Never have I written a whole Harry Potter story, but I thought I'd have a crack at it. I hope I do this story justice. It's an amazing series, and I recommend both the stories and the movies. Srsly. JK Rowling is the epitome of badassery, and I bow to her writing skills. That is all.

This story takes place after the war

Evelyn POV.

"Evie! Hurry up, dinner's getting' cold!"

My mother, Daniela, had ordered me home not 2 minutes ago over the phone, and I glanced around the park that I had been half-pipe skating in for the last hour and a half with my two best friends, Dylan and Jason. I nodded to them, and went to snatch my dark blue beanie from atop Dyl's head, but he grabbed my wrist and nudged me away.

I had known both of these jackasses since middle school, and ever since I met them on our first day, we've been best friends. Dylan and Jason were fraternal twins, so they aren't identical. Dylan was lanky, standing at a strong 6 foot 5, and was only 17 years old, as was I, and had big, bright, wide-spaced green eyes with tanned skin and light freckles along his cheekbones and nose bridge. Jason, on the other hand, was 5 foot 11, with short, dark brown hair, that he usually combed over, at the heavy teasing of both Dyl and I, with bright blue eyes and tanned skin.

"Listen, douche bag, give it back!"

I pushed my fist into his forehead, flicking it lightly, moving his head a little, and I took this as a moment of opportunity, snatching it off from his mop of curly, light brown hair, and jumping from the ledge of the u-shaped ramp, wheeling away on my 4 year old, black and white, Aztec-styled maple board.

He flipped me off, and I returned the gesture with a toothy grin, and a slight, sarcastic wave. After cutting across a street, travelling a few blocks, and finally chipping the curb a little, landing on my feet and holding my board in my right hand, walking into my two-storey, typical metropolitan house. I walked in, slipping off my red Chuck Taylors' and sashayed through the foyer and living room, straight into the dining room, sliding on the laminated floors, shouting, "I'm home!"

I startled my mother, Daniela Kendall, and I saw her jump, as she had been facing away from me, placing the dinner on the table. I laughed, and received a light knock on my forehead, and felt her snatch my beanie off, saying, "You know the rules."

I rolled my eyes, and kissed her cheek, as well as my father's when he walked in, after arriving from golf, with his work buddies.

I smirked up at his tall figure, and asked, "Halo papa, how was le golf?"

He chuckled a little, and kissed my forehead, saying, "Good, Evie, how are Jase and Dyl?"

I laughed, and said, "They're great. Skating was awesome, I'll show you some tricks later on, if you'd like?"

He wrapped his arms around my mid-section and nudged me towards the table, mussing my hair up in the process. I was never one for make-up, or straightening, so it didn't bother me much. I sat in my usual seat, located opposite my mother, and on my father's left side. As soon as my mother finished saying grace, we all dug into our feast fit for a royal.

My favourite combo; barbeque tagliatelle with white sauce and chicken strips. Lord have mercy, there was no way this meal was going to stand a chance in hell against me. Thankfully, my mom knew me well enough to make extras, and you better believe I went back for more. Once. Twice. Three times. And by the end of it, I was ready to burst.

When I glanced out the window, I noticed that it was now dark and decided against going back outside, and sluggishly trudged upstairs, into my room, dragging myself to lay face up, on my outrageously comfortable bed, and just relaxed. For about 5 minutes.

Over the years, I've realised that I never could stay very still for long, and I usually ended up pacing, like a crackpot, up and down the length of my room, doing anything to occupy myself. That habit is what got me into my hobbies. Instead of wasting my days, doing nothing, and procrastinating like a champion, I would use my boredom to better myself.

Skateboarding, reading, writing, playing instruments, learning different languages and facts about anything and everything I could find was something I prided myself on. People assumed because I was a skater, I was a stoner. Because I read, I was a know-it-all. Because I could play instruments, I was indie. Because I dressed a certain way, people made assumptions about me. All these different stereotypes almost made me laugh, if they weren't so fucking annoying. I couldn't go a single day at high school without one person commenting on my social, or lack thereof, life.

