Harry Potter: A Typical Man(SI OC)

There's something distinctly uncomfortable about standing on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters in full wizarding garb after spending an entire summer basking in the silky luxury of muggle fashion. My blue leather jacket clashed with the dark Hogwarts robes slung over my arm, and I swear I heard the clothing mutter a complaint.

The sky was overcast, as if it too resented the start of the school year.

My trunk was already loaded onto the train. Beside me, Astoria Greengrass—first year, wide-eyed, and currently trying to look composed—clutched a majestic red-tailed hawk perched confidently on her gloved arm. The hawk, Vajra, was no ordinary bird. He was Jon's thunderbird partner, and currently Astoria's co-conspirator in all things mischievous. The two had become fast friends over the summer, much to everyone's surprise and mild concern.

"Just remember what we talked about," Daphne said, adjusting her sister's collar. "No phoenix powers in public. Not unless it's life or death. Got it?"

Astoria nodded solemnly. "I got it. I pinkie swear."

"She's taking this very seriously," Jon noted, approaching with his usual casual swagger. "Probably more than we ever did when we were her age."

"Because we were disasters," I muttered. "Beautiful, charming, dangerously well-dressed disasters."

Jon laughed. "Oh! And Astoria, be careful with Vajra. He's a bit of a show-off when there's lightning around."

"He told me," she said calmly.

"...Told you?"

"Yep," Astoria said, beaming. "In my head. He said I have phoenix fire, and he has thunder in his blood. We're kindred spirits."

I blinked. "Right. Of course. This is fine. Everything is fine."

Daphne sighed and dragged Jon and me toward the train.

As we boarded, Cedric and Delphina Greengrass appeared in their dramatic wizarding robes—clearly uncomfortable after being seduced by muggle fashion all summer.

"Astoria," Cedric said, voice firm but warm. "Do not under any circumstances use your phoenix powers in public."

"I know," Astoria said. "I won't."

"Daphne," Delphina added, "watch your sister. And Jon—"

"Yup?" Jon blinked innocently.

"If anything happens to either of them, I will flay you magically and socially."

"Understood," Jon said brightly.

Cedric pulled Jon aside for a moment. "Also, if you plan another 'boys' night out,' let me know. I want in. This time I drive. I'll woo everyone."

Delphina's glare across the platform darkened.

Cedric visibly shrunk. I almost felt bad.

Jon saluted Cedric dramatically. "My hands are tied, sir."

I clapped Jon on the back. "He's not making it past tonight."

Cedric slumped away toward his wife like a man sentenced to magical execution.

We claimed a quiet compartment. Astoria sat with Vajra perched on the windowsill, both looking smugly regal. Daphne raised a ward. Jon sprawled across from me.

"How was Malfoy Manor?" he asked.

"Dull. Silent. Judgemental. Mum's portrait sneered at my aftershave."

"Didn't she love you?"

"She loved standards. Apparently I've slipped."

"How's your devil fruit control?"

I raised a hand and crackled a small bolt of lightning across my knuckles. "Much better. I can direct it. No more accidental wand zapping."

"Handy in duels," Daphne said.

"Even handier when I'm being ignored," I added. "A well-placed spark at someone's shoelace works wonders."

Jon turned. "Draco, Astoria told me you talked to her about the fruit powers?"

I nodded. "Yeah. She was nervous. I told her about mine. She told me hers."

"Phoenix," Jon said softly.

"Powerful," I added. "Rare. And way too easy to notice. She's doing well, though."

Astoria waved from the window. Vajra flapped his wings, sending a tiny crackle of thunder through the glass.

"Are we letting them be partners in crime?" I asked.

Jon leaned back. "We're trying to contain it. Letting it happen is just damage control at this point."

We laughed, then talked about the wedding, the cake, Daphne catching the bouquet, and whether or not Cedric was still alive.

Then came the chill.

It started like an echo in the bones—a slow, icy pull at the corners of the compartment. The windows fogged. Vajra ruffled his feathers and let out a sharp cry. Astoria clutched her arms. Daphne's hand tightened around her wand. Even Jon sat up straighter.

I knew what it was before I saw them.

The lights in the corridor flickered as the temperature plunged. My breath fogged in front of me. The door rattled.

Dementors.

They drifted slowly past the glass like shadows submerged underwater, faceless and silent but so loud in the way they made your hope shrivel.

Astoria was trembling. Even Vajra, proud thunderbird that he was, hopped uneasily. That was enough.

I stood up.

"Draco?" Jon asked.

I flicked my wand up, voice sharp and sure: "Expecto Patronum!"

From my wand exploded light. Pure, radiant, blinding light. A white peacock soared out, its feathers glittering like diamond dust, tail sweeping behind it in a majestic arc. The corridor was bathed in moonlight.

The dementors reeled back at the sight of it. My Patronus strutted forward, fully corporeal, and with a flare of wings, chased them off like shadows beneath a dawn.

The compartment exhaled.

"Bloody hell," Jon said, grinning. "You've been practicing."

