Chp 1: Hogwarts

"Slytherin!"

A shrill scream from above roused him out of his trance.

His eyes were tightly shut, still reeling from the agony of being crushed under the large truck that had hit him. Last thing he saw before passing out was his copy of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" slipping from his fingers, his blood splattered across the cover.

"Slytherin?" Almost unconsciously, he responded with a murmur.

"You are a natural Slytherin, I never make mistakes, I assure you!" He heard a guttural growl in his ear, barely audible over the chatter of conversation.

"After all, that's what you'd hope for, right?" the voice continued, its tone tinged with smugness.

It was only then that he realised something was off about the situation: who or what was talking above his head?

He quickly opened his eyes, reflexively reaching up to clutch the top of his head, and touching something dusty.

He leaped out of the chair, ripped the thing off his head, and threw it down.

Still recovering from the shock, he looked closer and discovered that thing was, in fact, a hat. A dirty, tattered pointed hat.

It started groaning at this point and was writhing on the ground with what looked like a mouth split in it.

"I swear! You're the first kid at Hogwarts to ever throw me to the floor. I ought to have put you in Gryffindor for that," it yelled.

His eye twitched as he glanced down at the moving mystery object. He fought the urge to toss it into the washing machine to clean it, and then looked somewhere else.

When he did, he was astounded by the magnificent hall he was in, with its four long tables draped in colourful tablecloths and numerous candles hanging down from the ceiling that was showing the starry night sky.

Teenagers dressed in black robes filled the tables. They were all staring at him at the moment, whispering amongst themselves.

"Mr. Fawley, how long are you going to stand here? Go ahead and take a seat at the Slytherin table." A woman's solemn voice came from just beside him.

He looked up to see a tall woman in an emerald green gown, square-framed glasses, a stern and staid demeanour, and her black hair pulled back tightly into a bun. Right now, she was looking at him with pursed lips.

He was well aware that his actions were extremely inappropriate, and that he had stayed here for far too long without her having to remind him.

"Sorry to trouble you, ma'am," he said with sincerity, dropping slightly in an elegant bow that seemed innately imprinted in him.

The woman with black hair nodded and gestured toward the long table with the green tablecloth.

He walked off the stage, his steps were hurried, yet his back was straight, giving the appearance of urgency and grace in his motions. However, he knew that this was not his usual behaviour.

"Harry Potter!"

Behind him, the woman shouted, grabbing the attention of everyone in the hall.

There was a momentary pause before he continued on and sat down in an empty chair next to the long green table.

Fortunately, nobody was paying any attention to him at this point; instead, everyone was fixated on the boy who was seated on a chair and waiting to be sorted.

His eyes swept over in that direction. The boy sitting in the chair was skinny, and much of his face was hidden by the grubby hat. Only a few unruly black hair strands stubbornly poked out from under the hat's brim.

"Harry Potter," he murmured. He then stifled a groan as he realised that he had travelled to the Harry Potter world.

"Gryffindor!" the hat finally announced after what seemed like an eternity.

In the midst of the thunderous cheers of the Gryffindors, he noticed the person next to him grunt heavily and mutter, "He'll regret it."

A boy with light blond hair was sitting beside him. He had a pale complexion and a narrow chin. He carried himself with an air of superiority, and his grey eyes gleamed with displeasure.

Just then, the boy turned to face him and whispered in a quiet voice, "What's wrong with you, Brian? You just made a complete fool of yourself."

He ignored what the boy was saying and instead pondered: 'Brian Fawley? Is that my name?'

"You're a pureblood. You shouldn't worry too much during the sorting. We're born to be members of the noble Slytherin house," the boy spoke, ignoring the ongoing sorting after noticing that Brian didn't respond.

"Unless you're a bunch of traitors like those red-haired Weasleys," he continued. "They have tarnished the reputation of purebloods."

"What's up with you, by the way? You seem odd," he asked.

"It's nothing, Draco. I've got a headache," Brian said while rubbing his temples. He presumed the boy was Draco Malfoy from the patronising tone of his voice.

"Must have been the sorting. Why is it taking so long," Draco grumbled. "I think we need a wizard duel to distinguish us from those bumbling, reckless ones, and narrow-minded idiots."

Draco then cast a scornful glare in Gryffindor's direction. "Most importantly, we can send those stinky Mudbloods back to whatever hovel they came from."

"That's enough, Draco. I'm not in the mood to listen to you right now," Brian interrupted him while displaying a helpless look.

"Maybe I should write to my dad about this. I'm sure he'll approve…" Draco turned a blind eye to him and got lost in his thoughts.

Brian breathed a sigh of relief after Draco ended his tirade. He was still coming to terms with what had occurred to him.

He had no recollection of what happened after the truck ran him over; he simply felt like he was being dragged under water, unable to do anything. When he woke up, he was already in Hogwarts.

'I seem to come from a pureblood family that is familiar with the Malfoys, but who are the Fawleys? I don't think I've ever heard of that name before,' he thought.

He was just an ordinary Harry Potter fan. He had only read the book a few times, and he hadn't looked into its secrets or unearthed its hidden backstories.

While Brian was thinking, a variety of dishes magically appeared on the table. The sorting ceremony was over without him realising it.

As his stomach growled with hunger, Brian ignored his discomfort and grabbed a handful of potato chips. Throughout the feast, he remained silent while everyone else engaged in conversation.

After taking his time to consume and finish the meal on his plate, Brian looked around the table and reached for a mint candy.

As the mint flavour dissolved in his tongue, Brian noticed that his head hurt less and that his thoughts had become more clear.

Standing beside him was the resident ghost of Slytherin, "The Bloody Baron," his eyes blank and covered in silver splatters of blood.

"Would you like one, sir?" Brian gave him an uneasy smile, holding out a mint candy.

Bloody Baron gave him a disapproving look before taking off without saying anything.

Brian shrugged and then turned to look at the seats in the front row of the hall occupied by the older wizards.

At once, he recognised the Headmaster Dumbledore with the grey hair and beard. He was currently tasting a platter of butter-topped pies with great attention. His eyes, hidden behind the half-moon glasses, were calm and in focus.

Professor McGonagall, who oversaw the sorting, was sitting next to him. She was meticulous even when she was eating.

Hagrid was sipping from a huge tankard. He was a big, burly man and his black hair and beard were twice as thick as those of Dumbledore.

Oily black hair framing a hooked nose, Professor Snape was glancing in the direction of the Gryffindor table.

Finally, he looked over at Professor Quirrell. The man was looking very pale and jittery. He also had a purple scarf wrapped over his head.

Brian's eyes lingered on the scarf behind his head before he swiftly looked away when he realised Quirrell had his eyes fixed on him.