Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

DING,

Upgraded Devil Fruit pack, ( no sea or sea stone weakness, single consume per person)

Hei hei no mi

Magu Magu no mi

Pika Pika no mi

Goro Goro no mi

Mera Mera no mi

Inu Inu no mi: model Okuchi no Makami

Inu Inu no mi: model Fenrir

Tori Tori no mi: model Phoenix

Tori Tori no mi: model Thunder Bird

What the fuck another legendary spin with 8 fucking devil fruits with no sea weakness. I screamed on top of my lung as I watched my reward.

"Whew, now that's a lot of devil fruits. I don't even need all of them."

"Hmm I think Daphne will love the freeze fruit, it will match her reputation the ice queen of Slytherin and one for Snape well I will give him the fire one he will control it well with his calm personality."

"I will take the Light one but I still have 6 left I might give the thunder bird one to Vajra, that still left me with 5 fruits. Hmmmm....."

"Might give Jon and Ghost the Fenrir and Okuchi no Makami. Jon is a good person and Ghost is extremely loyal to Jon. Yeah it will work, Deanery's dragon will stand no chance against Jon and Ghost. And no matter what people will say Jon did the right thing killing her no matter what happen she is no innocent for burning almost half million innocent people and children."

"Now it will left me with 3 fruits, well I will see about it when time will come. Now I think The battle of Bastards will be a very good destination much sooner before Sansa arrives with Knights of Vale and helping Jon winning the battle will make him trust me so it will be help full for the future."

With this thought I muttered Freyja's name 3 times and my surrounding changed.

Jon Snow's POV:

The battlefield smelled of blood and fear.

We were losing.

Our men were trapped in a spiral of death, surrounded by Ramsay's forces. I had watched Rickon die, and still I charged in. The cavalry followed, but it wasn't enough.

I fought like a man already dead. My sword arm burned. I couldn't even tell whose blood soaked my furs anymore. Wildlings fell beside me. I heard Wun Wun roar and knew we couldn't hold much longer.

I was about to fall.

Then the air cracked.

A sound like lightning and gods clashing echoed across the field. And from the heavens came light. Blinding, golden, unnatural.

He landed like a star fallen from the sky.

A figure cloaked in shimmering power, two long swords glowing with ancient fire. His eyes—emerald and sapphire—locked onto the chaos with calm fury.

Then he moved.

I had never seen anyone fight like that.

Bolton soldiers were tossed aside like broken dolls. Arrows froze midair, shattered by walls of light. The stranger moved faster than thought, slicing through the enemy ranks with ease.

He was a demon. A god. A savior.

Men who had moments ago been fleeing now turned to fight with him.

Wun Wun bellowed and charged again. Tormund screamed a war cry that made my blood surge. Even Davos, battered and bloodied, rallied to the line.

The tide turned.

I cut down the man in front of me and staggered to where he had landed.

He turned just as I approached. His face was calm. Smiling. Like this wasn't war—like this was a game.

He nodded to me.

"Hey, Wolf-King. Mind if I help?"

He leapt back into the fray before I could answer.

What followed was... unbelievable.

The enemy lines crumbled. Ramsay's archers panicked. His cavalry was routed. The stranger's light tore through everything that stood between us and the walls of Winterfell.

I saw him reach the gates. And I followed.

By the time I made it to Ramsay, the man had already bound him in glowing chains. Ramsay, the bastard who murdered my brother, was kneeling. Powerless. Broken.

I stood there, sword in hand, staring at this mysterious warrior who had changed everything.

He handed Ramsay over like spoils of war.

And without another word, he vanished into the shadows.

Winterfell was ours.

The battle was won.

Winterfell's gates stood open. The banners of House Stark, long absent from these walls, swayed in the wind once again. The blood of the fallen soaked the snow, but their sacrifice was not in vain. We had reclaimed our home.

And none of it would have been possible without... him.

He stood just off to the side of the battlefield, his glowing swords vanished, his strange cloak still billowing as if caught in an unseen breeze. Eyes mismatched—one sapphire, one emerald—he looked like something from Old Nan's stories.

