Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

August 30th, 1992. Two days before the Hogwarts Express.

The wind in Yorkshire Dale smelled of honeysuckle and old summer. I stood at the edge of the clearing behind the house, feeling that old familiar tug of magic all around me. But it wasn't the ancient power of dragons or the bitter edge of frozen wights—this was something else. Something gentler.

Vajra.

I took a deep breath. It was over. The dead were dead again. The realm of Westeros would rebuild. Daenerys would rule with justice, and Jon Snow... well, he had more than earned his rest. I was Jon Bonds again—no crown, no armies, no war. Just a wizard with a red tail hawk to call home.

"Come on, boy," I whispered, my voice low, like a song.

I reached into the magic of the world, into that tether I had left behind when I vanished. My palm glowed faintly, pulsing with electric blue energy. And from the northern skies, a screech echoed.

Vajra.

My hawk. My first companion. My silent watcher. He came slicing through the air like a comet, wings blazing against the clouds, and with a sudden WHOOSH, he landed on my arm, talons light as feathers.

"You missed me, didn't you?" I grinned, petting his head with my free hand.

He clicked his beak twice and nuzzled into my shoulder.

"I've got something for you, my friend," I whispered.

I opened my hand and summoned the Devil fruit of the Thunderbird. And without any second word Vajra eat a small part of it shrieked in dis comfort. Well nothing comes free. 

Thunder rolled in the clear blue sky. Vajra shrieked, this time not in pain or dis comfort—but in power. Lightning crackled across his feathers as they shimmered, shifting into deep sapphire and silver, eyes glowing like miniature tempests.

He had become something more now. A mythical storm-hawk. Well he can grow much bigger but I asked him not to as it will bring unwanted attention.

He flapped his wings once, and the trees bowed.

"Yeah," I said, breathless. "That's my boy."

I took a moment to sit down at my desk—wooden, slightly charred at one corner from a potion mishap—and grabbed a parchment.

Daphne,

I'm home.

The work is done. The ghosts are buried. The winter passed, and the spring followed.

I missed you so, so much. More than I can ever put into words. There wasn't a day I didn't think of your laugh, your scowl, your quiet strength.

I want to see you. Gods, I need to see you. I've got a gift for you—one that you'll love. Trust me.

Meet me at King's Cross two days from now. But come early—and bring your parents. I want to meet them. Properly.

I don't know how else to say this, Daphne, but... I'm home. For good.

Jon

I folded the letter and tied it to Vajra's leg. The thunder-hawk blinked at me, almost smugly, like he understood how important this delivery was.

"Take it to her," I told him. "She needs to know."

He launched into the air, a crack of electricity trailing behind him.

Daphne Greengrass POV:

The window was open. Late summer air swirled lazily in her bedroom. She sat at her vanity, brushing her hair, lost in thought. There hadn't been a letter in months. Not from Jon. Not since that last cryptic goodbye. And it was not like him.

Then—

A CRACK of thunder.

She shot up.

Vajra.

He landed on her windowsill, now glowing like a storm itself. Her eyes widened. Her breath hitched. Her hand trembled as she untied the parchment.

Her heart pounded as she read Jon's words.

He's back.

She pressed the letter to her lips, tears filling her eyes as a smile spread across her face. A real, unguarded, Daphne smile.

He was home.

And he missed her.

She wiped her eyes and whispered, "I missed you too, you idiot."

Then she ran to tell her parents.

They had a train to catch early.

1st September,

The morning air was crisp with the fading scent of summer. The house-elves had already packed our trunks, and my owl hooted irritably in her cage as we readied ourselves for the trip to King's Cross. But I wasn't paying attention to any of that. My mind was somewhere else. My heart, really. It was already on Platform 9 ¾.

Jon was back.

He sent Vajra.

The moment I saw that red-tailed hawk glide into the garden, my heart stopped, then restarted in a wild, fluttering mess. I hadn't even opened the letter yet before I started crying. He was home. My Jon. After months of silence, after months of aching questions and constant worry... he was here. Not a dream. Not a ghost. Not a memory. Jon Bonds had come back to me.

"Daphne, love," my mother, Delphina Greengrass, called from the hall, her heels clicking over the polished floor. "Ready to go, darling?"

I wiped under my eyes and smiled. "Almost, Mother. I just—needed a moment."

She gave me a knowing look. "To collect yourself before seeing him again?"

My face heated up like a boiling potion. "Is it that obvious?"

Mother laughed, brushing her pale silver-blonde hair over her shoulder. "When you talk about someone in your sleep, yes, dear, it becomes quite obvious."

"Mother!"

Behind her, my little sister Artoria giggled in that annoyingly innocent way only a younger sister could. She looked better today. The potions and blood-replenishing elixirs were helping, but the curse was still there. Eating at her from the inside out.

Not for long, though. Not if Jon really meant what he wrote.

"He said he's going to help her, didn't he?" my father asked me softly as we stepped into the Floo. Cedric Greengrass was a tall man, taller than Jon even, with a steady voice and a presence that made most pure-blood Lords shrink back in respect. But when he asked me about Jon—there was curiosity, yes, but also the barest flicker of hope.

