Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

The thing about summer breaks is that they're supposed to be relaxing. Peaceful. Maybe even a little boring, if you're lucky. But when you're engaged to the Ice Queen of Slytherin, have a hyperactive Phoenix-child flying around your head, and a literal thunderbird as the second half of that chaos combo, well—"relaxing" isn't even in the same solar system.

The moment Daphne and I stepped off the train and returned to Greengrass Manor, I could feel the peace evaporating like mist under the sun. The air shimmered with heat—and chaos.

"Uncle Jonnnnnnnnnn!"

Astoria.

Before I could dodge, a flaming blur collided with me like a living comet. I staggered back, arms flailing, only barely managing to stay upright as a now fully transformed hybrid phoenix-child clung to me like a koala set on fire.

"You're back! You're back! Vajra and I were waiting and we made fireworks in the barn and Mummy yelled but then Vajra turned invisible and—oh, oh, wait till you see my new trick!"

"God help me," I muttered, sending Daphne a look that screamed save me. She didn't. In fact, she smirked and folded her arms, enjoying my suffering.

"Don't call me uncle," I groaned as Astoria fluttered off me and hovered in the air like a smug little flame goddess.

"But you're going to be my brother-in-law, and you're OLD!" she declared with a sing-song tone.

"I'm thirteen."

"Exactly."

The next few days were a living fever dream.

Astoria and Vajra had officially entered their Menace Era.

The moment I tried to sit and read in the garden, a thunderbolt exploded a gnome statue three feet to my left. When I tried hiding in the library, Vajra crashed through the window with Astoria riding on his back, both of them shrieking like banshees on a caffeine high.

"JON! JON! I figured out how to dive bomb and throw flame at the same time!"

"NO. NO FLAME INDOORS!"

Too late. One of the armchairs was now gently smoldering.

"Jesus Christ," I groaned, patting the fire out with my jacket.

Daphne and Lady Greengrass attempted to enforce a schedule. It lasted three hours.

"Vajra! Drop the hedge maze topiary! No, don't incinerate it!"

"Astoria, for the love of all things magical, stop trying to see if you can fly upside down under the dining table!"

Lord Greengrass tried to hold onto his dignity, which lasted until Astoria enchanted his mustache to curl like an antique teacup handle during a diplomatic tea meeting. With three pureblood guests.

Snape? Oh, he called once, then never visited again.

One particular afternoon, as I nursed a burn mark and sipped cold butterbeer, Daphne collapsed beside me on the lawn with a heavy groan.

"I swear," she said, face buried in the grass, "if she sets fire to one more tapestry, I will personally bury her Devil Fruit in the rose garden."

I chuckled weakly. "Remind me again why we thought it was a good idea to give a child the powers of a flaming immortal bird?"

"Because you said it would 'save her life,'" she grumbled. "Should've let you give her the magma fruit."

"That's even worse!"

A shriek cut through the air—Astoria riding a dive-bombing Vajra, flinging glowing fire feathers through the sky like some deranged Fourth of July celebration.

Daphne didn't even flinch.

"Your turn."

I sighed, stood, and muttered, "Time to negotiate with terrorists."

Lady Greengrass eventually went into a kind of serene fugue state. She no longer reacted to chaos. The last time Astoria ignited the hallway carpet, she just sipped her tea and calmly called for an elf with a fire extinguisher charm.

Lord Greengrass, however, was cracking.

"I was once feared at the Wizengamot," he muttered to himself as Vajra buzzed overhead like a bolt of caffeine-fueled lightning. "Now I can't even protect my fountain from bird droppings."

"It's good for the roses," I offered.

"GET. OUT."

One night, the whole house fell into silence. No explosions. No screaming. No flaming bed sheets.

Daphne and I crept down the hall like burglars.

"Do you think she's asleep?" she whispered.

"She has to be. It's midnight."

We peeked into Astoria's room.

There she was. Curled up, a small human-turned-phoenix in a blanket nest, snoring quietly. Vajra was curled beside her like a sleeping battery.

Peace.

I turned to Daphne and smiled.

