This is my first published works so please feel free to respond in a constructive way, I have always enjoyed the darker Harry Potter fics, so I have decided to try out my own. Please enjoy.

I own nothing but the combination of words that I've typed out before you.

Chapter 1…Vivid Imaginings

Imagination is a powerful tool, for a child there is no limit to what they can imagine. For a wizarding child the imagination is even more powerful because it essentially is visualization. With magic, visualization and desire becomes reality.

Of course, there are limitations to what a single magic user can fabricate, but I digress.

Our story begins with this simple, overlooked tool. We will explore what power emerges from a lonely and isolated child who turns inward to escape her horrific reality.

The walls pressed close and she couldn't breathe. Despite how many hours and days she had spent cowered in her cupboard, Rosalie could never relax. It was too small inside, she couldn't even stand and the dark space made her afraid.

Clenching her eyes shut the seven-year-old child tried to remember something happy, bright and open. But she had no happy memories to recall, no bright experiences, and no family to draw comfort from. She shivered, pulling the ratty baby blanket over her shoulders, gooseflesh breaking out along her arms.

Trying to distract herself she recalled the first book she had gotten to read, as she only started reading aloud in class. It was a picture book about a beautiful princess living in a grand castle, there were horses and trees and even a small lake! The princess loved to explore her father's castle and she would hide from her nurse-maid by ducking into the kitchens, disguising herself as a servant. Rosalie smiled to herself and relaxed into the images, finding comfort in the story coming alive behind her eyes.

But soon she couldn't remember any more of the story and the fear trickled back in. With renewed vigor she clutched tighter at her blanket and decided to make her own castle, with secret rooms and tall towers, deep dungeon kitchens and huge ballrooms, with grand fireplaces. She imagined a room for herself, with thousands of pillows; great big ones as large as a bed, long furry ones that she could stretch out on, small pillows she could throw and stack. She preoccupied herself for a long while, detailing everything she could think of.

Sleep claimed her soon after.

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The next day as she was doing chores for Aunt Petunia, Rosalie continued to build her castle. As she scrubbed the dirty floors she pictured long halls with white stone floors, cleaning the windows she dreamed of vivid green drapes to match her eyes. Helping her Aunt cook she drooled with the thought of a banquet table filled to the brim with sweet pastries, and thick stews, plentiful fruit baskets and her favorite, Bacon.

Chores went by much quicker now that she had happy thoughts to distract her, even Dudders couldn't ruin her mood. Not when she was building her horses' stables and thinking about all the animals she could have in her castle. Animals were much nicer than people.

By the end of the day she had built most of the castle including her mommy and daddy's room. It had a giant bed made of dark wood, with shelves filled with pictures of their family adventures, her mommy's dressing room would be filled with the most beautiful dresses and crowns and necklaces that Rosalie giggled in delight.

A harsh slap shocked her out of her day-dreams.

"Shut up you vapid freak," her Aunt sneered at her, "You've been lollygagging all day with a stupid grin on your face, I can't stand to look at you!" Tears gathered in Rosalie's eyes, her horrible family couldn't even let her be happy in her own head.

She was grabbed roughly and thrown against the back wall of her cupboard, the force causing many of the spiders to fall. Darkness once again enveloped her and she couldn't repress her tears. Rosalie curled into a ball under her threadbare blanket and imagined that she was running in the grass towards a lake, her castle standing proudly in the background. It was all she had, these impossible dreams.

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It wasn't long before Rosalie realized that objects were beginning to show up in her castle, things that she hadn't decided she wanted there, so while everyone else in class was reciting things with the teacher she sunk deeper into her seat and lifted the book to hide her face from view.

Closing her eyes she felt herself fall into the dark, slowly the grand entrance hall shimmered into existence in her mind becoming sharper every second. The marble under her feet reflected back her own image and she grinned. The details she added were staying longer and required less focus to up keep.

