WARNING: This character is linked with references to alcohol abuse, domestic conflict and anxiety/depression. Please take care if these are topics which may upset you.

ICN: I do see Abby as being somebody who finds it hard to feel good about herself, who feels stressed and overwhelmed most of the time and struggles to keep her chin up despite constantly trying. Depression and anxiety are so much more common than they're made out to be. They're not weird, they're all too normal and it takes a special kind of bravery to keep fighting that internal battle, especially when there might be external troubles too. As we say in the SPN fandom: Always Keep Fighting :)

HAIR: brown.

EYES: hazel.

WAND: willow, unicorn hair, ten inches.

Abigail Dursley reached yet again into the wand pocket inside her robe, clutching the precious stick of willow wood inside. She gulped as she stared ahead at the dusty old hat perched on the stool. It seemed to be staring at her, into her, judging her, finding her lacking. She was always lacking.

Abby shook her head, frowning. She mustn't think like that. Her school counsellor Jo had given her clear instructions for when she began thinking about how useless and stupid she was; she must find something to hold onto and focus on that. Abby knew that Jo had meant to find an idea to hold onto, a positive thought, but now that she had her wand Abby liked to hold onto that. It always felt warm to her touch and it comforted her.

She'd been so shocked when the letter had arrived. She knew about magic already. Mum was supposed to have magic, but she'd been born without it, and that was why Abby didn't have any grandparents on that side of the family. Abby knew that her Mum was really sad about not having magic, and so she'd thought that Mum would be happy about the letter. She'd thought it might be Dad who was upset; his parents, Abby's Grandma and Grandad, didn't like magic very much.

But it was all mixed up. Dad had been excited and kept telling her how lucky she was, whilst Mum had barely said anything to for the whole day after the letter had arrived. Abby had heard her parents arguing that night, curled up against her door with her old toy pig that her Uncle Harry had bought for her as a baby. Mum had gotten drunk and started screaming and crying at Dad. She hadn't done that for ages. Late that night, after Mum had stopped shouting and fallen asleep, Abby heard the worst sound of all; Dad was crying in the bathroom.

Abby wished she'd never gotten the letter.

Things had gotten better after that and Mum had tried to act happy for Abby. They'd gone to Diagon Alley, which they hardly ever did any more, and Mum had bought Abby a pretty set of pink dress robes. But Abby just wanted to go home. Getting her wand was the only part of that day which she'd enjoyed.

The person behind her muttered for her to move, startling her. Abby shuffled forward, thinking about the 'cousins' she'd been invited to sit with on the train: Molly and Victoire. Abby had liked Victoire a lot. She was a few years older but pretty and extremely friendly and kind. She'd referred to Abby as her cousin, even though they weren't related by blood and they'd never met before. She'd been nicer than Molly. Molly was starting her first year at Hogwarts too, yet she didn't seem even slightly nervous. When Abby had confessed how anxious she felt, Molly had looked at her like she was mad. Still, maybe they could be friends. Abby needed a friend. And if Molly wouldn't be her friend, she still had Victoire.

She located Victoire at the black and yellow table, the house with the badger symbol. She was sat next to the cute boy with the changing hair who'd stopped by their compartment on the train. Teddy, his name was. He'd sauntered in, his hair in golden waves, and ruffled Molly's neat bob cut as he'd sat down. She'd looked so outraged that even Abby had giggled out loud. Teddy had looked at her and smiled, sticking out his hand.

"It's Abigail, right? I'm Teddy Lupin, your Uncle Harry's godson."

Abby had blushed and slowly, hesitantly, reached out to shake his hand.

"Uncle Harry is my godfather too", she'd whispered, not quite meeting his eye. Teddy had given her hand a squeeze and let go.

"No kidding! He didn't tell me that! Welcome to the club, Abigail."

Abby had smiled, feeling a little more confident. "You can call me Abby if you want. Are you Victoire's boyfriend?"

She had known immediately that she'd said the wrong thing. Teddy looked thunderstruck and Vic had gone bright pink. There had been a moment of deep silence before Molly piped up:

"Have you read that silly article too? It's not true. Rita Skeeter is a liar. My Daddy says that she should be sacked for making up things about children. As if Vic and Teddy would be kissing at the World Cup! Or anywhere!"

Teddy had leapt up suddenly, his hair tinged the same pink as Victoire's cheeks.

"Yeah, it's pretty lame that Skeeter couldn't even find a real story to cover. Anyway... See you guys at the feast! See you, Vic."

He'd swept out of the compartment without looking at anyone, and Abby had hardly said a word since. Trust her to make things awkward. She hadn't read any article, she'd only seen the way Vic smiled at Teddy when he walked in.

Abby gripped her wand tighter as the boy in front was called up. She barely had time to draw in a deep breath before the Hat yelled one of the house names and the boy skittered off to the red and gold table. Abby hadn't even thought about which house she'd be in. She swallowed, feeling dizzy and nauseous. Her name was called and she stumbled forward, helpless. She was barely aware of sitting on the seat, and her head was swimming too much for her to listen to the strange voice that echoed in her mind. She closed her eyes against the tears, lips pressed together, hunched forward, and only opened them again when the voice cried out loud a single word:

"GRYFFINDOR!"