She exhaled and rested her head on my shoulder. "We made it."

"For now."

"I'm never having more than one kid," she muttered.

I kissed the top of her head. "Deal."

And that, dear gods, was just week one.

Summer break, my ass.

I was already regretting my life choices when Severus Snape arrived at the Greengrass Manor looking like a brooding magazine model—with Diana Rockford, his gorgeous red-haired fiancée, hanging onto his arm like a scene from a luxury perfume ad.

To be fair, Daphne and I had already met Diana before—back when I helped Sev finally gather the courage to ask her out and Daphne met her during our late night riding session . But today's chaos wasn't about introductions. Oh, no. This was about the world learning a truth they were unprepared for:

Snape had game.

Delphina Greengrass choked on her tea.

Cedric Greengrass looked like he had seen Merlin reincarnated.

"Holy hell," Cedric whispered, elbowing me as he stared at Diana. "Is that... Diana Rockford? The muggle bookstore owner you told me about?"

"Yep," I replied, sipping my drink.

"She's... hot."

Delphina narrowed her eyes. "Excuse me?"

Cedric flinched. "I mean... hot as in temperature. She seems like a warm person. Like tea. Spicy tea."

Delphina crossed her arms. "You're already married to a perfectly good spicy tea."

"Best tea," Cedric corrected quickly. "Premium blend. No contest."

Snape, who had supernatural hearing when it came to Cedric's disbelief, smirked as he stepped further into the drawing room.

"Good afternoon to all of you," he said smoothly, his usual deep drawl suddenly laced with casual warmth.

Diana beamed and gave everyone a sweet wave. "Hi! I've heard so much about all of you."

Cedric leaned toward Snape and whispered, "Do you have a redhead fetish or something? Lily, and now Diana?"

Snape shot him a sideways glance. "Maybe."

Cedric's jaw dropped.

"I hate that answer even more," he muttered under his breath.

Daphne, standing beside me, just crossed her arms with a smirk. "And that, gentlemen, is what we call effortless charm."

I held back a laugh. Snape smirked smugly as he adjusted his obsidian black leather jacket like a man who absolutely knew he was killing it.

Lord Cedric Greengrass entered next, pausing mid-step when he saw Diana. He blinked. Then blinked again.

"Severus," he said slowly, "when you said you were bringing someone... I didn't expect..."

"A real person?" Snape offered dryly.

"...a goddess," Lord Cedric finished, blinking again. "Forgive me."

Delphina Greengrass, ever the composed matriarch, nodded in approval. "She's lovely, Severus."

"Thank you, ma'am," Diana said with a polite smile. "And thank you for having me."

Astoria peeked from behind her mother, eyes gleaming with curiosity. "Are you going to marry Professor Grumpy?"

Snape sighed. "Yes, Astoria."

"Poor lady," Astoria said, sighing dramatically.

And that was the moment Daphne face-palmed. Delphina snorted. Cedric broke into full-on laughter. I simply clapped Astoria on the head lightly. "I think she'll survive."

"Oh, I will," Diana winked. "He's a softie. Don't let the cloak fool you."

Snape groaned.

Then came the apocalypse. Wedding shopping in Muggle London. Diana had invited all the Greengrass women—Delphina, Daphne, and of course, Astoria. And they dragged us with them.

As soon as we arrived, the Greengrass ladies were instantly dazzled by London. Lights, music, smells, endless shops—Muggle London was a world away from the conservative elegance of wizarding high society.

"Oh my heavens," Delphina whispered, looking at a glittery window full of high-end fashion. "We've been living like cloaked hermits."

"I want ten of those," Daphne declared, pointing at a boutique filled with summer dresses.

"I want everything," Astoria squealed, already pulling Diana's hand.

Even Cedric stood mouth agape at the neon signs and giant LED screens. "I thought Muggles were supposed to be boring."

Then the first shop happened.

From that moment on, it was war.

The ladies disappeared into a world of fabrics and fragrances, while Cedric, Snape, and I devolved into beasts of burden. Shopping bags piled up. The women spun through boutiques like they were on a televised fashion game show.

