Writing was just something that came to him naturally.
Ryan had started writing when he was about ten years old, when he suddenly found himself bored out of his mind in his room with nothing to do on a perfectly good Saturday morning, and so he just decided to write anything that came to his mind on a plain, empty book. At first, he didn't really know what he was doing. He was just aimlessly writing stories after stories every day, using his own imagination; putting characters from other literature books and coming up with a few ones himself into the stories he wrote to suit the narrative. But as he grew older, he began to prefer books then any video game console, his hand writing had improved, his vocabularies had been extended and his taste in other genres had become more profound. Since then, he had begun to write books as a side hobby, and publishing them in various different writing websites with moderate success.
… But, why was he saying all of this?
"You didn't think it was such a freak's school when you wrote to the headmaster and begged him to take you…"
It was because he was witnessing potentially one of the most pivotal moments in all of literature history.
Petunia's face turned scarlet.
"Beg? I didn't beg!"
"I saw his reply. It was very kind."
His familiar surroundings had disappeared, his work desk was gone, and the familiar walls where several of his post-its had all but vanished.
Ryan was now standing on a large platform with an arched glass roof, where a scarlet steam train billowed smoke from its chimney, awaiting its eventual departure. He looked around, and saw a metal archway near a brick wall where children came out straight from the wall with their trolleys, followed closely by their parents. There was also a distinctive number that was engraved on it,
"Platform Nine and Three-Quarters…" He muttered in utter disbelief.
He turned to see several cats of all colors strolling around the station, some mewling in their owners' arms while the Owls fluttered and hooted to one another in their cages as they were being loaded onto the train. The new students were saying their final goodbyes to their loved ones, while the older students in black robes happily greeted one another, excited to see their friends and classmates after the summer break.
"You shouldn't have read — that was my private — how could you — ?"
Ryan quickly glanced around the station and saw two girls near the Hogwarts Express and he immediately recognized them.
"That boy found it! You and that boy have been sneaking in my room!"
'This is so weird,' He thought. Even though he was at least a few feet away from them, he was able to see everything so clearly. Normally, he would need glasses just to see the words on his computer screen, but now he could see their facial features without the need of his glasses.
On his right stood a tall, sour faced girl. Her blonde hair was cut short, and she had big, blue eyes. Her lips were thin, and her features were sharp and more profound, with her long neck and lantern chin being her most notable features. Petunia Dursley; well, judging by her age she was still Petunia Evans.
And on the contrary the girl on his left, was a short and petite young girl, with bright, emerald green eyes and long, thick dark red hair that fell to her shoulders. He didn't need to look much to her to know that she was the one and only Lily Evans, the future mother of the story's protagonist; Harry James Potter.
"No — not sneaking — " Now Lily was on the defensive. "Severus saw the envelope, and he couldn't believe a Muggle could have contacted Hogwarts, that's all! He says there must be wizards working undercover in the postal service who take care of — "
"Apparently wizards poke their noses in everywhere!" said Petunia, now as pale as she had been flushed. "Freak!" she spat at her sister, and she flounced off to where her parents stood.
"This is just like the novel." Edward thought to himself, "No, scratch that, this is exactly how it plays out…"
Lily was in the verge of tears, and she immediately bolted off to the train without even saying goodbye to her parents, who were still too absorbed with excitement at marveling the whole station full of witches and wizards to noticed that their daughter had already left.
"Poor girl…" Ryan thought to himself, "She doesn't deserve this."
Suddenly, something invaded his mind. He was pulled into a quick, dizzying journey through the perspective of someone else's point of view, seeing their memories flashing past like a revolving lantern.
Only then did he realize how he had gotten here.
The first thing to conclude was that this was definitely not a dream.
He couldn't even be bother to explained himself, but this was just too detailed even for a dream. Moreover, as everyone already know, the thought of being in a dream never occurred to those who are dreaming.
In this body, he was no longer in his own body, but rather he was now in the body of a character he didn't even recognize in the books or any of the Harry Potter movies;
Edward Rosenthal.
