I made this to get over my writer's block and to find more about different countries. Most likely be part of a series.

Disclaimer: I don't own the harry potter franchise. Inspired by various Harry travels fanfiction.

Fem!harry is a very childlike goddess. She also is very disconnected from heavy mature emotions, so there is a high chance of no pairings for her. If there is it will be much later.

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General Pov

Warm late spring air drifted through the library's doors that was saturated with the scent of flowers as a woman with a long neck walked through holding a child's arm in her hand. Her lips were puckered like she sucked on a lemon, glancing around and upon seeing no one looking glared behind her shoulder at a figure.

"Stay out of the way girl." Petunia hissed out. The lady walked her son into the children's section. A waif of a child left standing at the entrance.

'I wouldn't want to be there when the pig starts getting bored anyway' The blood-coloured haired girl thought. Looking around she saw a group of people go into a room. Slipping in after them to see rows of benches, then a circle of chairs in the front.

'What are they doing?' She thought as she sat on the floor between two benches.

"So everyone, welcome to another book reading. Today we are going to start a new book. So Becky if you would be so kind, to grab two pieces of paper from the can." A man jovially spoke as he shook a sticker coated coffee can.

The rustling of paper reached her ears. "Peter Pan and Howl's moving castle". A lady laughed. "Does this mean we can watch the movies?~"

'Moving castle! There are moving castles!?' The girl thought; heart vibrating somewhere behind her collarbone.

As the girl listened to the stories. Her heart and mind cemented on the simple belief; that they were real. Never being told what fiction stories were or hearing them, helped in that personal truth. Those children could fly and win against adults. Castles could move and doors can lead to more than one place.

Never in the young girl's life, has she ever been more grateful for being dragged somewhere. As the day drifted on and people who read left, the girl found herself in the newspaper archives. She did something she never did before; she asked a question. Now this in itself is not surprising for most people, its how she worded them.

"Madam, what are these drawings on the paper for?" she inquired. Pointing at a glass-covered case.

"Those are prints to show what happened in the past." A young librarian replied slouched over the counter. Flipping through a magazine she twisted her mermaid braid around two fingers.

"So there real, even if it's a drawing".

"Yes, it was their way of showing happened. Since they didn't have cameras". Acknowledged the lady not looking up as she added an afterthought. "They also used cartoons during the world wars".

After thanking her, the girl left and drifted around reading things. She found the video room and movies, lots of movies. She nestled down in a corner pulled the t.v on the trolley to face her. She stayed out of the way and then for the night. Watching movies; learning her truths.

As the next day progressed Petunia came back in the afternoon, with Dudley. For her aunt did not notice or care she stayed the night. This continued for six days. Listening to and reading in the day with watching shows at night. The girl had accidentally cast an invisibility and confusion spell on her surroundings. Desperately not wanting to be found. Eating fruit along with muffins in offices. Those were the best days in a long time.

Her Aunt finally noticing, via the chores not being done and her having to cook the meals, took her home. She needed someone to clean and keep aunt Marge's dog busy. Who was arriving in eight days. There was just enough will in her to notice the girl as she drank from a fountain. This was just the beginning of what she would later call her fledgeling period.

Marge was a vicious woman, who drank heavily and had a fat dog that just as violent as her called Ripper. She did not want to be here when they came over. The next day was filled with burning fumes of cleaning solution and bleeding raw hands. "Girl, that guestroom best be spotless". Aunt Petunia yelled from downstairs. "Get down here and start dinner I don't want my DiddieDunkins starving."

"Yes, Ma'am". She replied as she put the now empty cleaning bucket under the sink. "I'll start right awa-". Something slammed into her back, sending the girl off the top stairs. As the bottom of the stair rushed up to meet her tumbling body. All she heard was a wet thwack and then inky darkness.

'Where am I? When did I open my eyes?" She bobbed aimlessly in a shifting sea of colours. 'What is that?!' The size of the circumference of my arms was a sphere of tendrils. Its centre was partially covered in; along with its tendrils, a tar-like substance. Seeing it there caused instinctual fear to turn on. "I don't like it! It's bad, get it away!". She screamed 'Get off! Go Away, Go away, LEAVE IT ALONE!'.

The sphere screeched with light in a reaction to my voice. The sea around me groaned with energy, like a titan being roused from slumber, as the colours tumbled; scraping against the loosening globs of sludge. It started to pull at it, ripping it off; along with tendrils from the sphere, stretching others into thin crepeline ribbons.

Suddenly it felt like a bubble swelled and popped in her body. Leaving behind a cold empty sensation from the sphere. Great chunks were missing from the sphere. Colours lunged forward into holes; mimicking water to a storm drain, engulfing her body in the process.

Her eyes started to seal shut. 'It's so warm like the sun after staying out in a winter storm.' She couldn't tell where her limbs ended and where the colours began. 'This is nice, maybe I can find some other people to share this with'.

Outside the magic realm

Seven days ago

Petunia stared at the bleeding and unusually still figure of her niece. Thoughts swirling around before picking her up by the arm and dragging her to shove under the closet stairs. "Sweetie, get ready we're going to eat out in half an hour". She hummed out to the frozen form of her son on the stairs.

"...Sure" Dudley whispered as he stared at the stairs. 'Why did I do that? Oh god...oh god... I didn't mean to do it'. He thought as he rushed towards the bathroom stomach churning.

Three days ago

Dudley opened the closet. He turned his cousin over and cleared more of the black gunk off her face. "Please wake up soon. Mom and Dad were talking about what they're going to do to you. Heard 'em say if you don't get up in a few days you'd disappear. I have to go, see you tomorrow night." He closed the door guilt searing into his chest.

Last Night

Dudley slipped down the stairs with a wet cloth. 'I brain feels less foggy since I stopped taking the vitamins mom gives me.' He thought as he opened the door to her room.

-Splat-

He stared at the glowing figure of his cousin, hands numb with shock. "Wha-?" he mumbled. He tried to think of what to do. Why was this happening? 'She's a super person that's it, like those people on the Tele.' He closed the door and crept upstairs.

That morning

She opened her eyes. "Where am I?". She slowly sat up halfway. Arms wobbling in protest before buckling.

"Where's the mutt of a girl?" A woman's heavy voice slurred out.

"We left her in her room. So she wouldn't disturb the visit".

"Nonsense Vernon, drag her outside. Let Ripper have some fun, it will get that lazy whelp up".

"I'll do it. Don't bother yourself darling". Steps clipped to the door. "Up, get up." Petunia voice streamed out like a poisonous mist.

Yanked out and up. Her legs trying to find purchase on the hall rug. Finding herself at the bottom of the stoop, she wobbled onto her feet. The clicking of nails had her running. Past neighbours and out of Private drive, she shot towards magnolia crescent alley trying to get to wisteria's park.

The clicking was gaining up. She quite dearly wished she could fly like Peter and the lost children. A calm flashed through her, followed by a feathery sensation. The world tilted and she wasn't there when Ripper chased a constable's daughter. Nor when Marge was taken into custody, far away she went when the Dursleys were asked where she was.

A small dot was floating under the still clouds at dusk.