before they destroy the balance of this world.

We have given you 2 missions in 2 different worlds. And we will also grant you a spin in the wheel of power for each mission you complete. The worlds you are given are-

TWILIGHT- Helena Thorne ( Is a vampire working with Volturi. Plans to take over the world enslaving all human and other supernatural beings. Have the template card of Hermione Granger. Plans to kill Cullens and La Push pack at the final battle during The Breaking Dawn 2 movie.)

GAME OF THRONES- Night King ( Is a reincarnated soul have the Sword of Victory [ as long as he wields the sword he is invincible in any kind of combat except magical combat, and also have Observation Haki. Wants bring Long Night on Planetos.)

If you want to accept the missions please sign at the end of the letter, if not then please burn it. You will not get any penalty or any sort of punishment for not accepting the mission.

If you want some time to prepare for the mission we will wait for your letter for 15 days.

After you signed the letter you will transported into a white room where one of our staff member will give you further information on your missions and rewards.

Sincerely,

The Department Of After Life Management.

I sighed as I placed the letter on the table. Well These missions seems easy for some one like me.

So I decided to do these missions. I ordered a huge amount of Obsidian so that I can coat my bullets. It will take few days for the delivery.

I entered the training space to complete my Animagus transformation. I did not complete my animagi training during my training period so now it's time to complete it.

TIMESKIP,

Months have been passed since I a inside the training space. I have completed my advanced animagi transformation.

Well you guys may ask what is the advanced Animagi transformation. For your information normal animagus are normal animal transformation while advanced version can make you transfer into magical creatures.

I am a Guardian Wolf. It's a race of wolves that are intelligent can stand walk and run like human and faster than any vampire. They wear armor and carries sword. The Guardian Wolves are an extinct race. They are the balance keeper between the magical and non magical world. They make sure magical beings don't harm non magical beings and vice verse.

And then I looked myself at the mirror and DAMN!! 

Seven feet of fur and muscle wrapped in enough steel to make a blacksmith weep. Silver-gray fur, razor-sharp and thick like a damn pelt of war itself. It doesn't lay flat—it bristles. Always. Like it's waiting for a reason to snap. And these eyes? They're not just red—they glow.

Armor? Yeah, I wear it—but not to hide. I leave the chest bare. Why? Because I can. Because it takes a god to land a hit that'll matter. The pauldrons are layered and sharp, with old runes etched in the metal. Some say they're decorative. 

My gauntlets? Art, really. Spiked at the knuckles, lined with bite marks from blades that didn't finish the job. And the skirt—if you can call it that—is plated leather and steel, swaying with every step like it's part of me. Symbols stitched into every strip, from languages no one's spoken in centuries. I don't even remember what half of them mean. 

And then there's the steel I trust most—my blades. Twin Valarian steel katanas. Both hanging on both side of my waist. They're not ceremonial. They're balanced, cruel, and fast. I don't name my weapons—they're not pets. They don't need names. Just blood.

I returned to my cottage after I transferred back. One work is done, now another one.

The Obsidian I ordered arrived 3 days latter and I started coating all of my bullets with help of magic. 1000 .300 Blackout (7.62 mm x 35) bullets for HK 437, 500 12 gauge shells for Mossberg, 4000 .50 Action Express (AE) cartridge for my deagles and finally 200 7.62x51mm NATO cartridge. Also I coated my hidden blade in obsidian.

It took me total 7 days for all of this. Now for the final work.

I waited for the midnight. Then I picked up my camera and apparated to Daphne's room inside Greengrass manor.

I put runes on the necklace and earrings I gave her for safety purpose. 

Back to the business I have no idea for how long I will be gone so I came here to say good bye.

The room was dark when I arrived. Not the kind of darkness that bites or broods—but a gentle, velvety one, shaped by the moonlight bleeding through sheer curtains and the low hum of summer night crickets outside. I landed with barely a sound, the soft pop of apparition muffled by the plush Greengrass manor carpets. For a first visit, I had to admit—it was a hell of a way to make an entrance.