He lived a very ordinary life from what he could tell, but he didn't have any parents and resides in Briar Lane Children's Home, an orphanage located in Sheffield, South Yorkshire.
When he turned 11, a Hogwarts Professor had come by and informed him that he was a wizard and gave him his letter to attend Hogwarts. Not surprisingly, he accepted and had bought all the necessary books and materials on the list they provided him.
He hadn't realized that all this time, his hand was gripping on a trolley which had all of Edward's luggage's and items that he had intended to brought over to Hogwarts.
Well, it seems like it was his luggage now.
For the time being, he had to blend in if he ever wanted to survive. He'd probably look like a madman if he started spouting off about how none of them were real and that they were all simply characters in a children's story.
In the corridors of the Hogwarts Express, Ryan had made his way to an empty compartment of the train. He struggled to pushed his luggage as with this eleven-year old's body he was comparatively weak, but after a while he manages to pushed it through, and tucked it in the corner of the compartment.
"Fucking hell…" He muttered under his breath, wiping away the sweat from his forehead and closing off the compartment door, before slumping down on the seat with a loud sigh.
As a person who normally sits in front of his monitor, Ryan had already forgotten how exhausting real-world effort could be. At the moment, it was important for him to assessed his current situation.
As of now, it was the 1st of September 1971.
Somehow or someway, he had been transmigrated into the body of a character in the Harry Potter Universe. Aside from the fact that he was a Hogwarts Student, he was probably the most ordinary and connectionless character in the whole roster of characters in the series. He wasn't even mentioned across any of the seven Harry Potter series J.K Rowling had written, nor was there any confirmation or statement that the author had even created him.
Edward was just an extra character; someone whose purpose was to fill out the world and make scenes flow more naturally.
In the eyes of the characters who would play major roles in the series, he was just a speck of dust. No—scratch that. He didn't even deserve to be compared to a speck of dust. At least those kinds of characters had their names mentioned once or twice.
Ryan sighed once more. If he were to ever transmigrate to a book or a work of fiction, he would have at least preferred to inhabit the body of a relevant character. Moreover, he had possibly ended up in one of the worst most possible times in the series.
The first wizarding war was still on going, and the Dark Lord's power was supposed to be at his peak during this particular era. Ryan wondered, what would he even do after he graduates from Hogwarts? Join the war? Work at the ministry? He hasn't even attended his first class and he was already thinking so far ahead into the future. But as long as he was still alive, he was more than happy to do anything that came to his mind.
Then, he heard a whistled sound.
Ryan glanced out the window, watching as the students' parents waved their children goodbye while the train slowly pulled away from the platform. But what caught his eye wasn't the crowd—it was his reflection.
Staring back at him wasn't a thirty-five-year-old man with glasses and a growing belly, but a pale-faced boy with messy black hair with mostly average features. He'd passed a few boys on the way in and, judging by height alone, figured he might be slightly taller than most kids his age.
His age.
Heh. That's strange. It already felt like he was starting to accept the idea that he was Edward now and that those kids weren't just strangers anymore. They were his peers.
Ryan began to wonder how he'd even gotten himself into this situation.
He couldn't really recall much about what had transpired before he woke up in Edward's body. What he did remember was finishing up some last-minute documents his boss had dumped on him late one evening in the office.
He suspected he might've died from overworking himself—right there at his desk.
Now that he thought about it, his heart had been beating irregularly that night. He hadn't slept in nearly three days, and by then, his body had simply had enough and he died from sheer exhaustion on his desk.
But in the end, Ryan was given a second chance in life. He couldn't really complain there, maybe in the coming years he could even do something more productive than being chain to a white-collar job and for that reason alone, he would need to discard his old self and embraced his new role in this new world.
"I am no longer Ryan Carter…" He whispered, then looked out at the window and saw Edward's face and mouth copying his every movement. "From now on, I am Edward Rosenthal."