Neko_himiya

---

Author's Note:

This story is written with the help of an AI (Aria), who generates the chapters based on the user's ideas and direction. While the plot is original, the writing style and execution come from an AI assistant. Read at your own discretion!


---

Synopsis:

Reincarnating into the Harry Potter universe should have been a dream come true. But for [FMC's Name], it was a playground for chaos.

Gifted with a magic ability that lets her steal anything without anyone realizing it’s gone, she turned the wizarding world upside down—stealing the Philosopher’s Stone, dismantling Voldemort’s plans, and leaving even Dumbledore utterly baffled.

By the time she left Hogwarts, history had been rewritten beyond recognition.

But her journey doesn’t end there.

With nothing left to challenge her, she sets her sights on a new magical world—one just as full of legends, prophecies, and untold power.

And once again, no one will ever suspect a thing.


--

The Phantom Thief of Fate

The moment Quirrell stepped into the final chamber, he knew something was wrong.

No traps, no obstacles—just an empty room with a single, unassuming mirror.

His heart pounded. This is it. The Philosopher's Stone must be inside.

He took a deep breath and stepped in front of the Mirror of Erised.

"Master," he whispered under his breath, feeling the burn of Voldemort's presence on the back of his skull. "The Stone is near."

Quirrell stared into the mirror, waiting for the Stone to appear in his reflection.

No glowing red gem. No triumphant vision. Just his own confused face staring back at him.

His stomach twisted. What's going on?

He gritted his teeth and reached into his robes, waiting to feel the Stone magically slip into his pocket. Nothing.

His hands started shaking. This wasn't possible. The mirror was supposed to reveal the Stone to the one who truly desired it. He wanted it more than anything!

"Master," he hissed, panic creeping into his voice. "It's not here!"

Voldemort went silent for a long, terrible moment. Then—

Quirrell flinched as a burning pain shot through his head. "I—I don't understand! It should be here!"

"You mean to tell me... you went through all of that effort... and the Stone is NOT HERE?!" Voldemort's voice was filled with barely contained fury.

"I swear! I followed the plan! The protections were already bypassed—someone must have taken it before me!"

Voldemort's rage was suffocating. "Who?! WHO TOOK IT?!"

Because according to everyone in Hogwarts, the Stone was still hidden.

Meanwhile, in the Ravenclaw Common Room…

I sipped my pumpkin juice, watching the chaos unfold.

Quirrell had returned from his failed mission looking like a complete wreck. Pale, twitchy, like a man on the edge of a breakdown. He kept glancing around like someone was about to ambush him at any second.

Harry and his friends had spent all morning whispering about how someone had almost stolen the Stone—but since it was "still safe," they were convinced that the protections had stopped the thief.

I could already imagine the old man, sitting in his office, completely convinced that the mirror's enchantments had worked flawlessly.

I hummed in satisfaction, rolling the Philosopher's Stone between my fingers. It wasn't glowing or anything—it just looked like a normal red rock. I didn't plan to use it for immortality or whatever. Honestly, I just liked knowing that I had it.

And that everyone else was running in circles trying to protect something that no longer existed.

The Beginning of a Legend (That Didn't Exist)

By the end of the school year, everything had wrapped up as usual.

Gryffindor won the House Cup. Slytherin was pissed. Harry left for the summer, thinking he'd saved the Stone.

I walked out of Hogwarts with the greatest heist in wizarding history under my belt.

A crime so perfect, so untouchable, that no one even knew it happened.

I couldn't wait to see what I'd steal next.

Quirrell's Worst Night Ever