Disclaimer: Yada, yada, I don't own HP and characters, yada, yada.

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(Thirty-two hours ago)

Beep-beep. 'Stupid alarm.' Beep-beep. 'Annoying, buzzing,' Beep-beep. 'and disturbing the peace. Not like a girl should have to get up in the morning anyways.' Beep-beep.

Whack!………

"Ugh. Great…also … stupid sun. Why is… that… window… angled… right so… light…. hits… face… morning… prevent… sweet…warm… slumber." Chantal grumbled incoherently due to her face was at that point covered by her pillow.

There was no use in staying in bed, because she might fall back asleep. Also, there was no Hermione to pound on the door to make sure she was punctual on arriving to breakfast. Now that thought did not help her mood. 'Missing friends that are bedridden is no fun. She can't even complain about it. It's only Hermione's second year in school and she's been out for so long she'll be wearing paths into the library floors and will live, eat, and sleep schoolwork when she's up and about again. Well, more than usual that is. Not like she'll get behind with all the stuff she knows having her head in books all the time. Even with being Petrified for so long she'll still be ahead in all her classes.'

'All her know-how in magic was the reason I met her. She helped me quite a bit over the last months,' she pondered over it as she was still deciding whether to roll out of bed or not.

It was Hermione's broad knowledge in magic that led Chantal to meeting her. Hermione had helped her quite a bit over the last months since Chantal had come to Hogwarts. During this reminiscing, Chantal managed to pull her body out of bed. 'Goodbye nice, comfy, fluffy white comforter,' she sighed as she went to the wardrobe and put on her uniform which consisted of a pair of snug dress slacks and the regular school blouse and vest.

Chantal had absolutely refused to wear the skirt of the girl's uniform. She had argued about it not being warm enough in a castle, that it limited physical activities that may be required of her in class, and that it was outright sexist. Dumbledore had listened to her rants with what she had assumed was amusement. She still was not quite sure how she managed to get out of it, but Dumbledore had let her wear pants, probably seeing that she had gone through enough culture shock as 'she was from America and unaccustomed to all the differences.'

She headed into her bathroom splashed some cold water on her face in hopes to chase away the remainders of sleep. She needed to catch up with Fred and George during breakfast. They could always brighten her day. That or they seemed to get her extremely temperamental. 'Oh well,' she shrugged brushing her teeth.

After going from pajamas to more publicly accepted clothes she went to the mirror to brush out her long hair. The sandy-gold had hints of dark brown or black depending on the light and copper through the slightly curved strands. She wrapped it in to a loose bun held up by two black spiraled hair-chopsticks, leaving the low bangs pushed to the sides framing her face. Since she stayed in a lot, her skin remained an ivory tone. Her parents' friends called her features delicate yet mature for her age. She had a somewhat heart-shaped face with a medium size nose and mouth, and eyebrows defined yet not plucked to be extremely thin. Then there were her eyes: alert almond-shaped eyes of hazel that seemed to darken the further away one is. She was not some classic beauty that is thin and tall. Her height was just three inches over five feet. She had slightly muscled limbs, smaller hands and feet than average, and unfortunately, in her opinion, some curves.

"Don't know why girls want the hour-glass look, gets in the way more often than not. Those skinny girls don't have the trouble with clothes not fittin' well. Thank goodness for the help of some enchanted tailoring," she chuckled.

When she had first came to Hogwarts she hadn't known much anything about magic. Her powers had previously been blocked because her family had gone into hiding due to a certain dark wizard going bonkers. When she turned eleven, she had not gone to the school that would teach her how to control the powers that she did not know she had. Man, was it a shock for her when she found out.

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(three years ago)

"Chantel?" a kind woman in her forties spoke to her daughter.

"Yeah mum?" Chantal looked curiously towards her mother and father who sat across from her in their homey living room.

"Well, dear, we haven't been exactly truthful over the years. No, you weren't adopted," her mother interrupted before Chantal could ask, "The thing is… your father and I used to live a very different lifestyle before you were born. And no we did not smoke pot or drive around in hippie buses." Chantal slumped in disappointment since it would have been a funny scenario to tease her parents about.

"What your mother was saying was that there was a group of people that were making our lifestyles very dangerous to raise a baby in. So when you were born we left those lives behind and moved here to Washington to keep you safe," her father was using his 'serious business' voice as he watched her for some sign that he was explaining too much too quickly.

"So why are you telling me this now?" Chantal tried to keep her self from sounding like she was being a smart ass.

"We think you are old enough to understand the situation. And secondly, the group of people from before are no longer a threat to us," her mother was starting to look nervous, especially with her hands fidgeting as they were.

"So what's the big secret?" she asked impatiently. It couldn't be anything all that big or life altering, unless her parents were cross dressers or something. She examined her parents. 'That would be a little weird.'

"Your mother and I can do magic," her father said solemnly. 'Excuse me?' she thought, eyebrows shooting up.

"Oh, don't worry. You can too, sweetie. We just bound your magic when you were young so your powers weren't apparent," her mother said in rushed excitement.

Chantal looked at her parents with one eyebrow raised thinking her parents were either playing some practical joke, which was not in their characters, or they had completely lost their minds. Her parents remained where they were, her dad looking his usual calm self and her mum was looking at her eagerly. Yes, her parents were absolutely bonkers, one hundred percent off their rockers. Their brains had flown the coop. They had lost their marbles. They had to be. Here she was with her parents in their average American living room with their green and blue furniture, plain fireplace, family photos hung on the walls, and TV by the windows, in an average American neighborhood, and her parents were telling her that they and she could do magic. She had not seen that one coming.

"So you're saying we're witches or something like that?" she asked, not able to hide her disbelieving tone and 'are you crazy' look.

"That's right! Except your father is a wizard, him being male and whatnot," her mother smiled happily.

"Uhuh," was all Chantal could manage.

"Fine, watch and see," and with that her mother took some sort of stick from her pocket and waved in the air while saying something Chantal did not catch.

Suddenly, the coffee table was floating four feet in the air before her. Another swish from the stick and her mother's china plates were flying around the room doing gravity defying feats. So most normal people would understand Chantal's next action, which was to fall off the couch in a dead faint.

"Quinn, do you think the plates were too much?" Irene asked her husband as she looked over the floating table down at her daughter.

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Okay, sorry for cutting it short, but I really wanted to end on something funny since it will be pretty serious in most of the next chapter. Anyways, what do you think? If you have any pointers or advise I would love to hear it. I'm not sure about if the intro was any good so I need some feedback, thanks.