Men gathered, whispering, wondering.

I stepped forward as Tormund, Wun Wun, and Lady Lyanna Mormont approached me. Behind them came the remaining Wildlings and Northern houses who had stood by us. They were still reeling.

"Who is he?" Lyanna asked sharply, her arms crossed.

The man in question turned to us with a grin that didn't match the battlefield.

"Jon Bonds," he said simply. "Wizard. Here to help."

The murmurs turned to gasps. Someone scoffed, but no one dared step forward.

"A wizard?" Tormund said, half-laughing. "Like the ones in the tales?"

"Yup," Bonds replied, popping the 'p'. "Fireballs, portals, glowing swords, light-speed travel, and mild social anxiety."

I raised an eyebrow. "And what do you want in return for helping us win this war?"

"Just a private chat," he said, eyes landing on me. "You. Me. The godswood. Alone. It's important."

Before I could answer, a horn blew.

The Vale.

I turned. Horses thundered toward us. Sansa rode at the front, eyes wide as she saw the battlefield already taken. Behind her came Petyr Baelish and the knights of the Vale, their silver banners fluttering in confusion.

Sansa dismounted slowly, her gaze settling on Ramsay—bloody, broken, and chained at my feet.

"I didn't kill him," I said softly. "He's yours."

She stepped forward, nodded, and turned to the stranger standing nearby.

"And who's this?" she asked.

"This," I replied, "is Jon Bonds. He helped us win."

Bonds bowed playfully. "Pleasure, Lady Stark."

She narrowed her eyes. "What do you want in return?"

He looked genuinely amused. "A conversation with your brother. That's all."

"You don't want land? Gold?"

"Nope."

"Titles?"

"Gods, no. That sounds like paperwork."

Her eyes narrowed more. "Just a talk?"

"Godswood. Tonight. Important."

She glanced at me, and I nodded. "We'll talk. Later."

Then I looked him in the eyes. "You've earned our thanks. And Winterfell's hospitality."

I ordered a nearby soldier for a piece of bread and salt —custom in the North—and offered it.

He took it, expression softening for a second. "Accepted."

The men around us began cheering again, now for him. Tormund clapped him hard on the back. "You move like a demon. I want one of those light swords."

"I'll add it to your birthday list," Bonds muttered.

Lady Lyanna gave a small nod. "You fight well... for a southerner."

"I'm not from the South," he said, smirking.

"Then where?"

"Everywhere," he replied.

The crowd broke up slowly. Soldiers gathered their dead. Healers rushed in. Wildlings laughed and joked like the world hadn't almost ended.

But my mind was already elsewhere.

That godswood meeting. What did he know? Why was he here?

Only one way to find out.

Jon Bond's POV:

The cold air of Winterfell bit like a frost wolf tonight, and yet the tension between the walls of the ancient keep felt warmer than any fire. I stood before Jon Snow and Sansa Stark, both staring at me like I was some myth given flesh.

"You want to talk now?" Jon Snow said, arms crossed, eyes wary, but not unfriendly. Behind him, Ghost stood as still as a shadow, his red eyes fixed on me.

"Yes," I said. "Now that the war is over and Bolton's broken jaw is probably still humming from my punch, it's time."

Sansa's gaze hadn't softened. "You came out of nowhere. Saved our people. And you say you're a wizard? What do you want in return?"

I smiled. "Nothing, Lady Stark. Just a moment of your brother's time. And his trust. And well... maybe his soul for a few hours. Give or take."

Jon Snow narrowed his eyes. "That supposed to be a joke?"

"Yes. Mostly."

Sansa stepped forward. "You say you're here to help. But why Jon? He's a—"

"Bastard?" Snow finished for her, not even flinching.

"Because he's a good man," I interrupted gently. "He's just. He's honorable. He still fought for the realm of the living even after being killed by the very brothers he trusted. That... that takes strength even kings don't possess."

Jon's expression shifted slightly, something in his jaw unclenching.

I looked at Sansa. "And not all men are like the ones you've had to endure. Some of us still fight for something purer. For people. For homes. For families."

