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There she was. Sitting alone by the window staring at the kids playing around outside in front of the orphanage. Her eyes lingered on the kids, her soft brown hair blowing gently in her face as the window was open for her just slightly. She as been left here since she was a year old because her father had left her alone-- well, she wasn't alone at all actually. Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa Malfoy, and Severus Snape were guarding her while her father was out but, of course, she didn't know that. In fact, Amara didn't know she was the daughter of the most powerful evil wizard that everyone was afraid of and that she was magic herself.
The girl was raised just like her father. Thrown around by kids that despised her and was called names. She was destined to find her father. She wanted to be exactly like him...
Oh only if she knew how bad he was to everyone...
Amara wasn't the one to look for her mother. Why? She died. Just after she gave birth to beautiful Amara. Her mother never got to look or hold her in her own precious arms. Though she did have a picture of her mother. She was the most gorgeous woman Tom had ever met. She had shoulder length brown hair and dark blue eyes with fair skin. Amara almost looked like her except she had her fathers eyes and skin tone.
Truth was Tom never really loved his "wife". He only wanted a Heir to take over his place when he was dead. Course, he never thought it would be a girl but he did know women have their ways of being powerful. He didn't like underestimating powerful women who he knew that would over power him, but he never met a woman powerful enough.
The day Tom took his daughter home he knew she would be the most powerful witch by his side. Then three weeks after she turned a year old her father was gone and she was left alone at the orphanage. Though she should be glad she wasn't raised in Azkaban with Bellatrix.
A knock was then heard at her door.
"Come in," Amara spoke softly, eyes not leaving the window.
A young woman who looked like she was in her early twenties walked in the room with two letters in her hands, a smile plastered on her lips. "I have a little something for you, Amara."
The little girl turned her head around to look at the woman and saw the letters in her hands. She lifted her head up while squinting her eyes.
"What's that?" Amara asked, pointing at the parchment. "These are your little somethings, my love," the woman said and carefully sat down on the bed next to her. "What's so important about two pieces of parchment, Mary?" the young girl questioned.
"Well one of them is from this school and this other one is supposably from your father I'm guessing."
Now that was enough to get Amara's interest.
"My father? Isn't he dead?"
"This was from before he died!"
The girl reached her hand out and yanked the letter from Mary's hand making her jump just slightly at the speed. Amara ripped it open and the woman chuckled at her excitement then left the other letter on the table in front of the window.