Dyl, Jase and I would always stick together, protecting one another from all the douchebags we call peers. We make our own little 'clique' of sorts, and we shared majority of our classes together. Although they looked slow, the twins were whiz-kids when it came to academia. It was laughable how much people underestimated them, but what can you do?

I felt my phone vibrate on my mahogany desk, and after checking the called I.D to see that it read 'DYL', I answered.

"Hey, Evelyn, how are you doing?"

Instantly I was suspicious. He never called me Evelyn. It was always either 'douche', 'fucktard' or 'midget'. It wasn't my fault I barely scraped 5 foot. I couldn't even blame my mother either, because I was adopted Hey, I liked being tiny. You know what they say, good things come in small packages!

"What do you want, Dyl?"

He chuckled, idiotically, down the phone, and replied, "Nothing really."

I groaned, and responded, "Okay, now I know something's wrong. What the hell's going on?"

He cleared his throat, and replied, "Well.. You know, Jase and I wanted to do something special for your birthday, so you're coming over tomorrow night. No questions asked."

I laughed, and replied, "Yeah, of course. You guys are my lifelines. I'll spend some time with my 'rents, and then I'll come find you guys."

He chuckled, and made a small sound of agreement in the back of his throat, and I said, "Okay, goodnight, Dyl. Tell Jase I said hi, okay?"

He said, "Yeah, will do, shortie. We'll see you tomorrow."

I had just finished circling my room for the 36th time when I heard the faint growling of the eldest member of the Kendall clan. Juju, my Staffordshire bull terrier. In dog years, she's older than my father. Initially, she had been left stranded with her dying mother, and already dead siblings, having found shelter underneath the beach pier, and I located them after going out for a skate under and around the dock, searching for shells to add to my then-current obsession; beach residue.

Her mother, a beautiful specimen that seemed to be wasting away in front of my eyes and I just couldn't see it happen to the more or less infant pup settled between her hind legs. She had been so small, so fragile, she wouldn't have survived the night, let alone feeding an infant pup, so upon a silent promise and agreement, I cuddled Juju to my chest, and waited until her mother had passed away, under the light petting of my hand.

I buried her, and her stillborn offspring, giving them a ceremony fit for creatures as beautiful as they had been, and I took Juju home with me. After that night, 7 years ago, we became the best of friends. The 10 year old me, and the newborn her were inseparable. Nothing could get in between us.

She followed me to and from my lessons that were held here for me, as a child, and always kicked up a huge fuss whenever I would have to go to elementary and middle school, even now as I attend high school, she dotes on every single word I say, and I her. Ever since she first whined in my direction, she had a hold on my heart. My little Juju; my best friend.

6 months ago, we had an addition to our growing pack, of sorts, and I called him Rokai. At first, Juju hated him - she thought of him as a threat, probably in a competition for my love or something, but she completely shunned his entire being. Whenever the chocolate-coloured pug puppy toddled into a room wherever I was in, Juju would stake a claim and growl menacingly at him, until he cried and shuffled away.

I had to force them to get comfortable with each other, so one day, I manoeuvred both of my beauties in the same room, with me in the centre, and, after a few hours of coaxing, it ended with Rokai in my lap, with Juju seated behind me, all of us holding each other in a tight embrace, completely comfortable with each other. I was glad for that, as Rokai and Juju were both two parts of my whole. I loved them both eternally, and I couldn't imagine life without either one of them.

Currently, Rokai was cuddled in his basket in the corner of my bedroom, with Juju in the centre of my bed, curled in on himself.

"Evie, come down here, sweetheart!"

My mom hollered for me from downstairs, and by her tone of voice, I knew something serious was going on. I uncurled my legs from beneath my form, and quickly, ran down the staircase, feeling the mushroom brown shag carpet scrunch beneath my feet, comfortingly.

"Yes, mamma, what's crackin'?"

I had begun speaking before I had even stepped into the living room, and I couldn't help but let the breath catch in my throat as I found my parents weren't exactly alone in the living room. As a matter of fact, there were more than one person in the living are that I couldn't quite recognise, sitting, rather comfortably, if I do say so myself, and with amused gleams shining in their eyes.

I rubbed the base of my palm against the middle of my forehead and whispered, "Dang.. This is a little awkward."

New story, sweethearts.

Read, review, and I hope you liked it!