As she looked up she noticed a scary looking suit of armor that looked like it might fit Uncle Vernon. That was definitely a new addition, one that she didn't put there. Rosalie scrunched her brow in confusion, it didn't make sense for things to just pop up in her imaginary kingdom without her say-so. She stepped up to the garish dark metal and made to move the arms on the armor into a different position, thinking that she could at least make it look less intimidating.

The moment her imaginary hand touched the armor she was thrown into a dark and terrible memory, the night Uncle Vernon blew up because she was taking too long in the tub. She gasped and gurgled and thrashed in her seat. Distantly she heard screaming, which confused her because how could she hear screaming when she was being held under the water, drowning in the tub? With no air in her lungs darkness enveloped her vision and consciousness faded.

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The punishment that night was uninventive but awful all the same, another weekend without food.

Rosalie really didn't understand what happened at school, but the teacher tried to explain to Aunt Petunia that she had a seizure and started coughing up water. Rosalie didn't know what a seizure was but it made Aunt Petunia mad.

She huddled closer to the wall of her cupboard and closed her eyes, she decided that in her kingdom, she could float on the water and would never have to go under, she also stopped touching objects that she didn't remember creating. Bad things happened when she did.

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It has been three days and four nights since she left her cupboard. The bucket in the corner smelt horrid and she stopped needing to pee. Two days since she had some water, Rosalie felt sick. She couldn't even sit up straight without feeling dizzy and like she wanted to throw up, but her stomach was empty.

Her hands shook as she pulled back her hair and tried to look outside the cupboard through the crack under the door, the TV was on but she couldn't tell if anyone was in the living room. Sitting up, she almost fainted and her vision went black, her head spun and she felt fuzzy but her vision came back quickly. She was so thirsty that it was even hard to swallow. Rosalie took a deep breath and relaxed against the door, nothing left to do now except wait till her punishment was over. She closed her eyes and allowed the vision of her castle to materialize.

In the weeks since she started building the castle in her mind, it had fleshed out a lot. Sometimes rooms disappeared when she couldn't remember or focus hard enough but she kept at it, even using her drawing period at school to make simple maps of the place. But by now she knew the hallways and rooms and entrances and alcoves like it was her own home, she spent the most of her time in her parent's bedroom looking at pictures that her mind created, of times she never got to experience. But today everything had an edge to it, more solid than Rosalie remembered. Spending little time deciding what she wanted to do, she scurried to the kitchen, if she couldn't eat food she could at least imagine eating her fill. So she took a left at the entry hall and found the stairs leading to the kitchen, but as she approached she felt a shudder pass through the ground under her. It was all in her head so she was safe, she told herself. But curious as she was her body broke out in gooseflesh, her hair standing on end.

Cautiously she walked deeper into the dungeons, feeling strangely lost in the castle of her own making. Another shudder passed through the stones and she wondered how she could go deeper, as she thought this grinding stones made her turn around to see a small stairwell going down into the earth. With a thought she had a flashlight in her hands and she tiptoed down the steps. They curved strangely, like stairs would in a tower, and the deeper she went the more she could feel something strange, almost like the walls around her were vibrating with an unseen energy.

It didn't smell damp and dark like a basement would, it smelt like cinnamon and sharp metallic tang of iron. The deeper she went the brighter the stairwell became until she stood in front of a well lit door.

The door itself was very plain, except for the small snakes carved into the metal hinges. Rosalie swallowed hard, noticing that it was a lot easier than when she was sitting in her cupboard, she reached out a hand and tried to turn the doorknob. It wouldn't budge. Huffing in frustration she imagined a key and sure enough one popped into existence, but it was obviously the wrong match to fit the keyhole in front of her.

Wondering how it was possible that there was a door inside her head that she couldn't open, Rosalie took some time to figure out what she could do. Another tremble passed and she had a moment of realization. In Dudder's bedroom he once slammed the door so hard that it broke off the hinges! Even when he locked the door you could still pull the bottom corner out far enough that she could slip through. So she imagined she had a tool that Uncle Vernon once used that she thought was called a prying bar. Wedging it between the wood of the door and the metal hinges she yanked them free of the door. When both hinges were removed she pushed with all her might and the door groaned open.