The Boy Who Never Was - A Harry Potter Fanfic

The Room of Requirement had been on my checklist from the moment I received my Hogwarts letter. There were a few objectives I had in mind for my first year, and this room played a key role in all of them. Today was the day I would finally scratch it off the list.

I stood before what appeared to be an ordinary stretch of wall on the seventh floor. Across from me, Barnabas the Barmy valiantly attempted to teach ballet to trolls in his portrait. A masterpiece of absurdity if there ever was one.

I began pacing back and forth, focusing on my need. "I need a place to find what was lost. A room filled with forgotten treasures. A room I can work in, organize, and build something lasting."

On my third pass, a door appeared. The legendary Room of Requirement.

"Oh, this is actually happening," I whispered.

I pushed open the door and stepped inside. What greeted me was a hoarder's fever dream.

My jaw practically hit the floor. The room was massive—mountains of random objects piled as far as the eye could see. It felt like I had stepped into a treasure hoard curated by a lunatic. Rusted suits of armor leaned precariously on stacks of dusty books, cauldrons were heaped like discarded cooking pots, and an alarming number of wands poked out from crates like spiky hedgehogs. The sheer volume was overwhelming, a chaotic masterpiece. I took a deep breath, trying to absorb the sheer scale of it all. "Oh... wow. This is insane. Alright, Sky. Time to work."

I started with a few experiments. Could I organize things with a thought? Nope. The room had a mind of its own. Could I summon specific items? Kind of. When I thought about books, I found shelves. When I imagined wands, a chest full of them appeared nearby. The room responded, but it had rules.

"Alright, so you're helpful but stubborn," I muttered.

I tested the boundaries, walking in one direction for five minutes. The room seemed vast, but it subtly shifted as I moved. It was like walking through a labyrinth that adjusted to my needs.

"This place is intuitive... and probably enjoying my confusion."

The scavenging began. It was during this phase that I discovered a rather irritating rule—the room would not let me take anything out unless I was the original owner. Every time I tried to carry something beyond the door, it vanished from my hands and reappeared back inside the piles. However, being the resident 'Kleptomaniac Without Borders,' I found a loophole. If I stored the item directly into my inventory, the room couldn't stop me. It was mine once it entered my personal storage, bypassing whatever magical ownership restriction the room enforced. I found a sack of Galleons—straight into the inventory. A set of enchanted goggles that highlighted magical auras? Mine. A broomstick that looked like it had been attacked by a dragon? Left it.

I cleared an area near the entrance, stacking broken desks to form a makeshift perimeter. This would be my base camp.

Then I found it—the Holy Grail of tinkerers (probably). A small workbench covered in runes, faintly humming with magic. (Probably something necessary for Runes)

"Oh, you beauty," I whispered, adopting my best mad scientist voice. "Oh, how I wonder what you do." I dragged it to my clearing and claimed it as my personal workshop. (If I ever discover how to use it)

Next, I decided to test something I'd been curious about. I asked the room, with my best 'polite but please work for me' voice, for the Vanishing Cabinet. To my utter shock, it appeared—ancient, dusty, and slightly ominous. I approached it like it might explode at any moment. This was going to be my next project. Fixing it could be invaluable later. I set it aside carefully, giving it the kind of respect you'd give an angry hippogriff.

I shelved the books and set up a small section for potion ingredients using new Ikea shelves, focusing only on dried components as they would have aged better over time.

I stumbled upon a dusty cabinet that refused to open until I sweet-talked it. Inside? A collection of rare magical tools, including a self-stirring cauldron.

Everything had its place. Finally, I could breathe easier.

"Okay, this is getting ridiculous," I laughed.

But I loved it.

As I was exploring, I found something odd—a mirror. It was dusty, and the frame was tarnished silver but fully intact. When I peered into it, I saw... myself, of course. But for a brief second, I thought I saw someone else—a shadow in the background.

I blinked in confusion for a sec.

"Nope," I muttered. I immediately found an old cloth, threw it over the mirror, and dragged it as far away from my workspace as possible. "Room, can we get a fully isolated section for this thing? Preferably somewhere I never have to look at it again." A door appeared, leading to a small enclosed room. I shoved the mirror inside and closed the door with a shudder. "Out of sight, out of mind."

After several hours, I sat on a crate, surveying my new kingdom. The room was still wild, but this corner was mine. A workshop, a stockpile, and an ever-growing collection of ill-gotten gains.

"This... is perfect."

"Room, can you, like... make this whole area invisible to everyone but me? I want it so anyone else just... walks past it like it doesn't exist."

at this, I felt the section I made for myself hum for a moment as a rippling dome formed for a second before it disappeared as if it never happened.

"Thanks"

........The room is intuitive, I wonder if its got a conscience.

The Room of Requirement had been a success, but the rest of my life at Hogwarts continued as usual. Hermione and I were still the dynamic duo. We ran the bag business like pros. Slytherins kept paying triple because they had no concept of budgeting. The snack empire flourished.

And then there was Hermione.

Our partnership was evolving. There were little moments—like when she leaned closer to check my notes, and our shoulders touched. Or when I made a terrible pun, and she laughed but tried to hide it. Or when she looked at me with that mix of exasperation and fondness.

Feelings? Possibly. Dangerous territory? Absolutely.

The Incident with Malfoy

One afternoon, I was wandering toward the library when I heard raised voices around the corner. Picking up my pace, I found Hermione standing stiffly with her books clutched to her chest, facing down Draco Malfoy and his usual goons.

