Name: Lemma Palmer

House: Ravenclaw

Assignment : Gardening, task 1

Summary: Irie is a Year Four, and is a muggleborn during Voldemort's return. Death Eaters are after her, for an unknown reason, and she's forced to flee from her human parents, in an attempt to save them. But she has to make a sacrifice to do so.

Irie ran through the forest, her new dress snagging on the branches. Her feet knew exactly where to go, as she had been on this trail many a time. But today Irie had a great risk she was taking.

Ducking under a bush, Irie waited anxiously for the cursed Death Eaters to fly by. They'd been searching, tracking, and hunting for the small girl, and would stop for nothing. Irie thought it was on account of her mother and father being muggles. But there wasn't anything special about her, was there?

As black smoke drifted past the small bush, Irie let out a sigh. She got onto her feet once more, and trekked up the path torwards her secret hideout. When she became in sight of it, Irie felt relief flow through her. Even though it was only a small, crooked, tumbledown shack, its existence was only welcoming to Irie.

What happened next, was terrifying.

Irie had her hand on the door knob, right as it flew open. Three men, clad in black, with intricate, yet creepy, masks stalked out into the open. One laughed menacingly.

"Well, well, well, look who we have here." One said. Irie pushed her long brown braid behind her shoulder, and took out her slender wand from a pocket in her dress. Thankfully it hadn't been ripped.

"Ooh, fisty are we?" Another one snarled, revealing his own wand. The other two did so as well.

"What could a puny, arrogant mudblood do against us, experienced, elderly pure blooded wizards?" said another. Irie felt her cheeks burn, her neck heat creep up, and her hands shake.

"You're just a bunch of ruthless, bloodthirsty villains!" Irie spat, shakily holding up her wand.

"Funny, we're not fighting with wands today." One remarked. Irie growled, and took aim, saying,

"Stupefy!"

He dodged the spell, but it rebounded off a tree, spiraling torwards Irie. She ducked, and it hit a death eater behind the girl. One down, two to go.

"So that's how you want to play." One growled, flicking imaginary dust off of his sleeve. But the other Death Eater said,

"Wait, let us use . . . it."

Irie scowled, and threw another spell. But it was dodged. Same with the next. And the next.

"You filthy, sons of a-" Irie stopped her remark, as one of the Death Eaters pulled out a small, circular flask.

"Expelliarmus!" Irie yelled, sending the flask to the ground. Immediately, it's top opened, sending a sickly sweet perfume throughout the forest. Irie dropped her wand, falling onto her knees. It was calling her to sleep. But Irie knew what was happening, and she fought it.

She thought of her happiest memories. That time when her best friend Freyja had first talked to her. The day of her Hogwarts acceptance letter. When she won the school spelling bee back in third grade. And lastly, her first ever memory. The day of her very first roller coaster ride. It was a kiddy one, yes. But that had been special.

The drugs still pulled at her, urging Irie to surrender. She fought, but her mind began to cloud, and her vision became blurry. The Death Eaters were laughing, not affected at all, at Irie's drugged state.

She wouldn't. Shouldn't. Had to.

Irie felt herself fall onto the grass, her legs and hands seized. She glimpsed her wand being snapped, feeling something pulled out of her.

But that was it. Suddenly, Irie's consciousness dim, and black swirled about her.

Endless black. Timeless black.

Drugged. Surrender. Defeat.