Daphne stirred in her sleep, the moon catching her hair as it sprawled across her pillow like strands of liquid silk. Her breathing was soft. Peaceful. She always looked so unreasonably composed, even in sleep. Like she had full control over her dreams, as if even there she wouldn't allow chaos to touch her. I saw the necklace I gifted her laying on the table near her bed.

I took a breath and slipped the necklace gently around her neck—the one I gave her back at Christmas. A simple thing, really. Just a silver chain with a emerald gem that matched the glint in her eyes when she was being particularly cutting. Or affectionate. Or, you know… Daphne.

Her eyes fluttered open, and for a second, there was no surprise. Just warmth.

"Jon?"

"Midnight visit," I whispered, crouching by her bedside. "The best kind."

She blinked, sitting up slowly, clutching the blanket around her. "Are you—how did you—how are you here?"

I held up a hand. "Before the lecture on magical boundaries, I just want to say: I brought snacks."

She narrowed her eyes. "You did not."

"No," I admitted, grinning. "But that would've been a hell of an excuse."

She sighed, but her lips curled just a bit. "Why are you really here, Bond?"

I sat on the edge of her bed, letting my fingers tap restlessly against my knee. "I came to say goodbye."

The smile vanished.

"What do you mean goodbye?"

"Not forever, alright? Just… I've got something I need to handle over the summer. Something big. I won't be able to send owls or stay in touch. So before disappearing like some mysterious brooding anti-hero, I figured I owed my favorite Slytherin a proper send-off."

Her eyes searched my face like she was trying to read a language only I knew. "What kind of work? Is it dangerous?"

"I'll tell you everything when I get back. Cross my heart."

She scowled slightly. Not the angry kind—more like worried. The kind that made her forehead wrinkle in a way she'd absolutely hex me if I ever mentioned.

"Jon… if this is serious—"

"Hey," I cut in, tilting her chin so her eyes met mine. "Don't go getting emotional on me now. You know that's my job. I'm the tragic orphan genius, remember?"

That earned a laugh. Soft. Breathless. But it was there.

I pulled out a small enchanted camera from my coat pocket. "Before I go, I want something to take with me. A reminder of what I'm coming back to."

"You want a picture?"

"A picture of you," I corrected. "Preferably with less glaring and more smiling. But I won't push my luck."

She rolled her eyes and climbed out of bed, wrapping a silk robe over her nightgown. "You're unbelievable."

"And yet, completely irresistible. Come on, move closer. Let me trap your soul in a photograph."

She stood beside me, arms folded, giving the most unimpressed face she could manage. Which meant she looked absolutely adorable.

The flash blinked.

And then another. One with her poking my ribs when I made a dumb joke. 

We sat again on the edge of the bed, the warmth of her body close to mine. I could feel her hand inching closer until our fingers touched, then tangled like they'd always belonged together.

"My mother's going to have a fit if she finds you here," she said, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Speaking of your charming family," she muttered, "she wants me to start meeting potential berths. Pureblood boys. Future husbands."

"That so?" I said, keeping my tone light.

She nodded. "She even made a list. Numbered. With house affiliations."

I pretended to gag. "Did she include Hogwarts stats and Quidditch scores too?"

"Probably," she muttered.

"Well, you could always tell her you're already taken," I said casually. "By a certain Ravenclaw genius who's totally not a serial rulebreaker."

Daphne didn't laugh.

She turned slightly, her face suddenly close—eyes sharp, but not with anger. With something more dangerous.

"Do you want this, Jon? Really want it?"

Her voice was low. Soft. Like a spell meant only for me.

I looked at her. Really looked.

And said, quietly, "Yeah. I do."

Her breath hitched. Just the slightest bit.

She looked down, fingers curling around mine. "My family might not agree."

"Then we'll make them," I said simply.

Her eyes met mine again, wide.

"Introduce me to them at King's Cross. Start of second year. When we board the train. That day, I'll tell them one of my secrets. And I'll show them I'm not just some clever orphan from nowhere."

