1st September 1991,
The Yorkshire Dale,
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, I easily rose from the bed and made my way to the bathroom, having been woken up by one of the day-to-day charms I learned from the morning hygiene spell book I bought from Diagon alley.
I should have learned those on training space but... I forgot.
I caught my reflection in the mirror, I couldn't help but look.
I was by no means the next Mr. Olmypia or anything, but my body definitely looked different from most my age.
Though lean, it had more sculpted and toned, six-pack and everything.
Yeah I can say training with Gun really did pay off.
My body fucking looked like him.
I got some rune work done on my chest and arm, more specially storage rune.
Help me store my weapons and vehicles. I can carry them around any where I want.
These storage rune really helped me during my hunts in these 2 years.
I returned from the bathroom.
Then I packed school and other important stuffs inside my enchanted trunk.
After I packed everything and feed meats to Bajra, I took out 4 boxes under my bed and opened it.
And here are my prized weapons. My trusty and beloved comrades during my hunts.
A fully customized and tactically modified HK 437, a Mooseberg 500 fully customized. I got 2 deagles a White and a Black one. And last but not least a fully customized M-24 sniper rifle.
And for dessert I got a hidden blade made from high grade carbon steel, specially 1095 and Titanium with thunder and poison rune engraved on it.
Have to find a really good black smith for this.
Man these boys have done wonders in my hand. I got some rune works on my weapons so they don't face any problem in the magical world.
I channeled some mana to the runes on my arms and chest and stored them inside.
Got two special rune on the right arm near my wrist for the hidden blade and my wand The Zærgrim.
Man now I got the technology problem in magical world sorted out, these baddies going to be very useful in certain situations.
By no means I am going to get myself involved in the main plot but as the years pass things are going to get dangerous so better be safe than sorry.
After I sort out everything, I left for the Kings Cross station.
Time Skip,
Few Hours,
I passed through the barrier on Platform 9¾, the platform was
relatively empty aside from a handful of older students.
The train looked cool, I was never really a train person more of a flight person but not gonna lie it's still cool. Giving a full on modern fantasy vibe.
After handing over the ticket Professor McGonagall had given me and getting the approval of one of the staff to hop on, I found an empty compartment rather easily, took a seat, retrieved a Sci-fi novel book from my 'pocket' more precisely ' The Jurassic Park' and got to reading while I waited.
Legilimens books were highly regulated and expensive so I couldn't buy them.
Not that I needed them, I already learned it from Dumbles during The training space.
The soft chug of the train beneath my feet reminded me of the slow, steady heartbeat of a beast awakening.
Steam curled like lazy ghosts outside the window, and I sat alone in the Hogwarts Express compartment, my duffel bag tucked neatly beside me and a sci-fi novel in my lap.
The scent of old parchment and train upholstery mingled in the air. Outside, green hills rolled away into the mist as we gained speed.
Despite the gentle rumble, my mind was alert—always alert. My line of work had made me that way.
Even surrounded by the chatter of first-years and the metallic clinks of luggage racks being slammed shut, I remained quiet, still.
Eyes scanning, ears tuned. The Hunts sharpened my senses.
No one had joined me yet. Which I didn't mind. Solitude was a comfort. Predictable. But the universe has a way of disturbing comfortable silences.
I was brought out of my thoughts as I heard a polite knock as the compartment door was gently opened.
Turning my attention to the entrance, I watched as the door slid open to reveal a white haired beauty.
The compartment door slid open with a soft clack.
I glanced up.
She stood framed by the corridor light like something out of an old painting—porcelain skin, long platinum-blonde hair cascading like frozen silk over her shoulder, and eyes a piercing, calculating shade of icy blue.
Her uniform fit her with perfect posture and ease, and her features had that unmistakable air of pure-blood elegance. Aristocratic. Regal. Cold.
' Ahhhh here comes the cold queen of Slytherin. Daphne Greengrass.'
For a second, she just stared.
Then her brow furrowed. "Is this seat taken?"
I closed the book and smiled slightly, inclining my head.
"Not at all. Please, come in."
She stepped in, dragging behind her an ornate, lacquered trunk that looked twice her size.
Her gaze swept the compartment as if she were inspecting a ballroom rather than a train car.
"I can help with that," I offered, standing.
"You don't have to—" she began, but I'd already stepped forward.
With a small breath, I raised my right hand.
No wand. No incantation. Just a subtle gesture, fingers curving as though sculpting air.
The trunk lifted gently from the ground as if gravity had become optional. Her lips parted.
The trunk hovered smoothly into the overhead rack and nestled itself into place without a sound. I turned back to her.
"All done," I said calmly.
Her eyes narrowed with open curiosity, as if I'd just casually performed necromancy.
"How did you do that?" she asked, voice sharp. Not accusing. More... intrigued.
I returned to my seat. "Practice."
She blinked. "No wand. No spell. And you didn't even mutter Latin under your breath like the rest of us hopeless fools."
I shrugged. "Practice," I repeated, cracking open my book again.
She didn't move for a second. I felt her studying me, reading me like one might read a suspicious scroll.