I nodded. "He said he can cure her."

"Big promise for a boy the world calls a Muggle orphan," he murmured, almost to himself.

"He's not just a boy," I whispered. "You'll see."

And they did.

Platform 9 ¾ was quieter than usual. We always came early, so Artoria didn't get too overwhelmed by the crowds, but this time, it was almost empty. The wind rustled softly between the red brick walls. The train wasn't even billowing steam yet.

But I saw him.

Leaning against a far pillar, arms crossed, eyes closed, looking as unbothered as ever. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, revealing his arms—inked with protective runes and arcane tattoos that shimmered faintly under the morning light. His build had matured—more muscle, a quiet confidence in the way he held himself. And sitting on his shoulder, majestic as ever, was Vajra, his red-tailed hawk. That contrast made him look even more surreal, like a storm contained in flesh.

My heart leapt.

"Jon!"

His eyes opened at the sound of my voice, and gods help me, I swear the sun got brighter just to reflect in his emerald and sapphire eyes of his. That smile—the one I'd missed more than anything—broke across his face like dawn over the hills.

I didn't walk.

I ran.

And he opened his arms just in time to catch me as I leapt into them. He spun me around like I weighed nothing, and for a moment, all the months apart, all the unanswered questions, all the nightmares about what could have happened to him—melted away.

"You're real," I whispered as I hugged him tightly.

"You think a few missions could keep me from coming back to you?" he murmured against my hair.

"I missed you."

"I missed you more."

"I love you."

He pulled back just enough to look me in the eyes. "I love you too."

Then he kissed my forehead, and I swear my heart exploded.

Ahem.

The familiar, baritone cough made both of us freeze.

Jon turned his head slowly.

My father was standing there with his arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on his lips.

"I see Hogwarts has very... intense holiday homework these days."

"Father!" I blushed so hard I felt like my ears would melt off.

Jon didn't look embarrassed though. He smiled, lowered me gently, and turned to face Cedric Greengrass like a soldier facing a commander.

"Lord Greengrass," he said, extending a hand.

Father took it.

And froze.

For a second, the very air shifted. A soft hum vibrated around us. Not wind. Not magic as we knew it.

Then my father's eyes widened.

"You just cast a Muffliato charm," he whispered, staring into Jon's eyes.

Jon nodded once. "Just enough for privacy."

Mother gasped softly. "Without a wand?"

He simply smiled.

I folded my arms smugly. "Told you."

Father was silent for a long moment. Then he released Jon's hand and nodded once.

"Impressive. But parlour tricks don't cure blood curses."

Jon's smile faded into something sharper.

"I didn't come to impress," he said, his voice calm but firm. "I came to make good on a promise. I can stabilize Artoria's condition—for now. Give her at least a year of comfort. But to cure it permanently, I'll need to monitor her closely during Christmas."

Artoria, who had been hiding behind Mother, peeked around with wide eyes.

Jon knelt to her level. And gave her a potion bottle.

"This won't hurt," he told her. "And you'll feel stronger very soon. But the big spell comes later. I'll be there with you when we do it. I promise."

"Okay," she whispered. "But only if you pinky swear."

Jon solemnly extended his pinky.

They locked fingers. And Artoria took the potion from Jon's hand.

My father watched the exchange with a face like stone. Then, slowly, he relaxed.

"You've given her hope," he said, voice low. "For that, you already have our gratitude."

Jon smiled. "It's not hope. It's a promise."

And just as things looked like they might settle into a calm, dignified exchange.

Artoria tightened her grip on my robe and shouted, "You're not taking my sister away forever, you oaf!"

Jon blinked. "What?"

"You're marrying her, right? That means she'll move away!"

Before Jon could respond, Father added with a harrumph, "A bit young for marriage, don't you think? Daphne still has a few OWLs to complete."

"Father!" I squeaked.

"Absolutely not until she finishes school," he said dramatically, arms crossed.

"I AGREE!" Artoria chirped, looking scandalized. "No sister-snatching until I say so!"

Delphina sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Really, Cedric, must you rile them up so early?"

"And you," she turned to Artoria, "stop acting like your sister is being dragged off to another continent. She's boarding a train, not eloping!"

"Yet," Father muttered.

"CEDRIC!"

Jon looked completely overwhelmed and also like he was trying very, very hard not to laugh.

"I didn't think..." he murmured, more to himself than anyone, "they'd be like this."

"Like what?" I asked.

"Normal," he said, smiling. "You're Sacred Twenty-Eight. I thought I'd be facing a council of crown-wearing elves or something."

My mother snorted.

"You're not the first to say that," she said dryly. "We keep the tiaras in the attic."

At last, the Hogwarts Express gave a long, welcoming whistle.

"I suppose we should board," I said, taking Jon's hand.

As we walked toward the train, Mother placed a hand on Jon's shoulder.

"You're welcome to spend Christmas with us," she said. "You'll need to be there anyway if you're helping Artoria. And... it would mean a lot to Daphne."

Jon looked at her, then at me.

"I'd like that very much," he said softly.