I smiled. "I'm Jon Bonds. And I'll make damn sure Lord and Lady Greengrass give us their blessing."

She looked like she couldn't breathe.

I leaned in just a little. "And I'll cure Artoria. Your sister's blood curse."

She gasped.

Her voice was almost a whisper. "How do you—"

"I did my research," I said gently. "I knew your father wouldn't just let you marry anyone. So I studied your family. I learned what mattered to them. And I figured out what I'd need to do to earn their respect."

She stared at me like I'd handed her the stars.

Then she whispered, "Do you want to marry me someday, Jon? Not just… convince them. Do you want this for real?"

I didn't hesitate.

I dropped to one knee, reached for the silver band I always wore—the one I bought myself when I was ten, to remind me who I was and what I was—and took her hand.

I slid it onto her ring finger.

Her breath caught. Her eyes filled instantly.

"This ring has been mine since before I ever knew you," I whispered. "But it always belonged to you."

She dropped to her knees and hugged me fiercely, her entire frame trembling.

"I want this, Daphne. Not for politics. Not for strategy. For you. Someday, I'm going to marry you. That's a promise."

Her tears were hot against my neck. Her arms clutched me like a lifeline.

And I wasn't done.

"One more thing," I said gently, calling softly to the window.

From the trees, a sleek red-tailed hawk descended silently and perched on the windowsill.

"This is Vajra. He's been with me longer than I've known most people. He's clever, proud, and too stubborn to follow orders—just like someone else I know."

She laughed, teary and radiant.

I looked at her seriously. "He's yours until I return. He'll watch over you."

She stepped forward, extended a hand, and Vajra leaned in, allowing her to stroke his feathers.

We stayed like that for minutes. Her fingers clutched at my shirt like she didn't want to let go, like if she held on long enough I'd stay.

She pulled back, eyes red but still shining with a fierce, stubborn love. "Come back to me. In one piece. No excuses."

I raised my hand, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear, and for the first time, I leaned in and kissed her forehead.

"No matter where I go, I'll always return to you. And one day," I whispered, "I'm going to marry you. Not for politics. Not for legacy. But because you're the only one I want to stand beside. For the rest of my life."

She nodded. Then slowly, carefully, she rose on her toes and pressed a kiss to my cheek—near the corner of my lips. Slow. Lingering. Gentle. She pulled away only slightly, her lips barely an inch from mine.

"I'll wait," she whispered.

I stepped back, slowly, unwillingly. Her hand slid from mine like silk slipping through fingers. I took one last look at her.

"Sleep tight, Lady Greengrass. I'll see you soon."

And then I Disapparated.

The wind outside my cottage felt colder than it should've. I stood there, alone now, the world feeling heavier than it did minutes ago.

I didn't cry in front of her.

But I did now.

Just a few quiet tears, wiped away quickly. The kind of tears that weren't about fear or pain—but about love. And what it costs to protect it.

I looked at the picture in my hand. Her smile.

And as I walked toward the edge of the woods, I felt a memory tugging at me. A memory from first year.

The train ride. The Dairy milk chocolate we shared.

And somehow, that was the beginning of everything.

Back in her room, though I couldn't see it, she clutched the ring and the hawk charm to her chest, Vajra perched beside her silently. Tears spilled soundlessly down her cheeks, soaking into her pillow. She didn't sob. She didn't wail. She just cried. Because it hurt. And because it mattered.

And I whispered, to no one but the stars:

"I'm going to marry her. No matter what. That's not a hope. That's a vow."

Daphne's POV:

When I opened my eyes, I could still feel his warmth.

The ring on my finger was the first thing I noticed—cool against my skin, but weighty with meaning. My heart gave a quiet, traitorous flutter just seeing it still there. Not a dream, then. Not some girlish illusion spun from longing. He'd really come. He'd really said those things. He'd given me his ring.

And Vajra was still here.