Daphne stared, somewhere between shocked and impressed. "A peacock, Draco?"

I smirked. "They're vain. Beautiful. Protective. A perfect choice."

"I think you just like birds that match your wardrobe," Jon quipped.

Astoria whispered, "That was the prettiest thing I've ever seen." Vajra nodded in solemn agreement, because of course he did.

The door slid open with a soft hiss.

Standing there was a man in worn robes, with tired eyes and a kind smile. Slightly scruffy. Calm.

"Excuse me," he said, scanning us all. "I'm Remus Lupin. I'll be your new Defence Against the Dark Arts professor."

His eyes landed on the fading shimmer of my Patronus, the last of the peacock's tail drifting into sparks.

"Who cast the Patronus?" he asked.

I raised my hand.

He blinked. His eyes widened.

"You're… Draco Malfoy?" he said slowly.

"Last I checked."

He stared a moment longer. Then, to everyone's surprise, he smiled. "Well, Mr. Malfoy… I'm impressed. That was a fully formed corporeal Patronus. Very advanced magic."

I nodded, trying not to grin too smugly. "Thank you, sir."

Lupin's face softened. "Not many students your age can do that. And… not many raised the way you were would've been taught how. That's something to be proud of."

There was a beat of silence. I could feel everyone glancing at me.

Then Lupin turned to the rest. "Everyone alright?"

We nodded.

He gave one more nod and a soft, approving smile. "Good. I'll check on the next compartment."

He was almost gone when he paused.

"Mr. Malfoy," he added, looking back. "You don't have to be who they expect you to be."

And then he was gone.

I sat back down slowly.

Jon nudged me. "So… Patronus? Heroic save? Recognition from a respected professor? That's like... a hat trick for you, isn't it?"

"Shut up, Bonds."

Daphne leaned in and kissed my cheek. "Not bad for the son of Lucius Malfoy."

"I'm better than Lucius," I said without hesitation.

"Yeah," Jon added. "And definitely more fashionable."

But I kept thinking about the bird in the window.

About the girl with phoenix fire and a hawk full of thunder.

About the light we all carry, even if we weren't meant to.

And as the train rolled on toward Hogwarts, Astoria rested her head on Vajra's wing.

I closed my eyes, lightning still dancing on my fingertips.

-----

Astoria eventually dozed off, curled on Daphne's lap, her small hand still half-closed around a feather from Vajra. The hawk stood guard above her like a mythic sentinel. Daphne, in turn, leaned into Jon's side, her head resting gently on his shoulder, their fingers loosely interlocked in quiet affection.

I watched them for a moment, a rare softness brushing the edge of my usual sarcasm. Then Jon looked at me with a lopsided grin.

"So… back to important topics. Let's talk fashion, music, and—obviously—cars."

I grinned. "Modern fashion has layers, Jon. Literal and figurative. Do you know how freeing it is to wear jeans and jackets that actually fit?"

"And the belts," Jon added. "Don't forget the belts. Magical Britain still thinks those things are optional."

"Don't even get me started on robes," I groaned. "Wearing those again feels like stepping into a damp curtain."

We both laughed.

"And the music," Jon said. "Muggle music slaps, and you know it."

"I may or may not have an entire playlist enchanted into a bracelet," I confessed.

"Genre?"

"Electro-swing. With a side of rock ballads. Fight me."

Jon chuckled. "No fight. Respect."

Then our tone shifted as Jon nudged me. "You think anyone's going to recognize Snape at the Hogwarts staff table?"

I laughed. "Absolutely not. They'll think someone polyjuiced into him. 'Oh look, it's a tall, sharply-dressed man with actual charm and a wedding ring—can't be Snape.'"

"They don't know he's married to a goddess," Jon added with a dreamy sigh.

"And they certainly don't know he has style now. I mean, did you see him in that black suit? The man looked like he could front a rock band and command a death squad at the same time."

Jon grinned. "True. But here's the question—how are your secret riding lessons with him going?"

I puffed up. "I can drift now."

Jon blinked. "You what?"

"I can drift. Not as good as you or Snape, obviously—you two are basically automotive legends—but still. I hit a roundabout last month and didn't crash. Progress."

"You're officially a convert," Jon declared. "Welcome to the dark side. We have traction control and heated seats."

"And tail-lights that say 'get wrecked' to broomsticks," I added with a smirk.

A new year. A new storm.

Let's see what we burn.

----

There's something almost comforting about the clamor of the Great Hall—floating candles swaying overhead, golden plates glimmering under enchanted chandeliers, and the chaotic din of overexcited students piling into their house tables after a long summer apart. You could bottle the chaos and sell it as a perfume: Back-to-School Madness, with notes of nostalgia and pumpkin juice.

I wasn't sitting at the Ravenclaw table.

Instead, I was at Slytherin's, flanked by Daphne on one side and Draco on the other, which earned me a solid ten seconds of glares, raised eyebrows, and confused whispering from half the Slytherin students nearby.

"Why is a Ravenclaw here?" someone hissed.

