Author's Note: This story follows DH except the epilogue and takes place in the year 2008. It will be mainly set in Abigail's POV unless it says at the beginning of the chapter it's in someone else's. I may also change points of view throughout the chapters, but it will say so. I think that's all I need to say for now. Enjoy!

Chapter One: The Question She Dreads Hearing.

"Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Abigail! Happy birthday to you!"

"Make a wish," my mother whispered in my ear.

I closed my eyes and thought of the thing I wanted so much in the world. It was the same wish that would come to my head every single birthday and every time I thought it, I hoped it would come true. I leaned over my birthday cake and blew out all ten candles in one go.

"Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

I smiled to myself, feeling very special as my friends and Mum celebrated my birthday with me, my tenth birthday in fact.

Mum then started cutting the cake and ordered the kids to get in a line so that there wouldn't be a stampede to try and be the first person to get a piece of chocolate cake. None of them would be the first to get their piece of cake I was sorry to say. The first person to get a piece would be me because I was the birthday girl after all.

Sure enough, Mum handed the first piece of cake to me. To me, it was perfect. She had gotten Devil's Food Cake, my absolute favourite.

I ate in silence for awhile, watching the other kids gobble down their piece of cakes so fast that crumbs were getting on our nice carpet that Mum worked so hard to keep clean. I could see her frowning out of the corner of my eye and her hand reaching into her pocket. I knew what she had in there, but she wouldn't dare pull it out while my friends were there. They didn't understand our background; who we really were.

At last, it was time for me to bid my friends farewell as they were getting picked up by their parents. They all hugged me in turn, once again wishing me a happy birthday before being bustled out of the apartment by their parents. Now I was alone with my mother.

Before I could ask her anything, she drew her wand out of her pocket and muttered a spell under her breath, wiping away the crumbs created by the cake eating kids. She then waved her wand again and the wrapping paper from me opening my presents disappeared. I watched her do all this with such amazement on my face. I had seen her do all this before, every day in fact, but it still amazed me every time.

She turned to me, seeing the look on my face. "Don't worry, Abby; you'll be able to that yourself in a year. This time next year, you'll be holding a wand in your right hand."

She handed me her wand and I twirled it round between my fingers, imagining it was my wand and that it was emitting sparks. No sooner had the thought crossed my mind, small red and green sparks emitted from the wand, lighting up my face. I gaped in astonishment and gave the wand back to Mum.

She grinned at me. "Just think, Abigail, in one year you'll be at Hogwarts."

"Yeah…I can't wait," I replied, looking up at my mother. "I won't be seeing my friends again would I?"

She hesitated as if she was wondering that herself. "I don't know," she answered. "I mean, you can see them in the summer holidays and catch up then. When I went to Hogwarts –" she paused, "- I had Muggle friends, but I didn't really keep in touch with them. Think of how confused you would be if you saw an owl deliver you a letter –"

"But it's not confusing," I pointed out. "It's natural. Much easier and faster to get our mail than have a person deliver it."

"But that's because we're used to it," Mum said, bending down and giving me a hug. "You've seen owls deliver most of our mail ever since you can remember."

"Why can't Muggles use our system too?" I pouted. "Sometimes they are really stupid."

"You sound like your father," she mumbled, shaking her head. My eyes widened at the mention of my father and I moved back to see Mum have a dark frown upon her face.

"I sound like Daddy?" I asked excitedly.

"That's not something to be proud of," she said coldly, and stood up, gathering the plates and going into the kitchen. I followed her, not wanting to drop the subject about my father.

"Who's my father, Mummy?" I asked, sitting down at the kitchen counter as Mum flicked her wand for the dishes to clean themselves.

"This is not the time to talk about him, Abigail," she said briskly, directing the dishes to the cupboards and stacking them. I groaned in defeat. She always said this every time I asked her.

"When are you going to tell me about him, Mummy?" I demanded in a whiny voice. "Everyone else knows who their daddy is and lives with them!"

"You're not everyone else, Abigail," she snapped, getting a cloth and wiping the kitchen counter down.

"Where is he? Why isn't he with us?"

"I can't tell you, Abby, you're too young to understand."

