𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. James Fleamont Potter

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄. The Beginning

𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐋𝐎𝐆𝐔𝐄. The Beginning...

𝐎𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟏𝟔, 𝟏𝟗𝟖𝟏

It was dark times in the Wizarding world. The Dark Lord had fully risen and nothing could stop him. Or so he thought.

It seemed as though one Death Eater— follower of The Dark Lord— and his wife were not happy about this. They hated the idea of a dark wizard taking over their community, they hated the idea of raising a child in a dark world, the reason they joined, was to spy for The Order Of The Pheonix. A secret organization made to stop 'He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named' or in other words 'Voldemort'.

When The Dark Lord found out about their betrayal— thanks to Bellatrix Lestrange— he threatened them with killing their eleven-month-old baby, but not before forcing information out of them, but they of course didn't say a word. Lucky for them The Order members got there just in time before they were killed.

Which brought them to a decision they would eventually have to make. For the sake of the future as Dumbledore— the leader of the secret organization—  always said to them.

The same night was dark, cold and rainy, often, foggy in Scotland. When Elizabeth Hale Hendrix and Benjamin Hendrix decided to do something they would regret for a long time. It's not like they weren't expecting this, no, they knew this day was to come, they just didn't want to accept it at the time, but now that they were actually there the were heart-broken. Heart-broken that they weren't going to see their child grow up, see her first steps, her first words, to see her reaction to her first wand. No, they were going to miss it all.

They stood in front of a muggle orphanage, hesitating to knock on the door so that someone could take their little girl in. They were saying their final goodbyes— goodbyes that would last for a long time and would hurt the little girl in so many ways.

'To keep her safe' they kept trying to remind themselves. But it was useless, they stayed there for a solid of twenty minutes telling themselves that they were horrible parents. But they did that silently.

Before they officially knocked the thick wooden doors, they wrote a short letter explaining small details about themselves so that she could get at least the slightest idea about them and to also explain somethings that she would later understand when she'd turn 10 or 11.

Iris Erin Hendrix was an eleven-month-old baby when her parents knocked the double, wooden doors to basically throw her away— at least that's what they thought.

They apparated around the corner and peeked to see a blonde woman frowning. She picked a crying Iris up and swayed her side to side, trying to calm her down. 

"What did you find there Lee?" An old lady came into view holding an umbrella, trying to see what the noise was about.

"We've got another one, Sam." Lee said with sadly, knitting her eyebrows together.

"Oh darn it, that's the second one this month, well, what are you waiting for? Bring it inside, we can't afford it getting sick." Sam said motioning for her to get in quickly.

Lee nodded and obeyed.

They closed the doors, not sparing to look around, knowing that the babies parents probably wouldn't be back. That was the last time the Hendrix's saw their little girl. Elizabeth started to tear up, she gave one final look at the direction of the doors then faced her husband. His nose was red but there were no tears falling. She flung herself to his arms and started sobbing. He held her tightly, squeezing her ever so often to assure that he was there for her.