Timothy-Who?

As consciousness came knocking, my surroundings began to take shape. "Where am I?" I croaked out, the words rasping against my throat like sandpaper as my eyes fluttered open to reveal a brightly lit room.

"Well, you're finally awake," a woman's voice chirped, its cheerful tone jarring against the sterile white of the room. I instinctively turned towards the source of the sound, the speed of my action betraying my disorientation.

Catching sight of my feeble attempts to vacate the bed, she interjected, her hands finding purchase on my shoulders as she coaxed me back onto the bed. "Take it easy," she counseled, her touch a mixture of firm and gentle. "Why don't you tell me what you remember?"

Dazed and confused, I could only respond with a nod. "It was my 14th birthday... It started off like any other day..." My voice trailed off as the memories came rushing back.

< Flash Back >

"Boy!" The sound, reminiscent of a strangled whale's call, ricocheted off the walls of the two-story house.

Following the alarming cry, furniture crashed, doors were banged open, and hurried footsteps echoed through the house.

Into the kitchen dashed Timothy, a peculiar boy with striking emerald eyes. His clothes, meant for someone twice his size, flapped comically around his thin frame. The absurdity of his appearance, however, starkly contrasted the serious undertone of the situation.

"The dishes…" The large man, face turning an alarming shade of red, thundered. His fists slammed onto the table as he roared, "THE DISHES ARE NOT WASHED!!"

Timothy's eyes expanded, his pupils trembling with realization. "I… I forgot," he stuttered. Despite his evident fright, a touch of sardonic humor slipped through. "I guess I'm having a lapse in my domestic duties, huh?"

His quip earned him an angry lunge from the large man. As the man's hand encased his ear, yanking him towards the door under the stairs, Timothy winced but didn't cry out. The pain was familiar, almost routine.

"A WEEK without food, Boy!" The man spat out, his voice echoing within the closet-sized room he shoved Timothy into. The door slammed shut, leaving Timothy in darkness.

…

"Kind of him to put me on a diet plan," Timothy muttered to himself once the sounds of the man's retreat faded away. He touched his throbbing ear, grimacing at the flare of pain, and then reached under his bed for a damp towel – the closest thing to a bath in this hellhole.

Four years. It had been four years since he had awoken in a world straight out of fiction. In his previous life, he was a man of status, of pride. Now, he was reduced to a toy for monsters wearing human masks – the Dursleys.

The clues of his predicament were glaringly obvious: his unruly dark hair, the lean frame, the round glasses held together with tape, and the coup de grace, the lightning bolt scar on his forehead. Yet despite the similarities, he was no Harry Potter.

For one, he went by Timothy Hunter. The name had caused quite the stir on his first day of school when it was called out during attendance, instead of the anticipated 'Harry Potter.'

He chuckled dryly at the memory, "Imagine their disappointment when the 'Boy-Who-Lived' turned out to be 'Timothy-Who?'"

Yet there was the picture he'd discovered in the attic, signed 'Lily E. Potter,' featuring a woman who bore a startling resemblance to him.

"I must admit, it's disconcerting to look so much like Lily Potter and yet bear another man's name," he mused. The levity in his tone masked the deep-rooted confusion and frustration that bubbled underneath.

The sound of the front door closing brought him back from his thoughts. It was time to prepare for another day at school.

…

"Did you hear about that new alien that looked like a starfish?" Timothy overheard in the school cafeteria.

"No, me dad said aliens aren't real," a classmate responded.

Shaking his head, Timothy rolled his eyes, muttering under his breath, "I'm sure the alien would say the same about your dad."

"Timmy!" A shrill voice echoed across the cafeteria. Timothy didn't need to turn to recognize the owner of the voice - Hector, the class bully.

"Still too poor for a decent lunch, Timmy?" Hector jeered, relishing the cheap shot.

"I'm just on a minimalist diet, Hector," Timothy responded, his voice carrying a hint of sarcasm. The spectators around them snickered.

"Mr. Hunter." Turning to my left, I found my favorite teacher - and first crush - approaching.

"Yes, Ms. Prince?"

"Did you bring your permission slip for last week's absence, Mr. Hunter?" she asked, hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Ah, about that," he scratched his head, putting on a show of discomfort. "The Dursleys have been a bit... preoccupied. But I'll get it to you by tomorrow, cross my heart."

"Sure," she replied, her eyes narrowing skeptically. "That's what you've been saying every day. If I don't receive it by tomorrow, I'll have to personally call your guardian and inform them of your absence."

After she left, Timothy let out a long sigh, his eyes following her figure as it disappeared into the crowd.

"Dude, quit staring!" A friendly elbow from Hector nudged him, pulling him back from his thoughts.

"Quite impressive," Timothy quipped to himself, a smirk playing on his lips.

A heavy sigh followed. Another day in the life of Timothy Hunter had begun.

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This is AU. Don't worry about the timelines, they are adjusted and changed for my liking, like the character ages.

I will try to stay as canonically perfect as I can.

Also please go easy on me if I have an unusual upload schedule. My only motivation is your guys, so I see a lack of stone and interactions I don't think I can be consistent.

But have fun!!!