The Boy Who Never Was - A Harry Potter Fanfic

Hermione and I met at the entrance hall, bundled up and ready to board the carriages down to the station.

"Everything sorted?" she asked.

"Empire will survive without me," I said with mock gravity. "Barely."

She rolled her eyes. "You treat this like you're running Gringotts."

"Hermione, when you realize snacks and convenience are more valuable than gold in Hogwarts, you'll understand."

Before she could retort, Harry and Ron appeared, looking particularly shifty.

"Oi, Sky, Hermione, you know anything about Nicholas Flamel?" Ron asked, his voice low like we were planning a heist.

Hermione blinked. "Nicholas Flamel? Why?"

Harry looked frustrated. "We've been trying to find out who he is for weeks. Hagrid mentioned him when we asked about the package he picked up from Gringotts."

I rubbed my chin, doing my best to look like a wise sage. "Flamel, Flamel... pretty sure I read it somewhere... oh!" I snapped my fingers dramatically. "Chocolate Frog card."

Harry's eyes lit up. "That's it! I knew I read it somewhere!"

"Chocolate… what?" Hermione asked.

"History's finest educational resource," I deadpanned.

Harry thanked us before bolting off, dragging Ron with him. Hermione and I exchanged a look.

"Boys," she muttered.

"Idiots," I added.

We made our way to the carriages and soon found ourselves on the Hogwarts Express, seeking out a compartment.

Neville Longbottom joined us not long after we settled in. He looked relieved to see friendly faces.

"Mind if I sit with you?" he asked shyly.

"Absolutely, Neville. Always room for our resident toad enthusiast," I said, grinning.

We chatted a bit before I decided to poke at something that had been bothering me.

"Neville, you ever think about getting a new wand?"

He stiffened. "It was my dad's wand. Gran says if it was good enough for him, it's good enough for me."

I nodded sympathetically but leaned in. "But the wand chooses the wizard, right? Not the other way around."

He looked uncertain. Hermione, ever the supportive voice of reason, added gently, "Sky's right, Neville. A wand that doesn't choose you won't work properly."

Neville still looked hesitant, but I decided to up the ante. "Alright, hold that thought. You two might want to brace yourselves."

I opened my apartment trunk and stepped inside.

Neville's jaw hit the floor.

Hermione stared like I had just performed dark magic.

"Did he just... go downstairs?" Neville whispered.

I reappeared a moment later with a book in hand.

"Yeah, it's an apartment trunk," I said casually. "Nothing fancy."

Neville sputtered. "NOTHING FANCY? Those cost over twenty thousand Galleons!"

Hermione looked faint. "Sky... what?"

I waved them off. "Clerical error. Shopkeeper sold me the wrong trunk. Never corrected it. I've used it so much now it's second-hand. Too late to ask for it back."

Hermione was clutching her head. "Sky... you have to return it!"

I smiled gently. "Nope."

She gasped. "But... but... what if you get sent to Azkaban?"

"You think they'd put this charming face behind bars? Besides, I have a receipt. I didn't steal anything. The shopkeeper waved us off like we were royalty. No proof, no crime."

Neville whispered, "You're insane!"

"I know right?" I said proudly.

I invited them inside. They marveled at my rune workbench, the small library, the pantry that looked like it belonged to a snack gremlin.

Hermione grabbed me by the collar. "Where. Did. You. Get. All. This!!?"

I pried her off gently. "Secret room at Hogwarts. Everything here was abandoned. No owners left. It's all fair game."

She stared in shock. "You... absolute lunatic."

Neville looked at the pantry. "This explains... everything. Why did you put a rat inside a cage inside another cage with..... IS THAT MRS. NORRIS?!"

Hermione finally just gave up and slumped on the couch. "I should have known. Of course, you turned a magical school into your personal shopping mall. That catnip you had at the beginning of the year should have been an obvious sign when Mrs. Norris went missing."

"Efficiency is key," I said smugly.

She just put her head into both of her hands as she contemplated life choices.

After a minute she just stood up resolutely.

"You know what? I didn't see anything, I did not hear anything."

I was slowly but surely turning her to the dark side. Neville was still frozen like Han Solo though.

Thank god Hermione isn't my sister like Princess Leah. 

...oh shit, she is isn't she.

at least she isn't biological?

....meh, semantics.

"You okay there, Neville?" I asked.

He blinked. "I... think I need a lie down."

The rest of the train ride passed in a blur of jokes, snacks, and discussions about wands, trunks, and questionable legality. By the time we arrived at King's Cross, Hermione had made me promise to not get arrested over break. Considering she and her parents were now my foster family, I figured that was a reasonable request.

I waved it off. "If they can catch me."

She groaned. "That's not comforting."

Neville grinned. "Sky Kingston: Kleptomaniac Without Borders."

"ALLEGEDLY!" I shouted as we stepped onto the platform.

We were greeted by Emma Granger and Dan Granger, Hermione's mother and father—my foster parents. After exchanging warm greetings and receiving a bear hug from Mrs. Granger, we noticed Neville's grandmother, Augusta Longbottom, waiting nearby. Her signature vulture-topped hat made her stand out like a battle-hardened general surveying the battlefield.

I approached her with a confident smile, holding the book on wand lore under my arm. "Mrs. Longbottom, might I have a word about Neville's wand?"

Her eyes narrowed slightly. "What about it, young man?"

"I've been doing some reading," I said, flipping open the book to the section on ash wands and unicorn tail hair cores. "Ash wands are known to be incredibly loyal to their first master. And unicorn hair cores are similarly inclined towards loyalty. When combined, it's unlikely the wand will work properly for anyone other than the original owner."

Her nostrils flared. "Nonsense. That wand served my son well. It will serve my grandson just as well."

I kept my smile pleasant. "I understand tradition is important, but this isn't just my opinion. This is the collective knowledge of Garrick Ollivander and every wandmaker who contributed to this book."

She pursed her lips tightly. "I trust my family's history more than a book."

I leaned in slightly, my tone light but pointed. "Then perhaps you could demonstrate? Prove me wrong."

Her eyes narrowed further. "What are you suggesting?"

"Just a simple test. Use your own wand to cast Lumos, then try Neville's wand and do the same. If I'm wrong, I'll apologize and never bring it up again."

A small crowd had begun to gather—other families lingering on the platform, curious about the brewing confrontation. Augusta noticed them, and her pride wouldn't let her back down now.

"Fine," she snapped.

First, she drew her wand and effortlessly cast Lumos, a bright light blooming at its tip. Then, she took Neville's wand with visible disdain and gave it a flick.

Nothing happened.

She frowned, trying again. Still nothing. Not even a spark.

A hushed murmur ran through the onlookers. Augusta's expression shifted from confidence to stunned disbelief. Even the other pure-blood families watching seemed unsettled—this went against everything they believed about legacy wands.

Neville's eyes were wide, a strange mixture of relief and vindication. I placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and smiled.

"The wand chooses the wizard," I said softly. "Every time."

Best break ever incoming.