Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

The snow crunched softly beneath Helena's boots as she moved across the frozen glade, the air silent save for the creak of leather and the hushed breathing of the Volturi guard. The morning was deceptively serene—sunlight filtered through a pale sky, dancing on icicles that hung from the ancient pines. But Helena felt the tension in every flake of frost, in every breath of cold wind. The battlefield was set.

She stood at Aro's left, hands folded into the folds of her heavy cloak. Crimson eyes watched the approaching figures: a vampire couple, a child between them, and a tall man trailing close behind.

Edward. Bella. Jacob Black.

The girl... the half-breed.

Renesmee.

Helena's brows furrowed. She knew this moment.

She had lived it.

In another life.

A flickering dream of popcorn, glowing screens, and a teenage girl in another world—a world where the Twilight Saga was fiction. She remembered the books, the movies, the lore. The wolves. The battle that was never fought.

In that life, Helena was ordinary. But when death found her, she had not passed on. She had awakened here, reborn into darkness and power.

And she would rewrite the ending.

She had informed the Volturi about the child. Used Tanya—naïve, jealous Tanya—as her mouthpiece. Tanya stood now on their side, eyes distant, unsure. Aro welcomed her presence. Caius relished it.

But Helena... Helena watched the tree line.

Where are the wolves?

In the story she remembered, they had already shifted. Already growling. Already prepared to charge.

But here? Nothing.

No wolves.

Only snow.

And one man.

She didn't understand him.

He wasn't part of the story.

She didn't even know his name. A nomad? A stray vampire? Someone insignificant?

When Tanya tried to step forward, guilt written all over her face, Helena felt a bitter satisfaction as Caius executed her without hesitation.

The story diverged.

Chaos began.

Then came the sound.

Not a howl. A shockwave.

The woods exploded.

Massive creatures charged—towering monsters, like nightmares born from the Van Helsing movie. Wolves unlike any she remembered.

These weren't Twilight wolves.

These were something else.

Upgraded. But how? Who had that power?

Helena's confusion mounted into horror as her guards fell. The wolves were fast, intelligent. Speaking. Coordinating.

Then the stranger emerged.

Not running. Walking.

A great silver grey wolf with glowing sapphire and emerald eyes wearing armor.

A presence of unmatched calm. Cold. Commanding.

And when he shifted—when that towering beast dissolved into a man standing tall with two gleaming katanas and no fear in his eyes—Helena knew.

He was here for her.

They met in the air. Spell collided with spell.

She summoned infernos. He erased them with a wave.

She tore open the ground with blood magic. He floated above it with ease.

Every spell she cast—he countered it.

She screamed, "Who are you?!"

He smiled darkly. "Just the exterminator."

"You're using wizard magic," she hissed. "You're using my magic. How do you know it?"

He snorted. "Oh sweetheart, you thought you were the only one who watched Harry Potter movies in your past life?"

Her eyes widened. "You're... you're reincarnated too?"

"Bingo." He flicked his wand, effortlessly countering her bolt of fire with a swirl of blue frost. "You're not special, Helena. Just... loud."

Her hands shook with rage. "You've no right to interfere. This world is mine. I was chosen. I watched it all—I know how this story ends."

"You watched it. I was sent here." His eyes glinted. "There's a difference. You came to play tyrant. I came to clean up."

"By who?" she barked.

"The Department of Afterlife Management," he replied casually. "They didn't like what you were cooking down here—balance-breaking nonsense and end-of-world melodrama. So, they called pest control."

Helena snarled and launched three spells in quick succession. Dark, vicious. Forbidden.

He parried them with a grin, sidestepped like it was choreography. "You've got flair, I'll give you that. But you've watched the movies. You know how this ends."

"No," she spat. "This is my world now. I know what's coming—"

"Then you should've prepared for me."

He raised his wand.

"Avada Kedavra."

The green bolt struck her chest. Her body stilled, eyes frozen wide in disbelief.

Ash to snow.

And she never learned his name.

While Jon and Helena's duel lit the sky with magic and fury, the true battlefield below was a storm of chaos—and triumph.

The upgraded La Push pack struck first. With terrifying speed and monstrous strength, they charged into the Volturi ranks like a tidal wave. Their claws tore through black-cloaked guards, their snarls echoed with the intelligence of warriors rather than beasts. For the first time in centuries, the Volturi faced something they could not predict, something they could not control.

Sam Uley led the first wave, his transformed state towering above any ordinary wolf, nearly humanoid in its grace and power. Behind him, Jacob Black and the rest of the pack moved in unison, a wall of vengeance and justice.

The Volturi faltered.

And then the allied vampires struck.

Garrett, Benjamin, Zafrina, and others fell upon the disoriented Volturi lines like lightning. Elemental powers mixed with centuries of war experience. Fire met ice, illusion cloaked strikes, and strength met brutality.

The battlefield became an opera of destruction—and the chorus was one of freedom.

Not a single ally fell. No vampire, no wolf. The new werewolves—faster, smarter, tougher—were immune to standard vampire attacks. Their regenerative ability, combined with their enhanced strength, made them the ultimate predators.

Caius was torn in half by a growling Paul.

Alec tried to cast his mind-numbing fog, only to be lifted by Quil in his new form and thrown like a ragdoll into a wall of flame summoned by Benjamin.

Jane screamed her pain-inducing gaze—only for it to reflect uselessly off the magical shield Bella conjured, and then vanish forever under a coordinated barrage from Leah and Rosalie.

