The Forsaken Child
Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.

Eleven Years from Prologue

(A/N: Just a little bit of information. Hermione is a year older than Harry in this story.)

The evening sun shined brightly through the open window. The sound of children's laughter filtered easily through the screen. The white walled room was filled with ten beds all covered with different sheets. Some were pink; others were yellow and orange. Only one was a deep shade of red. It was on this bed that a young girl sat. While the other children played outside, she stayed inside reading the book that the orphanage head, Mrs. Sterling, bought for her. She shifted higher up on her red pillow and crossed her legs. Her jeans were littered with holes. Her T-shirt was two sizes too big. But this was how she was comfortable. This way she could be invisible. The other children wouldn't pick on her for her differences if they didn't know she was there.

Sterling Orphanage was considered to be one of the best orphanages in England. In many ways it was. The rooms were separated by gender. The boys had third floor while girls had the second floor. There was enough bathroom so that fighting was minimum. Each orphan got three meals a day and snacks in between. The head of the orphanage was a sweet, attentive woman. Her husband taught all of the orphans in their little school.

The only downside were the other orphans. They picked on her for her wild, frizzy black hair and large hazel eyes. It didn't help that she was shorter than them. Mrs. Sterling tried, but her attempts were taken as favoritism. The only time Hermione was safe was during these recesses where she could disappear to her room and read.

A gentle knock tore her attention from the pages of her newest historical book. Her large hazel eyes focused on Mrs. Sterling. She felt comforted by the woman's black curly hair. For a few seconds, she could pretend that Mrs. Sterling was her mother, but she knew that it wasn't true. Mrs. Sterling was sterile. Because she couldn't have children, she opened this orphanage and treated each child like they were her own.

"Do you want to help me come cook?" She asked. Lunch was always after recess. Hermione smiled happily at the woman. She marked her place and closed her book. She slid out the safe that Mrs. Sterling bought her after many of her books came up missing. She slid her book into its place, looked the safe, and slid it back underneath her bed.

Mrs. Sterling's blue eyes watched the young girl sadly. Out of all her little cubs, Hermione had it worst. Every child here knew of their parents. All but Hermione. There was a hole there that Mrs. Sterling knew she couldn't fill. To top it all off, Hermione was the worst bullied in her orphanage. Each time she tried to help her, the other orphans only bullied her harder and called her a snitch. She was sorely tempted to move her to another room, but Hermione always protested. She loved her little niche. She smiled at her little wallflower when she jumped from the bed and walked toward her. Mrs. Sterling placed a hand on Hermione's curly black hair and ran her fingers through it as they walked to the kitchen.

"What are we making today, Mrs. Sterling?" Hermione asked. Her voice was usually so quiet that it always took her by surprise when Hermione spoke louder. It broke the woman's heart that she hid herself so completely.

"Just some sandwiches and cookies," Mrs. Sterling told her. She smiled down at her little helper as she opened the kitchen door. Hermione smiled back at her from where she now stood in front of the stove. "I think you'll have a visitor today, Hermione." She approached the topic cautiously. She had received the letter a few days ago in warning. The response was a little heartbreaking. Hermione smiled cautiously.

"Really?" Her tone was just as cautious as her smile. Mrs. Sterling smiled sadly.

"Yes. His name is Albus Dumbledore. He is the Headmaster of an elite boarding school," Mrs. Sterling informed her as she got the lunchmeats out of the refrigerator. She slid the meat on the counter while Hermione removed the bread from the breadbox. The two soon fell into a familiar routine. Hermione would make the sandwiches while Mrs. Sterling made the cookies.

"Really? What does he want me for?" She asked as she laid the folded four pieces of ham onto the bread.

"I'm assuming he wants you to join him at his school," Mrs. Sterling said as she dolloped the cookie dough onto the cookie sheet.

"What…do you think?" Hermione's voice fell low as she asked for her mother figure's opinion. She moved on to the third sandwich as she waited for Mrs. Sterling's answer. Mrs. Sterling didn't look away from her work as she replied.

"I think you should go for it if he asks. It would be a better environment for you. You would be with other children like you…" She said as she filled the cookie sheet with dough. She then stepped back and slid the sheet onto the top rack of the oven. She moved onto another cookie sheet. There were twenty children in her orphanage. So there needed to be twenty sandwiches and twenty cookies. Silence fell over them as they both got lost in their own thoughts.

Mrs. Sterling knew that Hermione was a unique child. She frequently found the young girl unknowingly levitating lights closer to her as she read. Often she would catch Hermione standing in front of a mirror with a look of complete concentration on her face. Then, the little girl's hair color would change. The length would change or become straight. The first time it had happened she had dropped the plate she had been bringing to the young girl. Hermione had spun around. Her hair instantly transformed back to normal.

"You really think I would fit in?" Hermione asked softly as she moved onto the sixth sandwich. Mrs. Sterling washed her hands and joined the young girl. Mrs. Sterling smiled softly at the young girl as she aided Hermione in making the sandwiches.

"So well you won't even miss us," Mrs. Sterling said as she placed the finished sandwich onto the platter with the other seven.