Draco didn't even blink. "Because Jon Bonds is Professor Snape's personal apprentice," he said coolly, shooting a sharp look around. "He's also in the same year as us—third year. We're all fourteen, in case anyone forgot how numbers work. If you've got a problem with it, feel free to duel him after he teaches you how to breathe again. Or better yet—take it up with Professor Snape himself. I'm sure he'd love to make you regret every syllable."

That shut them up nicely.

Draco smirked. Daphne winked at me. I popped a grape and leaned back just a little.

Across the table, a few of them stared like I'd just been handed a Slytherin passport.

Draco Malfoy had been acting like he was part wolf, part caffeine-deprived addict.

"I swear to Merlin," Draco muttered, his silver eyes locked on Hermione Granger across the hall like she was the moon and he was an emotionally confused werewolf. "If they serve only pumpkin juice again, I might hex the goblets."

"You good, Malfoy?" I asked, even though I was clearly enjoying the chaos bubbling inside his soul.

He huffed and whispered. "I've been seduced."

I blinked. "Come again?"

"By muggle beverages, Jon. They have flavor profiles. Do you know what it's like to drink a vanilla coke, milkshake, Blue lagoon and Fanta after all my life of pumpkin sludge? I can't go back. My tongue has standards now."

I tried not to laugh. I really did. But the way he said it—with all the doom of a Shakespearean tragedy—broke me. I snorted into my goblet.

"And look at him," Draco added, nodding toward the staff table. "Our dear Snape. Back in his Hogwarts form—long robes, hair like it lost a fight with a cauldron, glaring at Lupin like he's about to recite every grudge alphabetically."

I followed his gaze. Yup. That was the Snape we knew.

"Is that grease in his hair?" I asked.

"It's Snape essence, probably brewed to perfection."

"Man changes like a bloody metamorphmagus. One minute he's making women faint in a tailored suit and cars with Diana on his arm, next minute he's back to 'I will deduct house points for breathing too loud.'"

Draco sighed. "They don't even know he's married. He's out here role-playing his old self while the truth sits like a secret society."

It was true. Besides Draco, Daphne, Astoria and me, no one knew about the wedding. The rest of the school still believed Snape slept in his dungeons, whispering insults to spiders.

A loud thunk echoed as the Sorting Hat settled on a tiny girl with intense blue eyes and a subtle smirk.

"GREENGRASS, ASTORIA!"

Draco sat up a little straighter.

Astoria walked up calmly, arms at her sides, carrying herself with all the poise of her bloodline and a girl who had befriended a thunderbird. The hat barely touched her head.

"Slytherin!" it bellowed.

Our table erupted in cheers, and I gave a small clap as she joined us, sitting proudly next to her sister, who tried to look neutral but was clearly glowing inside.

Dumbledore rose at that point, arms spread wide.

"Welcome back, students, both new and old! Another year, another chance for wonder, magic, friendship, and far too many exams."

Polite laughter. A few groans.

"Before we begin the feast," he continued, "a few announcements. First, we are joined this year by Professor Remus Lupin, who will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts."

Scattered applause followed. Lupin gave a humble nod from his seat, while Snape's expression turned into something carved from stone.

"I see Snape's thrilled," I whispered.

"Ecstatic," Draco said. "I think his eye just twitched."

"I'd say they had history, but Snape only has vendettas."

Draco nodded solemnly. "He probably alphabetized them by pain level."

Dumbledore raised a hand again. "Second, I must address the matter of the dementors. As some of you may have noticed, our train was visited by these… rather unpleasant guests."

Whispers shot through the hall like wildfire.

"Thankfully," Dumbledore continued, "no one was harmed. And in an act of impressive magical skill, one of our own students drove the dementors away with a fully formed Patronus charm."

You could hear the jaws drop.

"I am pleased to award one hundred points to Slytherin… and an additional fifty to Draco Malfoy, for his bravery and magical excellence."

Silence. Shock.

And then, slow, stunned clapping.

I turned toward Draco, who looked both proud and slightly smug. Across the hall, Hermione Granger was staring at him like he'd just stood up and spoken fluent unicorn.

Draco gave her a half-smile, the smug little sparkle barely contained.

She blinked, then looked down at her plate like it had betrayed her entire worldview.

"I'm putting that on a plaque," I muttered. "Draco Malfoy: Patronus Caster, Granger Breaker."

"I am incredible," Draco said quietly.

Daphne reached across Astoria and smacked him lightly on the arm. "Don't get cocky, peacock."

The feast finally began, dishes appearing like a banquet explosion. Roast chicken, potatoes, pumpkin pasties, and something I suspected was treacle tart in disguise.

We ate. We laughed. We whispered about classes. I may have telepathically told Vajra to not dive-bomb the Gryffindor table. He only sort of listened.

And through it all, I kept glancing at the staff table, watching Snape sneer, watching Lupin smile gently, and watching our secrets sit quietly behind layers of performance.

Yeah.

It was gonna be one hell of a year.