It wasn't a battle.

It was a message.

Aro, the once-mighty voice of law, saw the end coming. He tried to flee—but Jacob stopped him.

"You don't run from judgment," the Alpha said, his eyes glowing as he stepped forward.

He didn't need to attack.

Vladimir and Stefan finished him. And now their revenge is complete.

And with that, the Volturi were no more.

The silence afterward was deafening. The snow soaked in black cloaks and ashes. The wind whispered through the pines.

But no one mourned.

Only cheers followed.

They had won.

The supernatural world would never be the same again.

Snow had stopped falling.

The battlefield was silent, save for the crackling of fire as the remnants of the Volturi cloaks burned in one final cleansing blaze. Jon stood near the treeline, arms folded across his chest, his sword sheathed, and wand tucked back into the rune along his wrist. Victory hung in the air like smoke—earned, clean, and satisfying.

But the victory was not without its price. Not in lives, thankfully. No, the price was emotional. A closing chapter. An end to a world he had grown used to. Friends he'd made. A niece who adored him. A pack of growling, loyal brothers-in-arms. And a golden-haired vampire who'd once whispered with hope in her eyes.

They all returned to the Cullen house, tired but triumphant. The mood was high—jokes, laughter, food (at least for the humans), stories from the battle. Renesmee sat on Jon's lap, curled up like a sleepy kitten, as he regaled her and Seth with tales of fictional dragons that may or may not have been real.

Then he stood.

The room quieted immediately.

Jon smiled faintly. "Alright, here comes the part where you all hate me for a bit. I'm leaving."

The silence was a gut punch.

"Wait, what?" Bella asked, rising slightly from the couch.

"You're leaving?" Jacob's tone was sharp, half-angry.

Renesmee's eyes widened, tears already forming. "No... no, you can't—"

Rosalie didn't say anything. She just froze.

"Why now?" Esme asked gently, her hands pressed together.

"Because I've done what I came to do. The balance is restored, the Volturi's leash has been snapped, and you all are stronger than ever. My job's done," Jon said. "And I don't stick around to become the house pet wizard. That's bad branding."

"You could stay," Emmett offered. "You've got your own room now. Even decorated it with swords."

"I don't need a room. I need motion. And there are other places where chaos tips the scales. I need to be there."

Renesmee clutched his coat. "Take me with you."

Jon knelt and kissed her forehead. "You have your family here, little wolf. You're their heart. They need you more than I do."

Seth's bottom lip wobbled. "But... we were gonna summon a dragon."

"I left the spellbook in your backpack," Jon whispered. "Practice responsibly. Don't torch La Push."

"You can't just go," Rosalie said, finally speaking. Her voice trembled. "Not like this. Not after everything."

Jon looked at her. "Rosalie... I would stay for you. I would stay for the light in your eyes. But I made a promise long ago to someone who's no longer in this world 'Technically Daphne is not in this world'. That promise binds me as tightly as any bond."

"You still have a choice," she said, pleading.

He shook his head. "If I stay, I break the only part of myself I still consider sacred."

Her face cracked, but she didn't cry. She just nodded and turned away.

Then came the rest of the world.

Garrett approached with a sly grin. "If I'd had magic during the American Revolution, I would've ended it in a week. You made fighting fun again, wizard."

Jon snorted. "Coming from a vampire in a leather trench coat, I'll take that as a compliment."

Benjamin clapped his hands. "I've bent the elements, but I've never seen anyone bend reality. That was inspiring."

Jon bowed slightly. "Elemental kings should have their time in the sun too."

Zafrina gave him a respectful nod. "You have spirit, Jon Bonds. If you ever wander into the Amazon, look for the red moon. We'll share stories."

"You had me at jungle vacation."

Even Kate, Tanya's grieving sister, gave him a quiet thanks. "You avenged her. That means more than I can say."

"You deserved better closure," he replied. "But maybe this world's healing can start here."

As groups began to depart, exchanging contacts through enchanted amulets and burner phones alike, a solemn circle gathered.

Vladimir and Steffan stepped forward.

"We have watched the Volturi rule with fear for far too long," Vladimir said. "Now that the throne is dust, someone must see the rules are kept."

Steffan added, "We will not become tyrants. But we will not let chaos reign either."

Jon looked around. Every vampire and wolf nodded their approval. Even Carlisle.

"You've earned it," Carlisle said. "Keep peace, not power."

"We shall."

With that, groups began to depart. Hugs, firm handshakes, old war stories shared with chuckles. Garrett joked about fighting Napoleon. Zafrina recalled wrestling jungle beasts. The wolves rolled their eyes but listened with wonder.

Seth and Quil tried to ride on Emmett's shoulders while he challenged Benjamin to an arm-wrestling contest.

"Men," sighed Esme.

"We're warriors," Jon replied, "not saints."

And finally, Jon walked to his sleek black Godzilla car, now spotless from the battle. He opened the door, looked back one last time.

Every face watched him.

He lifted a hand.

And drove.

The snow thinned as he passed through the mountain pass. By the time he was an hour out from Seattle, he pulled over to a cliffside road, the wind whipping his hair.

He smiled.

"Storage rune: activate."

The Godzilla blinked out of existence into a shimmering vortex.

Jon stood alone, cracked his neck, and murmured Freyja's name 3 time.

Reality warped.

The next moment, he stood once more in the white room of eternity.

Before him, the Power Wheel shimmered in golden light, ancient and humming with fate.

Jon smirked.

"Well, what's next?"

And he spun it.