Malfoy sneered, his voice dripping with disdain. "Getting a bit cocky, are we, Granger? Just because a few Slytherins recognized you doesn't mean you've got a place with us. You're still a filthy little Mudblood—always will be. You don't belong in our society." Crabbe and Goyle snickered beside him.

Before Hermione could respond, I noticed her shoulders tense and her eyes dart downward, the hurt in her expression like a punch to the gut. That triggered something in me—something protective. I strolled up behind her with the most innocent smile I could muster—the one that unsettled even the bravest students.

"Oh, Draco," I said sweetly. "Funny running into you here. Did you know that I've been considering cutting off all my business dealings with Slytherin House? Just a business evaluation. Market analysis, if you will. After all, if Slytherins can't handle being around Muggle-borns, maybe they can't handle snacks, bags, or any of the other essentials I provide either. Wouldn't want to upset their delicate sensibilities."

Malfoy paled. He knew the Slytherins had become reliant on my business. If his actions led to that supply drying up, his housemates would tear him apart.

"I—uh—it was just a joke," he stammered.

I kept my smile firmly in place. "Glad to hear it," I said with a smile that held a slight, dark undertone. "We wouldn't want any misunderstandings."

Malfoy muttered something, his eyes flicking nervously to my expression before quickly looking away. He straightened his posture, still trying to cling to his pride, but the discomfort was clear in the tightness of his jaw. Without another word, he stormed off with his lackeys trailing behind, though his steps were noticeably quicker than usual.

Hermione let out a breath, her voice softer, almost fragile. "Sky... you didn't have to do that. But... thank you."

I shrugged, giving her a small grin. "Of course I did. Plus, seeing Malfoy sweat like he's just been hexed into next week? That's just quality entertainment."

She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her robe. "Still... what he said... it... it hurts sometimes." I softened. "I know. And I hate that it does. But you? You're brilliant, Hermione. None of those idiots could ever hold a candle to you." Her eyes met mine for a brief moment—something warm flickering there—before she quickly looked away.

That evening, I found Hermione curled up in the corner of the common room, her nose buried in a book, but it was clear her heart wasn't in it. I dropped onto the seat beside her, nudging her gently with my elbow.

"Fancy seeing a bit of magic?" I whispered.

She looked at me curiously, her eyes still carrying traces of that earlier hurt.

"Sorry, Sky. I really don't feel like it today," she said, still looking lost.

I leaned in slightly, lowering my voice to a gentle, playful tone. "Oh, come on, Hermione. You know I wouldn't ask if it wasn't worth it. Trust me. This is the kind of magic that even Hogwarts: A History doesn't cover."

She shook her head, lips pressed together. "Sky... I just... it's been a long day. And Malfoy—he... he really got to me. I just want to be alone."

I frowned, but kept my tone light. "You sure? Because this is top-tier secret magic we're talking about. Possibly involving chocolate. Possibly involving a fireplace. Definitely involving books."

Her eyes flickered with mild interest, but she quickly looked away. "I don't know..."

I leaned closer, smirking. "Hermione, you're going to regret this if you say no. In fact, years from now, you'll look back and say, 'Wow, if only I'd listened to that charming and incredibly handsome Sky Kingston, my life would have been so much better.'"

She snorted despite herself. "You're impossible."

"Yes, but you love it," I shot back.

She rolled her eyes, but her mouth twitched into a half-smile. "You said books?"

"Books, Hermione. Books. Warmth. Quiet. And me. What more could you possibly want?"

"Less of you, maybe?" she teased, though her tone was softening.

"Hurtful," I clutched my chest dramatically. "But I'll forgive you if you come with me. Plus, didn't you always want to know some of my secrets?"

There was a pause, her eyes searching mine with much more interest, as if weighing whether I was being serious or whether this would be another one of my ridiculous schemes.

Finally, she sighed, though it was more exasperation than resistance. "Fine. But if this is some prank, I swear—"

"Scout's honor," I said, raising my hand.

"Let's see this magic then," she muttered, her voice tinged with reluctant curiosity.

I grinned. "You're going to love it."

I offered my hand to help her up.

She hesitated for a moment before taking it. Her hand was warm in mine, and neither of us mentioned that I held on a little longer than necessary. I led her to the seventh floor. After pacing three times, a door appeared.

Her eyes widened. "What is this place?"

"You'll love it," I said, guiding her inside.

The room transformed into a cozy study. Bookshelves lined the walls, a study table nearby, a roaring fireplace warmed the room, and a large, plush couch invited us to relax near the fireplace.

Hermione stared in awe. "This... this is incredible. How did you find this?"

"Trade secret," I teased.

She turned to hug me tightly. It was brief, but firm—like she needed it. As we pulled apart, we lingered, our faces close enough that I could see the faint freckles on her nose. Her cheeks flushed bright red, and she quickly took a step back, brushing her hair behind her ear. "I... um... sorry. I just—this is amazing. Thank you, Sky."

"I—um—You're very welcome?" Why did that sound like a question?

We settled onto the couch, side by side, letting the warmth of the fire wash over us. Our shoulders brushed occasionally, and each time it happened, neither of us pulled away until her head was leaned up against my shoulder. The silence was comfortable—companionable. For the first time in what felt like ages, we just... relaxed. And for once, neither of us felt the need to fill the quiet with words.

This was the start of something—something that felt a little more than friendship—but neither of us was ready to say it out loud.

Yet.