Author's Note: Just fyi, I do not own J.K. Rowling's Harry Potter series, nor do I claim to! No copyright infringement.

Chapter 1: Late Bloomer

I remember my life being a lot more ordinary than it is now. But then again, I guess a person's life isn't ever "ordinary." But I could say, for the most part, it was normal. Unlike myself.

Oh, don't get me wrong. I'm not saying that I was special or anything. I was a brunette with hair that just went past my shoulders, and had dark brown eyes. Most would call my hair black, but I would tell them that they were wrong. It actually is some sort of shade called deepest of brown, which has a close resemblance to black, but anytime I explain that, I always come off kind of pompous and pedantic, neither of which, I was. I guess when you call something deepest shade of anything, it will always come off more beautiful than it really is. Just plain average.

Like most teenage girls, I had entered the awkward stage of womanhood, more specifically in my fourteenth year. I was five foot six and a hundred and twenty one pounds of pure attitude. I had thicker eyebrows than most girls, but my dad said I still had a feminine face. He said I was the spitting image of my late mother, Clara Evermore. But since I never knew my mother, that wasn't exactly reassuring. Looking feminine, I was far from girly. To most, I'd look like an average tomboy, but up against male soccer players, I was a force to be reckoned with. I had muscular legs from running and playing soccer, gangly arms that have been worn down with drills, and virtually had no curves, even though everyone in my age group had started puberty in the sixth grade.

Still had to wear deodorant, though. I smelled terrible after practice without puberty, even worse than the guys I practiced with. So the first chance he had, my dad went to the local drugstore to pick up a stick or five of Degree deodorant. Aside from that and the not-so-friendly "Aunt Flo" that visited monthly, nothing else had developed.

My neighbor Tilly called it "being a late bloomer." I'm not exactly sure what she was referring to budding or blooming, but nothing upstairs was doing anything of the sort. Still, she forced me to go shopping for those god-awful Victoria Secret bras. But I loved her anyways (she finally caved to my sports bras idea). She was like the mom I had never known.

Even a "late bloomer," I was normal. I woke up, went to school, hung out with friends, did my homework, babysat, acted rebellious, just like any other American teenager.

I had a slightly broken and put together family. But my life was NORMAL! At least, in my case, it was- or, I should say, use to be.

Well, apparently, even that couldn't prepare me for the moment that changed my entire outlook on life.

My name is Jenaveve Evermore, and this is the story of the day my life changed forever.