The Boy Who Never Was - A Harry Potter Fanfic

One of my biggest priorities at Hogwarts was finding the Room of Requirement. This was a critical piece of my grand plan, and I was determined to cross it off my list. It was time to make my move.

The room held immense potential. A place that could become anything I needed? That was basically cheat mode for Hogwarts. The moment I received my Hogwarts letter, I knew I would need it at some point. Now was the time to make it happen.

I needed to pinpoint the location of the Room of Requirement, and the best way to do that was to track down Barnabas the Barmy's portrait.

Of course, I had no idea where to even start looking for it. But I did know someone who had an unhealthy amount of knowledge about Hogwarts.

Time to visit Hogwarts' walking encyclopedia—Hermione Granger.

Step Two: Hermione's Expertise

Finding Hermione was easy. She was in the library—again—with an impressive stack of books surrounding her.

I casually pulled out a chair and leaned in with my best innocent smile. "Hey, Hermione, quick question."

She barely glanced up from her book, her quill still scribbling notes. "What do you need?"

"Do you know where I can find the portrait of Barnabas the Barmy?"

That got her attention. She blinked at me, closing her book slowly as her brow furrowed. "Barnabas the who?"

"The Barmy," I repeated. "Big fan of trolls, tried to teach them ballet. Absolute legend."

Hermione looked at me like I'd grown another head. "Why on earth are you looking for such an obscure portrait?"

I smirked. "Because I have an intense passion for historical figures who made questionable life choices."

She gave me a deadpan stare. "Sky."

"Fine," I sighed dramatically. "It's for something important."

"Something important or something ridiculous?" she pressed, arms crossing over her chest.

"…Can't it be both?" I countered with a grin.

Hermione huffed, crossing her arms tighter. "You're always up to something. You never tell me anything."

I raised an eyebrow at her sudden irritation. "Oh? And here I thought you liked a good mystery."

She rolled her eyes but then looked back at me more seriously. "Sky, can't you just trust me?"

I hesitated for a moment before giving her a soft smile. "I do. And I promise—you'll have all your answers by the end of the year."

She studied me for a long moment before sighing. "Fine. But I will hold you to that promise."

"Wouldn't have it any other way."

She sighed again, shaking her head. "I don't know where it is. And before you ask, Hogwarts: A History doesn't have a complete record of every single portrait in the castle—just the well-known ones."

I frowned. "So Barnabas isn't in there?"

"No," she confirmed. "But the Weasley twins might know."

At that, my grin returned. "Hermione, you are an absolute gem."

Before she could react, I pulled her into a tight hug. She stiffened like a board, and when I pulled back, her face was bright red.

"Th-thank you," she stammered, eyes darting around nervously.

I shot her a wink. "See you later!"

Then, off I went to track down my favorite chaotic duo.

Finding Fred and George was surprisingly easy—just follow the sound of impending disaster. I found them near the Gryffindor common room, whispering excitedly to each other while juggling what appeared to be small fireworks.

"Ah, if it isn't our dear friend Sky," Fred greeted, throwing an arm around my shoulder as if we'd been partners in crime for years.

"The legendary snack lord," George added, grinning. "Information broker, supplier of external potions ingredients, and all-around mischief consultant."

"And now," Fred continued, "the brilliant mind who managed to get Professor McGonagall high on catnip."

I smirked. "Impressed?"

George placed a hand over his heart. "Astounded. A level of chaos we have only ever dreamed of and you didn't even get in trouble."

Fred nodded solemnly. "A feat worthy of the title 'Kleptomaniac Without Borders.'"

George tilted his head. "Which we allegedly approve of."

I grinned, but my curiosity got the better of me. "Hold on. Where did that nickname even come from? 'Kleptomaniac Without Borders'? Who came up with that?"

Fred and George exchanged mischievous looks before shrugging in perfect unison. "A mystery for the ages, mate."

I narrowed my eyes. "If that name spreads, I swear I'll suspend all orders of supplies indefinitely. No more potions ingredients, no more snack imports, no more contraband deliveries. You two will be back to swindling first-years for pocket change."

Fred clutched his chest dramatically. "You wound us, Sky."

George sighed. "A fate worse than detention."

I crossed my arms. "Then keep it under wraps."

Fred waved a hand. "Now, what brings you to our fine establishment today?"

"I need information."

Fred and George exchanged knowing looks.

"We love a good information trade," Fred mused. "What's the request?"

"I need to find Barnabas the Barmy's portrait."

The twins blinked before frowning. "That's… an oddly specific request," George muttered.

Fred tilted his head. "Not one of your usual business ventures, Sky. What's the catch?"

"No catch," I said smoothly. "But for your assistance, I'll make sure you two get a surprising reward. Something… of monetary value."" I said smoothly.

Both twins exchanged another look, eyes narrowing with a mix of excitement and suspicion. "A surprising reward, you say?" Fred mused, rubbing his chin.

"We do love surprises," George added, "but we also know you well enough to be wary."

"Could be something wonderful... could also be something mildly explosive," Fred pointed out.

"Or illegal," George muttered thoughtfully.

They turned back to me in perfect synchronization. "We're intrigued. Proceed."

"Well, you're in luck," Fred said. "Barnabas the Barmy? He's up on the seventh floor."

"Somewhere near a stretch of empty wall," George added. "We've seen the portrait plenty of times, but never paid much attention to it."

"If you're looking for something around there, good luck," Fred finished, eyeing me suspiciously. "But don't forget—we're keeping an eye on you."

"Always," George agreed. "You've got too many secrets."

I grinned. "And yet, you two still love me."

They both rolled their eyes before Fred smirked. "Sorry, mate, we don't roll that way. We are flattered, though."