Finally, she sat down across from me, folding her legs with grace and composure. Then she tilted her head.
"Are you a fifth year?"
That made me chuckle. "No."
"Fourth?"
"Nope."
Her brows drew together. "You're not telling me you're a third year. With that kind of control?"
I bookmarked my page and closed the novel again, leaning forward slightly.
"I'm a first year. Just like you."
Silence.
Her eyes widened—not dramatically, but just enough for someone as composed as her.
"You're joking."
"I don't know you well enough to joke with you."
She tilted her head, her tone still skeptical.
"Then how is it possible that you can cast silently, without a wand, and do it with more elegance than most trained adults?"
I gave her a half-smile. "Like I said... practice."
There was a pause. Then she leaned back slowly, as if adjusting her perception of me in real time.
"I'm Daphne. Daphne Greengrass."
I nodded. "Jon. Jon Bonds."
Her eyes narrowed slightly, lips parting in surprise again. "Bonds. That's not a wizarding name. You're... Half-blood?"
"Muggle born," I replied. " No family. Or, well, none I know. I live alone all by myself in a old cottage I have."
Her expression shifted slightly—less cold, more calculating. But not cruel.
"All your life?" she asked. "Alone?"
I nodded once. "As long as I remember."
There was a long, thoughtful silence.
"And you learned magic," she said, slowly, "on your own."
I smiled faintly. "You can say that but at that moment I don't know it was magic."
' Ain't no way I am telling you I know about magic cuz I watched Harry Potter movie.'
Her eyes hadn't left my face. "You're saying you taught yourself wandless magic before you even knew what a wand or magic was?"
I gave a small shrug. "Everyone has hobbies."
That earned the tiniest ghost of a smile from her. Barely visible, but it was there.
She leaned back slightly, folding her arms. "Well, Jon Bonds. You're already the most interesting first year I've ever met."
"I'll take that as a compliment. Princess"
She nodded with a very small smile she tried to hide, then finally glanced out the window.
For a moment, the compartment was quiet again. Not cold. Not awkward. Just... quiet.
Comfortable.
I returned to my book, eyes scanning lines I'd already memorized.
Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed her studying me again. Not in suspicion. But... curiosity. Fascination, even.
I kept reading.
Let her wonder.
The silence between us was soft, not heavy. Every so often, I'd turn a page, and Daphne's eyes would flick to the motion like she was waiting for a hidden message. It was subtle—the way she kept glancing at me, trying not to seem like she was.
Eventually, her curiosity couldn't hold itself back.
"What book are you reading?" she asked.
I looked up. "A Sci-fi novel."
"And what is this sci..fi means?"
" It means Science Fiction or you can say muggle Fantasy."
She blinked. "You're reading a book without magic... on your way to a school for magic?"
"It's a good story," I said with a slight smirk.
She tilted her head again. "You're a strange one."
"Strange is better than boring."
She smiled. This time, fully. Just for a moment. Then it was gone.
"What's it about?" she asked.
"About animals that ruled over this planet millions years ago, before humanity evolved."
There was a brief pause.
She glanced out the window. "Sounds like fiction."
"It is," I replied. "But that doesn't mean it's untrue."
Daphne stared at me, long and thoughtful. Then she reached into her own bag, pulled out a crisp copy of A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration, and opened it without a word.
But her foot brushed mine under the table. Barely a graze.
And stayed there.
I didn't move it away.
Let her wonder.
The trolley witch came rolling down the corridor like some sort of cheerful cryptid. Her cart rattled and shimmered with candies I couldn't even name.
"Anything from the trolley, dears?" she called brightly.
I blinked. "Wait. That's real?"
Daphne chuckled. "You really didn't know?"
I shook my head, standing up to peer at the cart's offerings like an archaeologist discovering a cursed temple.
"Pumpkin Pasties, Chocolate Frogs, Licorice Wands... what is that?"
'I mean yeah I know what are these but seeing them in movies and in real life is a whole different thing.'
"Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans," she said, picking up a small box and holding it out to me. "They're exactly what they sound like. Every flavour."
I raised a brow. "Like strawberry and banana?"
"And earwax. And vomit."
I hesitated, took the box anyway.
She paid for a few items and sat back down as I cautiously popped a bean into my mouth. The taste hit instantly.
"Oh my god—what is this?!"
She burst into laughter. "What colour was it?"
"Greenish brown!"
"Could be bogey."
I gagged theatrically and dove for my water bottle. "This is evil. Why is this allowed?"
She was still laughing, her face alight in a way that made her look... softer. Younger. Less like an aristocrat and more like a kid.
"Here," she said, tossing me a Pumpkin Pasty. "Try that instead. It won't traumatize you."
I bit into it, and my eyebrows rose. "Okay... that's actually fire."
"See?"
I held up a chocolate frog next. "These jump?"
"Yes. You need to catch them fast."
"Right." I opened the box, and the frog immediately leapt for my face. I caught it mid-air without flinching, then slowly lowered it into my mouth.
'Assassin's reflex bitch.'
Daphne's eyebrows shot up. "That was... impressive."
