The Boy Who Never Was - A Harry Potter Fanfic

After the flying lesson fiasco, we made our way to Charms class, where Professor Flitwick stood on his ever-present stack of books, looking positively giddy.

"Today, we will be learning the Levitation Charm," he announced, his high-pitched voice brimming with excitement. "A very useful spell, if I do say so myself! Now, remember: swish and flick! And it's 'Wingardium Leviosa,' not 'Leviosa.'"

Hermione and I exchanged a glance. Piece of cake.

As Flitwick demonstrated the movement on the board, we barely needed to pay attention. The second we were given permission to try, Hermione and I raised our wands.

"Wingardium Leviosa."

Our feathers floated immediately.

"Oh, brilliant!" Flitwick clapped excitedly. "Ten points each! Well done!"

Meanwhile, the rest of the class… was not doing so well.

Seamus's feather caught on fire. Neville's didn't even budge. Ron looked like he was about to take his frustration out on his wand, while Harry was trying his hardest but was stuck at a half-hearted wobble.

"Sky, Hermione—could you assist your classmates?" Flitwick asked, beaming.

I gave a mock sigh. "Guess it's time to be heroes again."

I moved to Seamus and Neville, while Hermione helped Harry and Ron.

Neville was struggling—again.

His pronunciation? Perfect. His wand movement? On point.

So why wasn't it working?

I frowned. "Neville, humor me—switch wands with Seamus."

Neville blinked. "Uh… alright?"

The second he tried with Seamus's wand, his feather floated.

"Oh," Neville said, blinking. "Oh. It worked!"

I smirked. "Called it. Your wand's not right for you."

Then I noticed Hermione and Ron arguing.

I sighed, walked over, and bribed Ron into silence.

"Ron, you like snacks, right? If you ever want to see chocolate frogs again, you'll drop this."

Ron blinked. "You can't just bribe me with food."

I smiled. "That's where you're wrong."

Harry burst out laughing. "Just listen to him, mate."

After that, I coached Ron and Harry through their spellwork, making them go so slow it was painful to watch, but eventually—Ron's feather lifted!

"I DID IT!" he shouted.

Hermione looked smug. "See? Proper enunciation is important."

Ron muttered something that definitely wasn't fit for class.

By the end of class, everyone had successfully performed the Levitation Charm.

As we left, Professor Flitwick stopped Hermione and me.

"You two are very advanced," he noted. "How far are you in the coursework?"

"We've finished the first-year curriculum," Hermione admitted.

"And we're practicing wordless magic, specifically for first-year spells. We've managed to successfully cast Lumos without incantation—it's all about focus and intent.

"It started with frustration," I began.

"Lots of frustration," Hermione added, nodding. "At first, all we could do was get the tip of our wands to flicker."

"And by flicker, she means it looked like an exhausted firefly was trying to signal for help."

Hermione rolled her eyes. "We realized that we were still relying too much on the incantation, even when we weren't speaking it."

"So we tried linking the spell to intent."

"And visualization."

"Lots of visualization. I imagined the wand already being lit, like it was part of my hand."

"I focused on the warmth of the light and the flow of magic," Hermione countered. "Eventually, that was enough."

"After a few weeks of testing, we got it down to where we could cast it nearly instantly." I grinned. "Well, most of the time."

"If we aren't exhausted or distracted," Hermione amended.

"Right. Wordless magic is like flexing a muscle you didn't know you had. Too much use, and you'll burn out."

Flitwick chuckled. "A very apt description, Mr. Kingston. Wordless magic requires an internal connection to one's magic, a skill that takes some wizards years to develop. Keep practicing—there's no telling how far you two might go."" I added.

Flitwick beamed. "I'll see if we can arrange early exams for you two."

Hermione and I exchanged grins of victory.

After an eventful day, it was finally time for the Halloween Feast.

The Great Hall had outdone itself. Floating jack-o'-lanterns drifted overhead, the ceiling reflecting a spooky twilight sky. The tables were overflowing with food, including Halloween-themed treats—candied apples, chocolate skeletons, and even pastries shaped like tiny pumpkins.