Delphina discovered lipstick that changed color based on mood. Daphne was seduced by a leather jacket with hidden zippers. Astoria bought sunglasses, hats, and things that didn't even fit her.

"This is it," Cedric muttered as he stared at another dress rack. "This is how I die."

Snape, holding at least 40 bags, said with the driest tone imaginable, "We are witnessing a level of retail warfare previously unknown to wizardkind."

I whispered, "My feet. I can't feel my feet."

When Diana asked if he liked her eleventh outfit, Snape nodded with a blank expression. "You look radiant. Please don't ask again."

Meanwhile, Cedric had an existential crisis in a perfume aisle.

"Jon," he whispered. "What is bergamot? Why does it matter?"

"I don't know, man. Just nod and say 'refreshing.'"

Eventually, Snape deadpanned, "This is what Azkaban was like, right? Just more cheerful."

Delphina returned, arms full of lotions and creams. "Severus, do you think this lavender toner complements my skin tone?"

He nodded once, slowly. "Absolutely."

"I haven't even shown you yet."

"I could feel it."

Just when we thought we were done for, Diana casually suggested visiting a high-end Muggle car showroom.

And like that, everything changed.

The Greengrass women were stunned into silence. Delphina blinked rapidly. Astoria clutched Daphne's sleeve. Cedric looked like someone had handed him the Holy Grail.

Snape and I? We came back to life.

We entered the showroom like warlords. Shiny Ferraris, Lamborghinis, Jaguars, and McLarens gleamed under soft spotlights like museum relics from a futuristic society.

"This... this is what the Muggles ride in?" Cedric whispered, awed.

"Yes," I replied with pride. "These are gods among machines."

Snape ran his hand over a matte black McLaren. "The engine's a twin-turbo V8, 710 horsepower. Zero to sixty in under 2.8 seconds."

Diana leaned toward Delphina. "Told you. He turns into another man around cars."

Delphina nodded, still speechless. "It's... beautiful."

Astoria tugged on Daphne. "Can we fly one?"

"Drive," Daphne corrected.

Snape and I began detailing each car, becoming living encyclopedias of speed and engineering.

Then came the test drive. Snape took the wheel of a Porsche 911 Turbo S, dragging a still-confused Cedric into the passenger seat.

"Hold on," Snape warned.

They disappeared in a squeal of tires and thunder. Twenty minutes later, they returned.

Cedric stumbled out, eyes wide, hair windswept. He placed a trembling hand on the hood and muttered reverently, "I've seen the gates of Valhalla... and they're made of carbon fiber and engine oil."

We clapped him on the back.

And then, in that sacred moment of rebirth, I placed a firm hand on his shoulder. "Cedric Greengrass… welcome to the dark side."

Snape raised a hand dramatically. "We have horsepower."

Cedric looked up with teary-eyed solemnity. "I accept the darkness. With pride."

Diana and Delphina stared, utterly baffled.

"We've lost them," Daphne muttered.

-----

We escaped. Barely. We were battle-worn, emotionally shattered, and poor Cedric had glitter on his shirt.

We collapsed into the manor den. Leather chairs welcomed us like war veterans returned from the frontlines.

"We did it," Cedric groaned, slumping into his chair.

"Did we?" I asked. "I think part of my soul's still in that shoe aisle."

Snape poured whiskey into tumblers without a word. We each took one.

"To surviving," Cedric said.

"To never doing this again," I added.

Snape raised his glass. "To shared trauma."

And we drank.

For a moment, peace.

Then, in that moment of silence, Cedric said, "You know… for the first time in history, we all agree on something."

Snape nodded. "Let the record show: we do not go shopping with our women. Ever. Again."

"Sworn by blood," I said.

"Sworn by whiskey," Cedric added.

We leaned back, cigars lit, and looked at the ceiling like survivors.

Then Diana poked her head in. "Boys! We need opinions on nail polish colors!"

Snape visibly aged ten years.

"No," he whispered.

And somewhere deep in the manor, Astoria laughed the laugh of chaos reborn.