"I highly doubt that," Hermione muttered quietly as they worked. Together the two finished the twenty sandwiches before the stove dinged. Hermione pulled herself up on the counter as she watched her mother figure scoop the cookies off of the cookie sheet and put them into the bowl.

"Do you want first pick?" Mrs. Sterling asked as she glanced away from her work. Hermione's hazel eyes widened instantly. She shook her head.

"No, I'll wait," Hermione told her. The other children bullied her harder when she got first pick. No matter how sneaky about it seemed to be, the other children always knew. Mrs. Sterling smiled sadly and nodded. "Did Mr. Dumbledore say when he would be here?" Hermione asked to change the topic.

"He said he would be here around one," Mrs. Sterling said. Hermione glanced at the clock. One was only forty five minutes away. She bit into her bottom lip and slid off of the counter. "Will you go tell the other children that lunch is ready?" Hermione didn't answer. She simply left to go let the other children know. She stood at the sliding glass door and looked out at the rest of the children. A few of the older students were tossing a football around while the younger students were playing at the playground. She glanced over at Mr. Sterling who was supervising. He smiled encouragingly at her.

"Lunch is ready," Hermione informed Mr. Sterling. The gentle man took advantage of the news and bellowed it out to the other children. The reaction was instant. They all started to race toward the sliding glass door, toward Hermione. She quickly darted behind Mr. Sterling. He chuckled and turned around once all of the children were past him.

"You've gotten quicker," he complimented her. Hermione smiled up at him as she pushed her curly hair out of her eyes. They didn't even get the chance to knock her in the shoulder this time.

Once everyone else had gotten their food, Hermione walked up to the counter to get her food. Mrs. Sterling smiled gently at her and took the plate from underneath the counter. If she didn't put away Hermione's share then the other children would take it. She handed the plate to Hermione.

"Thank you," Hermione whispered as she took the plate. Without looking at the other children, she turned and walked outside to eat. She didn't bother looking at any of the children. No one would want her to eat with them anyway. She sat down outside on the bolted down picnic table. It was covered with colorful writing on every available surface. She saw the name Johnny scribbled on it with a blue marker. Her eyes roamed the table as she ate her sandwich. She saw Janette scribbled in orange, Tiffany scribbled in pink, and a Tom…scribbled in black? She looked closer at the name. It wasn't scribbled she realized. It was…burnt in the wood. Her brows furrowed. How had Tom managed that? It looked like many of the children had tried to scribble his name out, but because of it being burnt in all they managed to do was color it. He left a permanent mark on this table. One that the other children couldn't take away. It was great if you wanted to be remembered. Hermione reached for the burnt name. She would feel better forgotten. She ran her finger over the burn. Her eyes widened and she jerked her hand back. It was still hot!

"Magical scars still retain memory of the infliction," an aged voice came from over her shoulder. Hermione placed her hands on the side of the picnic table; she turned her body to face the speaker. He was an aged man with a long grey bread and a crooked nose. His spectacles fell down low on his crooked nose. His blue eyes rested on the burnt name. This man must be Albus Dumbledore. Her visitor for the day. She wondered if he would try to take her with him. He looked entirely too old to be a parental figure. She squashed those thoughts quickly. No one wanted her. She was too strange.

"Magic?" Hermione questioned just to bring her mind back to the topic at hand. Late at night, she dreamt that magic existed if only to take her away from the bullies at the orphanage.

"Yes," the man said as he sat down on the picnic table beside her. "Miss. Granger. Magic." He whispered. He glanced toward the open door then he raised his hand and made something wondrous happen. Her plate went from being an ordinary ceramic white plate to a butterfly. Her eyes widened.

"You didn't have to prove it…" Hermione muttered. "I…can…do things too. Obviously…nothing like that." She motioned with her head toward the purple and pink butterfly that was leaving them. "But…I can do this!" She said. She closed her eyes and concentrated. Albus' eyes widened as he watched the young girl cast a glamor over herself. Her wild, curly, black hair became a gently curled light brown. She opened her eyes. The glamour held.

"Do you have any idea what that's called?" He asked as he pulled a curl gently. She tilted her head and shook it. "You cast a glamour over yourself, my dear," he told her. As she cast the glamour over herself, Albus had been able to practically taste the power coming off of her. It brushed over his skin and caused his own magic to rise to the surface of his skin. He had no doubt that if she wished, she could change her entire form. He had no doubt that she would become an extremely powerful witch. "And that is the very reason I am here." Her hazel eyes became worried, but she didn't drop the glamour. She liked her hair this way.

"Am I in-"

"Trouble?" Dumbledore finished. His blue eyes were twinkling. "No. I'm afraid what I have to ask you will be very difficult however." Hermione tilted her head. "I am the head of a school called Hogwarts. It is a school designed specifically for magical students." Even though he paused to allow her to ask questions, Hermione stared at him quietly. "I want you to become one of those students, Miss. Granger. You will have to leave friends behind-"

"I don't have any friends," She cut him off. A small blush tinted her cheeks. "I'm too strange."