Perched on the bedpost like a silent sentinel, the red-tailed hawk watched me with eyes far too knowing for a mere bird. His feathers ruffled slightly, as if acknowledging me.

"Good morning, Vajra," I murmured softly, sitting up and letting my fingers brush over his feathers. He didn't flinch. Just leaned into my hand slightly, the way a creature might when it's decided you're safe.

The tears threatened again, but I pushed them down. I didn't want to cry anymore. Not now. Not with his warmth still lingering in the room like a promise. Instead, I smiled.

"Let's get through breakfast without drama," I whispered to Vajra. "Or… at least without too much drama."

The Greengrass Manor dining hall was as obnoxiously regal as ever—long mahogany table, ancestral portraits glaring judgmentally from the walls, enchanted chandeliers that adjusted brightness depending on the weather.

Artoria was already there, legs swinging childishly from her chair, face buried in a mountain of toast and marmalade.

My father, Lord Cedric Greengrass, wore a blue robe with golden embroidery and was—of course—completely absorbed in the Daily Prophet. His glasses slid halfway down his nose, but he didn't seem to care.

My mother, Lady Delphina Greengrass, was meticulously slicing her grapefruit with the elegance of a surgeon and the intensity of a war general.

"Good morning," I said as I entered, Vajra flying in behind me and taking up silent perch on the windowsill.

Artoria blinked, then pointed with her toast. "You brought a hawk to breakfast?"

"It's mine now," I said simply, sliding into my seat. "His name's Vajra."

Father peered over his paper. "That's a fine bird. Looks smarter than most Ministry officials."

"Please don't encourage her," Mother muttered.

"Are you feeling alright, darling?" Father asked, folding his paper. "You look a bit…" He squinted. "Glowy."

Artoria gasped. "Are you in love?"

"I—what? No!" I said a little too quickly.

"You didn't answer fast enough," Artoria pointed out gleefully.

"She's blushing," Father added, peering over his paper.

"I am not!" I snapped.

"Vajra, is she blushing?" Artoria asked the hawk seriously.

The bird tilted his head and let out a soft screech.

"See? He agrees with me," Artoria declared smugly.

"Traitor," I muttered to Vajra, who looked terribly pleased with himself for a bird.

Mother gave a long-suffering sigh. "This is exactly why pureblood traditions are crumbling. Everyone's busy flirting with birds and breakfast instead of attending to serious matters."

"Birds don't argue back," Father offered. "Except that one."

Artoria leaned across the table. "Mum, can I bring a ferret to breakfast tomorrow?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Because I said so."

"Not a very logical argument."

"I'm your mother. That is the argument."

"She's got a point," Father muttered.

"Don't start with me, Cedric."

"Who, me?" he asked innocently, sipping his tea.

I cleared my throat, drawing their attention. "Actually, I wanted to tell you all something."

Mother straightened. "Oh dear. You're not eloping, are you?"

"No!" I said quickly, then paused. "Well… not yet."

Artoria's eyes went wide.

Father blinked. "That's not… comforting, Daphne."

"I've promised myself to someone," I said carefully. "And I love him."

Silence.

Dead. Thick. Beautiful silence.

Mother set her spoon down. Very slowly.

"Who?" she asked with unnatural calm.

"Jon Bonds," I said. "He's a Ravenclaw."

"Bonds," she repeated. "That's not a known wizarding family. What's his blood status?"

"He's a muggleborn."

There it was—the clatter of silverware. The intake of breath. The thundercloud building behind my mother's elegant composure.

"No," she said. "Absolutely not. You will not throw away your legacy—"

"He's the most talented wizard I've ever met," I said firmly. "He was doing wandless and non-chanting magic before he even came to Hogwarts."

Father raised an eyebrow. "Wait—what?"

I nodded. "I've seen it. With my own eyes. Spell after spell—clean, controlled, without a wand. No incantation. Just raw, refined control. He doesn't even flinch."

That got their attention.

"And Vajra?" Mother asked slowly, eyes narrowing at the hawk.

