The Arising Dawn | Book 1 of the Hogwarts Series |

Prologue

" You don't have to do this, Regie!" Begged a man. He was in his twenty, wearing black shorts and a white t-shirt turned inside out. The hurry was so big that he didn't have time to properly dress himself. He just suddenly ran out of his house and down the street, looking to the sky like a madman, screaming "Regina!"

A woman stared at the man, with her eyebrows frowned and her lips curled down. Her eyes were filled with sorrow. Suddenly, almost immediatly, they became blank, as if they were brimmed with hate.

"Don't call me Regie, you lowlife. What right do you have to address me that way?" Her voice was staggering, stabbing him like a cold knife.

The woman, with short dark hair and grey eyes tainted with a scorn look, was wearing a black cloak that covered her whole body. Her feet were harboring long and silver high heeled boots, and the stranger thing was... That she was impossibly flying on a weird looking broom.

That didn't seem to disturb the man, who was staring at her sorrowfully.

"Regina, don't be like this..." He started to speak once again, with his head raised up high, his voice nearly breaking. "You don't have to go! Stay with me!" He implored.

"I..." She shook her head, as if, for a second, she just made a mistake. A sneer left her mouth. "Don't look for me, because you won't find me. Don't call my name, because I won't come. And... Don't love me, because I will not love you back."

Her words seemed to have hit him straight in his heart, like an arrow that couldn't miss its target, leaving a hole, deep and scarred.

He remained silent. Maybe that quote left him speechless and made him lose all hope towards her, but even so, deep inside, he still didn't want her to go. Because he was already deeply and unexpectedly in love with that woman.

Her trembling, grey eyes glanced at him, almost like she was about to cry, and took her leave, flying towards the dark night and disappearing in the vast sky.

He fell on his knees and a tear seemed to roll down his cheek. He cleaned his face roughly, thinking that he shouldn't cry. Not now, not for her, whom he loved more than anyone else, and left him, like a thunder hits a scrap of metal.

He thought that would be the last night that he would ever hear something about her, but he thought wrong.

Almost a year has passed and the same man was lying down on his couch with an empty bottle of whisky on his hand, hopeless. His house was a disaster, full of trash, dirty clothes all around the floor and an unbearable smell on the air.

After she left, he didn't have strength to go on. That woman left him a mess and he didn't do anything to get up on his feet.

He suddenly heard a strong struck on the front door. The bottle fell down on the floor, scattering the glass around.
"Shit!" He groaned, while getting up and rubbing his eyes. "Coming!"

He walked towards the door and smelled his armpit. It smelled horribly. He didn't even remember the last time he took a decent bath.
The man grabbed the handle and opened the door, to see... Nobody standing there.

"Seriously?" He scratched his forehead and let out a sigh. "I'm too old for these kind of pranks..."

He was about to close the door when he heard a mumble near the ground.

There was a little basket, shaped like a moon, with a spattered, patched piece of black cloth on top of it. For a moment he thought it was stained with blood.

The man kneeled down and uncovered the basket. He saw a little baby.

Gasping, he looked, with his eyes wide open, to the right and to the left. He looked once again. Nothing. He couldn't see anyone on the street. Sure, it was late, but the baby wouldn't appear there... magicaly... Somehow, from what he had been through, that didn't seem the right word.

He stared at the baby, and noticed, on his side, an envelope.
He reached to grab it and opened it.

Richard,

When I left, it seemed I was pregnant. I didn't know back then. I found myself incapable of taking care of this child. Do whatever you want with that creature. She might be a squib just like you or...

He didn't dare to read the rest. Just by knowing that he had a child was amazing. He almost forgot how to breathe.

Richard looked, once again, to the letter, which he thought was strange, because of the handwriting, but, even though, he decided to continue.

... a witch just like me. I hope she isn't, because I do not want to see her face before me.

Regina.

He put the letter again on the basket and touched the child's face. It was cold. He then realized it was freezing outside.

He grabbed the basket, carefuly, and went inside with the baby.

Richard took him out of the basket and held him in his arms, wrapped on the cloth.

"Hello, little one." He said, with a simple smile, but happy and caring.

He, then, recalled what was written in the letter. Regina had used the pronoum 'she'.

Gasping loudly, the mister checked under the dirty cloth.

"I have a daughter!" He shouted, hystericaly.

He looked at her, with a docile grin and caressed her small cheek. He then examined his surroundings.

"Sorry about the mess..." He grinned, awkwardly.

Richard stared into the little girl's eyes. Azure, like the evening sky in the summer. Just like his.

"What will I call you?" He thought of different names that could suit her, when one came to mind. "Aurora" He spelled.

"My mother's name is Aurora. She is incredibly beautiful. And has the same eyes as we have."

He leaned on closer and kissed her forehead. The hope he had lost was finally found and the big hole he had on his chest was fulfilled by her warmth. She gave him a purpose again.