I chewed thoughtfully. "Tastes like Hershey's, if Hershey's had a grudge."
She snorted.
Then, smirking, I reached into my own backpack and pulled out a Ziplock bag stuffed with Muggle snacks. Real Muggle magic.
"Okay, your turn," I said, sliding it over to her. "Welcome to the forbidden archive of real snacks."
Inside were Cadbury Dairy Milk bars—classic, creamy, and smooth like the old commercial song 'Kiss me, close your eyes and miss me', Crunchie bars that crackled like enchanted honeycombs, Flake bars so fragile they barely survived the trip, Yorkies that looked like chocolate bricks, Galaxy bars that melted on your fingers, Terry's Chocolate Orange segments, and an almost comically large bag of Maltesers.
There were gummy worms, spicy crisps, and sour belts coiled like neon scrolls of doom. I even fished out a pair of charmed bottles—one of Lucozade (in the nostalgic orange foil) and a chilled can of Tango, plus a tiny cold flask of Ribena, all enchanted with a low-level Cooling Charm so they stayed refreshingly cold.
Daphne blinked. "What... is all this?"
"Muggle greatness. Go on, pick your poison."
She plucked a sour belt and sniffed it. "It smells... dangerous."
"Pain is flavor, remember?"
She took a bite—and immediately scrunched her face like she'd been slapped.
"Oh my God," she choked out. "What is happening to my tongue?!"
I grinned. "That's the sour. Wait for the sweet."
A moment passed. Her eyes widened. "Okay. Okay that's—why don't we have these?!"
"Wizards haven't discovered the magic of artificial flavoring."
She tried a mini Dairy Milk bar next, and her eyes fluttered closed for a second. "This is smooth. Creamy. Better than Honeydukes."
"Blasphemy," I gasped.
She took another. "No, really. Your world is weird but... delicious."
"Welcome to Modernization."
She was laughing again, holding a Flake bar like it was made of ancient parchment. "This feels illegal."
"Only in six countries."
She threw a sour belt at me.
She turned to me after a few minutes of peaceful chewing. "Can you do more wandless magic?"
I arched an eyebrow. "As in... more than levitating your fifty-ton trunk?"
She rolled her eyes, but the smile lingered. "Yes. I mean smaller things. Controlled things."
I nodded slowly, set my book aside, and looked at the candy wrappers on the table between us.
Flicked my fingers.
The wrappers folded themselves into tiny origami birds and fluttered upward, dancing in midair.
With another twist of my wrist, they flew in a circle, then burst apart like glitter.
Daphne's mouth was slightly open.
I exhaled slowly. "It's like... there's a current in the air. I can feel it. All the time. I just bend it a little. No shouting Latin required."
She leaned forward. "Most trained wizards can't do that. And you're eleven."
I shrugged again. "I didn't have anyone else to rely on. Magic was the one thing I had."
Her voice softened. "Still. That's... terrifying. And amazing."
"Thanks?"
She laughed. "It was a compliment."
Just then, the door to our compartment slammed open.
Two tall boys—thick-necked, scowling, brutish—stepped inside without knocking. "Have you seen Draco?" one grunted.
Daphne stiffened instantly. "Crabbe. Goyle. No, we haven't."
Crabbe glanced at me and sneered. "Who's this? Doesn't look like a proper wizard."
I didn't say anything. Just looked at him.
Silent.
Still.
Unblinking.
The air felt heavier.
Goyle shifted. "What's your name, then?"
"Jon."
"That's not a wizard name."
Daphne's voice turned sharp. "Not everyone has to be named after constellations and dead ancestors."
Crabbe scoffed. "Muggle-born, then."
I didn't flinch.
Daphne stood up. "Get out."
Crabbe opened his mouth, but then froze. Maybe it was the way I was looking at him. Or the way the air felt. Like something just beneath the surface was waiting.
They left.
Daphne sat down again, jaw tight. "Idiots."
"Thanks," I said.
She looked at me. "You didn't need me to say anything. You could've hexed them without moving."
I smirked. "True. But watching you roast them was more fun."
The door slammed open again.
A girl with bushy brown hair poked her head in. "Excuse me, have either of you seen a toad? A boy named Neville lost one."
"No," Daphne said curtly.
"Okay! Thanks!" The girl was about to leave, then noticed me.
"You're holding a book! What's it called?"
"The Jurassic Park," I said.
"Oh. You know, you should read something educational, like Hogwarts: A History. Or maybe—"
"I'll survive, thanks."
She looked offended, sniffed, and stormed out.
Daphne blinked. "Who was that?"
"No idea."
"She's exhausting."
We both laughed.
Later, I closed my book and leaned back, stretching. The sun was dipping low, painting the sky in warm streaks of orange and pink.
Daphne was watching me again.
"What are you most excited about?" she asked softly. "At Hogwarts?"
I thought about it.
"Everything and nothing," I said finally. "I'm just a typical guy going with the flow."
She stared at me.
For once, Daphne Greengrass didn't have anything clever to say.
She smiled.
And for the first time, it wasn't guarded.
It was beautiful.