"He's Jon's," I said simply. "Jon gave him to me as a guardian. Said Vajra would watch over me while he's away."

The effect was immediate.

"You're telling me," Father said carefully, setting down his tea, "that this boy—a muggleborn—tamed that?" He pointed at Vajra. "A red-tailed hawk? One of the apex predators of the sky?"

I nodded. "Vajra's bonded to him. Completely. And yet he obeys me because Jon asked him to."

Mother's eyes widened. "That kind of magical affinity with a creature that wild… that proud… that's not normal."

"I never said Jon was normal," I replied.

Father leaned forward, visibly more intrigued. "You said he's a muggleborn. Lives where?"

"Yorkshire Dales," I said. "Alone."

Mother stiffened. "He's an orphan? And he lives alone?"

I nodded again.

"And yet this boy can cast wandless and chantless magic… tame a hawk… and afford this?" I lifted my hand and let the sunlight catch on the emerald ring. "And the necklace and earrings he gave me for Christmas."

Their heads turned sharply.

"I've seen you wear those," Mother whispered. "But you never said—"

"They were from him."

Father sat back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "A muggle orphan… living alone… giving away expensive jewelry… capable of near-impossible magical feats…"

Mother's voice was low. "How?"

"I don't know," I said honestly. "But I trust him."

Artoria stood again on her chair, now speechless, staring at Vajra like the bird might sprout antlers next.

Father exchanged a long look with Mother.

Then, quietly, he said, "We need to meet him. We must meet him."

Mother's expression was unreadable, but she gave the faintest of nods.

"He said he can't visit during the summer," I said gently. "But he promised to meet you at King's Cross. When we board the train for second year."

"Convenient," Mother muttered, but the edge in her voice had softened.

"I'm not telling you everything," I admitted. "But when Jon gives a promise… he keeps it."

"Then we'll wait," Father said. "But I expect answers. Because this Jon Bonds… sounds like no boy I've ever heard of."

"And no man I've ever seen," Mother added.

"I still don't want her to get married!" Artoria wailed. "I don't care if he's a dragon-wolf-hawk hybrid with a diamond wand!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not a thing," Father muttered.

"She's mine! Mine! No take-backs!"

"She'll always be your big sister," I said, reaching out to ruffle her hair.

"Then tell him that if he hurts you, I will hurt him."

Vajra let out another low screech from the window.

"See?" Artoria folded her arms. "Even the hawk agrees with me."

And despite the heavy air and dramatic shift… I smiled.

Because they weren't pushing me away.

They were ready to meet the boy who had already claimed my heart.

And they were just a little in awe of him, too.

Father suddenly groaned theatrically and slumped back in his chair, arms crossed. "But I don't want my little princess to get married! Can't she stay a Greengrass forever?"

"Cedric," Mother snapped with narrowed eyes, "you are a grown man, not a heartbroken eleven-year-old. Stop sulking before I transfigure your chair into a cradle to match your current behavior."

"Papa!" I scolded, flushed. "You were literally the one who said you wanted to meet him!"

"That was before I imagined you walking down the aisle," he said dramatically. "You'll be gone. My little girl. Married off. Replaced by a genius Ravenclaw who tames hawks like they're parrots—"

"Dad," I warned.

"I raised her!" he wailed. "I changed her nappies! I bought her first broom!"

"You're being insufferable," Mother hissed. "You didn't even buy that broom; I did!"

Artoria cheered, clapping. "I like this show. Do more, do more!"

"I'm serious!" Father declared. "She's the first girl who called me 'Papa,' and now she's going to be someone else's wife! I demand a formal mourning period!"

"Fine," I said sweetly. "You'll get one day. After the wedding. Then you're cutting the cake with Jon."

He gasped. "Treason!"

"Cedric Greengrass, you will behave like the Lord of this house," Mother hissed.

He sulked, muttering into his toast.

I rolled my eyes and leaned into Vajra's warm feathers. "This is my family," I whispered.

The hawk blinked at me.

And I smiled.