"Well, you will fit in perfectly at Hogwarts. It is full of strange characters." Hermione smiled at him.

"I'll be there."

"Great. I'll have Professor McGonagall take you school shopping and be your escort to the train station," Dumbledore told her as he pulled a letter out from the inside of his pocket. He extended to her. Hermione took it and smiled happily at him.

"Thank you…" Hermione whispered to him as he moved to stand. "For…giving me this opportunity…Mr. Dumbledore." He smiled softly at her. His blue eyes dimmed slightly.

"It is an honor to have you, Miss. Granger…" Dumbledore told her softly. Hermione blushed as he walked away. She tugged the letter into her jeans for safe keeping. If the other children found it they would take it from her. They would either read it aloud or tear it up. It's what they usually did with her things. She stood from the picnic table. The butterfly left the picnic table with her and fluttered in front of her nose before it darted up to the trees.

'I hope Mrs. Sterling won't be too put out by a missing plate…' She thought as she watched the pink and purple butterfly fly away. Before she stepped through the doors of the orphanage, she let the glamour drop.

The Forsaken Child

"You wanted to see me, Dumbledore?" McGonagall asked as she walked into her good friend's office. He glanced away from the book that he had been writing in and set his quill aside.

"Yes. I want you to escort Miss. Granger throughout her shopping tomorrow," Dumbledore told her. McGonagall didn't question why. Most able teachers, Order members, and Aurors were out on the streets during this time of year as protection. The Death Eaters seemed to be becoming more frantic. Voldemort, more careless. Dumbledore had tried to hide the Prophecy to the best of his ability, but a part of it had still been leaked. Voldemort knew that the one with the power to defeat him approached, but he didn't not know to whom this force had been born. No one did, not even Dumbledore himself.

"What does Miss. Granger look like?"

"Ah, therein lies the problem, Minerva. I cannot tell you for certain what she will look like."

"Whatever do you mean, Dumbledore? Surely she is not a Metamorphmagus," McGonagall stated. It was dangerous for a young Metamorphmagus to be exposed to humans. They could easily give away the secret that is the Wizarding World. Her mind already struggled to calculate just how many minds they would have to be erasing if Hermione Granger was indeed a Metamorphmagus.

"No, she is just a child exceptionally skilled at glamour charms," Dumbledore soothed his friend's worries.

"But who would have taught her-" McGonagall's question trailed off as Dumbledore held up a hand.

"I believe it is a case of loosely accidental magic. She did not know what it was called. I believe she simply wished to look a different way, concentrated on that look, and her magic arose to make that wish a reality…" Dumbledore said as he lowered his hand back to the tabletop.

"Oh dear…" McGonagall muttered. "Glamour charms are dangerous in times of war…even done unconsciously…"

"Yes, you will have to make her see the dangers of such a charm…She seems to be a reasonable child, Minerva. I imagine you won't have much difficulty."

The Forsaken Child

Hermione bit into her bottom lip as she waited for Professor McGonagall a few blocks away from the orphanage as the letter had asked. She wrapped her finger around one brown curl. The moment she walked out of the doors to the orphanage, she had fixed her glamour in place. She looked back down at the opening letter. The list of the things she needed greeted her. She sighed. How would she afford all of this? She didn't have any money of her own and the Sterlings couldn't afford any of this. They put all of their money into the orphanage. Her heart was heavy because of the knowledge. Hogwarts was her one shot to escape the children at the orphanage at least for a little while. It would devastate her not to be able to go. She swallowed. Maybe McGonagall would have a solution. She grasped onto that idea with both hands. She had to believe it.

It was then that a strict looking woman appeared in front of her with a sharp pop. Hermione shrieked and fell backward in surprise. The woman blinked and looked down at her. Brown eyes started down at her.

"Mrs. McGonagall?" Hermione questioned. Her tone was still elevated due to the fright coursing through her system. The strict looking woman smiled slightly and nodded.

"I am assuming that you are Miss. Granger," McGonagall said. Hermione nodded and scrambled up from the ground.

"Where did you come from? How did you-" Hermione started to question. A stern look from McGonagall had her trailing off.

"Take my arm, Miss. Granger," McGonagall requested. Hermione warily took the woman's arm. There was a sharp crack, then a strange shrinking sensation. Hermione closed her eyes as the confusion threatened to make her sick. Suddenly, they were standing outside a shopping district filled with strangely dressed people and chatter. Hermione leaned against one of the light poles and tried to catch her breathe. "That was apparition, Miss. Granger. It was how I arrived at your orphanage from Hogwarts." The woman explained. Hermione nodded weakly.

"I don't want to ever do that again…" She muttered. McGonagall shocked her by laughing.

"I'm afraid you will have too. Every sixth year is required to take an Apparition exam…"

"Goodie…" Hermione breathed sarcastically. It was as she looked away from her future teacher that she saw the town. Thousands of children and adults pulsed through the streets. A few children were gathered around a store in the corner. McGonagall gave her charge a gentle smile.

"This is Diagon Alley, Miss. Granger."