Her icy gaze cracked. She glanced at Jon Snow, then back at me, then gave the smallest of nods.

I looked them both in the eye. "The Night King isn't just some icy zombie lord with an army of undead. He wields something ancient. A blade known in whispers and forgotten scrolls as The Sword of Victory."

Jon narrowed his eyes. "Never heard of it."

"Because most of its history has been erased. The last time it was used, 8,000 years ago, during the First Long Night, it nearly ended the world."

Sansa crossed her arms. "I thought the Night King was defeated."

"He was pushed back," I corrected. "Not killed. And that blade—along with another ability—makes him nearly unbeatable."

I looked at Jon. "The Night King can see your movements, anticipate your attacks. It's a type of precognition. Call it... enhanced perception."

Sansa raised a brow. "You mean magic?"

"In a sense. It's a rare skill. Makes him nearly impossible to strike in close combat."

"That's why I'm giving Jon and Ghost this." I opened the rune-sealed box I had summoned.

Inside: two Devil Fruits.

"The Inu Inu no Mi: Model Fenrir for Jon. And the Inu Inu no Mi: Model Okuchi no Makami for Ghost."

Sansa flinched. "You're giving my brother and his direwolf strange magic fruits?"

"These fruits will make them into something... more," I said. "You've seen what I can do. After they eat these, Ghost will be able to freeze anything in his path. And Jon... will become a wolfman strong enough to fight dragons and armies on his own."

Sansa still wasn't convinced . "Why? Why give something so powerful away?"

I smiled softly. "Because I have six more. And because your brother is a good man. A just one. And soon, the Dragon Queen will summon him to Dragonstone. She'll expect him to bend the knee."

Jon looked up sharply. "How do you know that?"

"Let's just say... I'm good at reading the future."

Sansa scowled. "So, you think giving him this power will intimidate her?"

"I think it will give him leverage," I replied. "She won't kneel to words. But she'll kneel to strength. And together, you'll need to unite against the Night King. Because what's coming... is worse than anything we've faced."

Jon touched the fruit. "What happens when I eat it?"

"Your body will change. Your soul too. You'll become something not quite man, not quite wolf. But you'll keep your mind. Ghost will evolve too."

Ghost sniffed his fruit, then — with a wolf's blunt instinct — chomped it down.

A long, breathless silence followed.

And then —

"Finally," Ghost said, his voice deep, lupine, and ancient. "I can speak."

Jon staggered back. "By the old gods—did Ghost just TALK?!"

Sansa gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "What sorcery is this?!"

Ghost's crimson gaze locked on Sansa. "You should have protected Lady. And Father. And Mother. You let the Boltons and Lannister break us."

Sansa's face went pale. "What... what the hell?"

Jon's eyes were wide, lips parted in disbelief. "Ghost, that's enough."

I coughed into my fist. "Side effect of the fruit. He's got the *Okuchi no Makami*. Japanese wolf god model. Extra features include speech, ice breath, and sass. Lots of sass."

Ghost huffed and turned to Sansa again. "You were one of the reasons Lady died. One of the reasons House Stark broke."

"Enough!" Jon snapped again, stepping in front of his sister. "She suffered too. She did what she had to survive. That's not her fault."

Sansa's hands trembled slightly. She looked like she was reliving every agony since Ned Stark's death.

I walked forward, slowly, gently, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Ghost speaks from grief. He lost them too. But blame won't fix anything. You, Sansa Stark, endured when most would've shattered. And that means more than he sees... right now."

Her eyes welled with tears. She didn't look away.

"I trust you," she said quietly. "And I trust him. So come back. Both of you. Ghost too. Come back safe and sound."

Jon nodded. "You'll watch over Winterfell?"

She stepped forward, hugged him tightly. "Always."

Ghost stepped beside them, brushing against her legs. "I'll forgive you... if you make Jon bring me fresh chickens when we get back."

Sansa laughed, wiped her eyes. "You'll get two."

I snapped my fingers. "Alright, wolves. Time to train. To a place where time bends and strength rises. Let's go forge legends."