Hermione and I claimed our usual seats, but I made sure to sit near the center, because let's be honest—that's where all the action happens.

I took one look at the spread and whispered, "I regret nothing." Then, with the practiced ease of a seasoned professional, I began discreetly storing as much food as possible into my inventory. Roast beef, pumpkin pasties, treacle tarts—nothing was safe. A businessman always plans ahead, and if Hogwarts had taught me anything, it was that the unexpected was always around the corner.

Hermione shot me a look of pure exasperation before narrowing her eyes. "Where are you putting all that food?"

I paused mid-tart theft and flashed her my most innocent grin. "Trade secret."

She stared at me, clearly suspicious. "You don't even have a bag."

I shrugged, subtly flicking my wrists to make the food disappear into my inventory. "Maybe I have hidden pockets. Maybe I'm a magician. Maybe I just have very, very roomy sleeves." I wiggled my arms for dramatic effect, as if proving my sleeves were enchanted portals to another dimension.

Hermione crossed her arms. "You're ridiculous."

"And yet, you still sit next to me. Makes you think, doesn't it?"

"You'll figure it out eventually," I said with a smirk, wiggling my mysteriously roomy sleeves again for effect.

"You really have no shame," Hermione muttered, watching me sneak away some treacle tarts.

"None whatsoever."

Across from us, Harry, Ron, and Seamus were shoveling food into their mouths like they were preparing for hibernation.

"You'd think we starve at this school," I commented.

Seamus, mouth full, mumbled, "You never know. Might be cursed food one day."

Before I could question that logic, the doors slammed open.

Enter Professor Quirrell, looking like he had just run a marathon.

"T-T-TROLL!" he gasped. "IN THE DUNGEON!"

Silence.

"Thought you ought to know," he added before dramatically fainting.

The Great Hall exploded into chaos.

Screams, panic, sheer idiocy. A second-year climbed under the table for cover. One Hufflepuff actually threw their goblet into the air like that was going to help.

Then, Dumbledore stood up.

"SILENCE!"

And just like that, the entire hall froze.

"Prefects, lead your houses back to their dormitories and the professors will follow me to the dungeons." Dumbledore calmly commanded.

I raised a hand.

Dumbledore blinked. "Yes, Mr. Kingston?"

"Wouldn't it be safer to stay here?" I asked. "You know, instead of sending half the school toward the troll? Also, Hufflepuff and Slytherin literally live in the dungeon. You're sending them toward the danger."

A beat of silence.

The gears in Dumbledore's head visibly turned. His blue eyes flickered with a realization that, maybe, just maybe, the twelve-year-old was right.

"Ah," he said. "Yes. Yes, quite right. Everyone, stay where you are."

The murmuring began again, this time in agreement. I had just publicly corrected Dumbledore. I turned to Hermione. "I'm never topping this."

"It was pretty brilliant," she admitted. "But now what?"

Dumbledore instructed the professors to check the castle, leaving McGonagall in charge of us.

Meanwhile, Professor Quirrell lay in a heap.

I walked up and poked him with a stick.

"You guys think he's dead?"

At least ten other students gathered around.

"Someone should check," Padma muttered.

"Harry, you're the main character. Check his pulse," I suggested.

Harry, bless him, actually leaned down to check. The second his fingers brushed Quirrell's neck, Quirrell SCREAMED, flailed, and bolted upright.

Everyone shrieked.

Quirrell, not explaining a single thing, then sprinted out of the Great Hall.

We all just stood there.

Seamus broke the silence. "Well, that was dramatic."

Daphne shook her head. "Do professors usually pass out and then run away screaming?"

Ron, ever the expert on bad decisions, looked pale. "Maybe he just really doesn't like trolls."

"Or maybe he just isn't built for Hogwarts-level nonsense," I muttered. "Because honestly? That felt like a whole lot of not my problem."

Everyone exchanged glances before silently nodding in agreement, as if we had all come to the same unspoken conclusion—Hogwarts was a madhouse, and we had just accepted our fate.

And that was the moment we all truly realized what Hogwarts life was going to be like.