"Why do you keep saying that? Stop saying I wouldn't understand anything that happened! I'm not three, Mum, I'm ten. It hurts me not to know who my father is and wondering whether he knows about me. Please, Mum, just tell me…"

"No, Abigail! I'm not telling you about him and that's final! You are too young to understand why he couldn't be here and you are not to speak of him, young lady, for a long time. Do you understand?"

"How long would a long time be, Mummy?" I snarled, folding my arms. I wasn't giving up yet.

"Till you're fourteen. Do you understand me, Abigail?"

All the courage I had left of asking more questions about him left me and I stared at the floor, slightly ashamed of myself. "Yes mother," I muttered, not looking at her and instead staring at my shoes.

"Good. Now go and get ready for bed."

I got off the chair and headed down the hallway to my room to get ready for bed. Damn, I thought I was going to get close to learning who he was this year. I was so sure of it. He must have been really bad to Mum as she never wanted to talk about him and even if she did, it was something insulting. She always does this every year though, I ask her the same question and she always refuses to answer.

I guess it's time I introduce myself. My name is Abigail Granger and I'm ten years old today as you know.

I am the daughter of Hermione Granger, the brightest student Hogwarts had ever seen and a part of the 'Golden Trio', which was a nickname for her and her two best friends Harry Potter and Ron Weasley. Together, they had travelled to find Horcruxes and destroy them, eventually killing Lord Voldemort, the most evil wizard of all time. It had been Harry that did it; 'The Chosen One,' had rid the world of the evil and ended the era of the Death Eaters.

Unfortunately, I have never had the honour of meeting the Wizard Hero that Mum was best friends with or Ron Weasley for that matter. Mum has just told me about them, their days at Hogwarts and the adventures they had as part of my bedtime stories. She herself hasn't seen them or spoken to them for nearly eleven years.

The reason? Well, apparently it's about me and my father. Ron was dating Mum and found out she was pregnant with someone else's child and left her. He knows who the father is, that's for sure, otherwise he would have stayed and raised me as if I was his own. Ha, as if I want some stranger raising me and expecting me to call them 'Daddy', even though he wouldn't be my father to begin with.

In fact, after I was born, Mum had decided to cut herself from the wizardry world altogether and try to adapt to life in the Muggle world by having a job as an accountant and sending me to a Muggle school. She still uses her wand around the house, though, and made sure I am aware of my capabilities and know when it would be time for me to go to Hogwarts.

I'm fine with living with Mum and all, but I miss having a father around. Of course, Mum won't tell me who he is, as I have said before. I know I must look like him though; I have long bushy white blonde hair and bluey grey eyes. Mum's hair is bushy too, but it's brown and so are her eyes. Both of our faces are the same shape and structure, but my face is paler than hers…and it's got nothing to do with how much sun we get. I wouldn't know if I look like him though as I've never seen a picture of him.

The only things I know about my father is that I sometimes have his arrogant selfish attitude (which Mum works very hard to squash out), he loved to bully other people, used to call Mum a 'Mudblood' and was turned into a ferret once and bounced around the room. I have never given up hope that Mum would either tell me who he was or that he would suddenly turn up one day, hearing that I actually existed and sweep Mum off her feet. She gives me a dark look every time I tell her about my wonderful dream.

"Abigail? Are you ready for bed yet?"

"Almost," I called out. I stopped brushing my teeth and spat the toothpaste into the sink. I then turned the tap on and filled a cup with the water, rinsing my mouth out. I tipped the rest of the water into the sink, washing out the rest of the toothpaste and headed into my room. I got under the covers just as Mum walked in.

"Hey my little one, what story do you want to hear about tonight?" she asked, sitting down on the bed. "Since it's your birthday, you can request any story you like."

I leaned against the pillows, thinking. "Tell me the story about Harry and Ron rescuing you from the troll."

Mum smiled and held my hand and starting the story off in the same way as she started all of her stories "Well, in a castle not too long ago…"

There was a small twelve year old girl by the name of Hermione Granger. She had no friends as no one liked her and thought she was too bossy and smart for her own good.

One day in Charms, they were learning about how to cast Wingardium Leviosa and Hermione got the spell first go, hovering the white feather four feet above everyone's heads. One of her classmates, Ron, complained about her after class and commented that "she's a nightmare". Hermione heard him talk about her and got very upset about it so she hid in the girls' toilets to cry and didn't go to the rest of her classes for the rest of the afternoon.

Meanwhile, down at the Halloween feast, word had spread round that a troll had gotten into the school and was in the dungeons. Hermione was still at the bathroom at the time and didn't hear about it until the troll entered the bathroom in which she was hiding and got locked in with it.

She heard something come in and walked out of her cubicle to see a twelve foot troll growling at her and holding a huge wooden club. She screamed and fell down the wall, absolutely terrified at what she was seeing. She was sure this was the end, no one was around to come and save her, she was going to die in the girls' bathroom and no one would ever give a damn…

Suddenly, she heard the door open again and two boys, Harry and Ron ran inside, looks of panic on both of their faces.

"Confuse it!" Harry said desperately to Ron and he seized a tap, throwing it at the wall. The troll stopped in his tracks, feet away from Hermione and saw Harry standing there. He lifted his club and moved towards the small first year.

"Oy, pea-brain!" Ron yelled from the other side of the bathroom and threw a mental pipe at the troll.

The troll heard him and moved towards him. Harry ran around the troll and tried to get Hermione to run, but she was rooted to the spot in terror. Ron now had nowhere to run and was trapped. Harry then took a running jump and wrapped his arms round the troll's neck from behind and accidentally stuck his wand up the troll's nose –

"Ew!" I squealed, winkling my nose in disgust. "How could he do that…oh gross!"

"Exactly what I thought," Mum grinned. "Yet it was very brave of him…"

The troll obviously now felt a wand going up a wand going up his nose and twisted around with his club with Harry clinging on for dear life. Hermione shook in terror and sank down to the floor, having no idea of what to do as she was so scared. Ron though pulled out his wand and for a second didn't know what he was going to do. He then said the first spell he thought of:

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

The club flew out of the troll's hand and smacked him on the top of the head, causing him to drop Harry and crash onto the floor face first. The three of them looked at the scene for a few seconds, processing what had just happened.

Hermione then finally spoke. "Is it dead?"

"I don't think so," Harry answered. "I think it's just been knocked out." He reached down and pulled out his wand from the troll's nose, wiping it on the troll's trousers.

The door opened again and Professors McGonagall, Snape and Quirrell entered the room. McGonagall started to scowl at Harry and Ron for not being in their dormitories when Hermione got to her feet at last and spoke up, saying they were looking for her. She said that she was looking for the troll herself and thought she would deal with it on her own as she had read about them. McGonagall brought her story and took five points off Gryffindor and sent her back to Gryffindor tower.

As Hermione walked back to her common room, she wondered why Harry and Ron had come to her rescue. She thought they hated her and wouldn't care if she got killed by the troll. Well, Ron wouldn't care…Harry, though, might have felt slightly guilty that they were mean to her and wanted to warn her about the troll. But then Ron practically saved her, he used the spell he couldn't even perfect in class that very same day. Yet, she was very thankful they had both come to her rescue.

And from that day, they became 'The Golden Trio'.

Mum finished her story and placed the covers up to my shoulders. "I love that story," I said as she smoothed out my quilt. "It's scary."

"It sometimes still scares me," Mum admitted, waving her wand. "Goodnight, Abigail, and happy birthday."

"Night, Mum."

She closed the door behind her and I laid on my left side, thinking. What would have happened if that was my father saving Hermione with Harry and Ron? Or him saving her from anything that came to harm her? Would she have liked him? Would they have been together? Would I have even been here?

The last question hit me with a painful hit in the gut. Maybe I wouldn't have been here if she had gotten together with him earlier. Or if that fateful meeting with him had never happened. I wasn't exactly sure if it was a meeting, but it must have been. It was a one night stand, at least I assumed it was because Mum never wants to talk about him and he's not even around.

One thing though plagued my mind. If she hated him so much why did she keep me? She could have easily gotten rid of her unborn child once she learned she was pregnant and didn't have to be reminded of him and their mistake.

I felt tears slide down my face as I thought this. No, I can't think like this. Mum never thought it was right to kill a child who had never experienced life yet, that's why I was here. Oh and apparently she had grown attached to me.

I wiped my tears away and closed my eyes, dreaming of what life would have been like with my father.

Author's note: Story that Hermione told Abigail came from the first book with the troll. I hope you all liked this. Please leave a review!