AN: This was sitting in a folder for years. I might add to it if I get inspiration.
The voices are the first thing I can remember. Even before I could talk properly, they were there, yelling, screaming, plotting. Eventually the older ones quieted and left, making room for new ones. They screamed funny things, like 'filthy mudbloods!' or 'Grindelwald!'. They hurt my head. I told Mom and Dad, and they gave my to the Men In White Coats, or MIWC for short. They told me they wanted to help me. They didn't. They poked me with needles and made me talk to creepy people with notepads. Eventually they put me in a big white room. They left me there, only coming in to give me food or sometimes teach me math or other subjects. I loved the latter time the most, because the textbooks and black inked sheets of paper colored the room considerably. Also, there was nothing else to do, so I learned and through myself into anything I was given. Languages, history, etiquette, math, science, foods... Anything that caught my fancy, and some things that didn't, but were important. I went to texts beyond my age level often. The MIWC's didn't mind. After all, if I could understand it, what did they care about what I read? After a long time, (I was pathetic at time, no matter how smart I was) they deemed me able to leave. The voices had faded. I was taken to my parents. I distanced myself from them. Why would I forgive the people who put me in the mental institution in the first place? I was put in a middle school. I was 12. About two years had passed since I had been put in the institution. I had to take a placement test for math and English. The math was simple, even though the man up front had said that some problems were up to eighth grade levels. The essay for the English placement was easy enough, but I had to ask for more paper. The man had looked bemused when I asked for more paper to do the essay on as well as when I turned my math test in first. I went home and worked on the extra work that I had saved up from the institution. I also messed around with the IPhone my parents had given me in congratulations for being let out of the mental institution. I downloaded some things that sounded interesting, like a game that involved memorizing all the periodic table. Later, the principle of the school scheduled a conference with my parents. He told them that I would be put in ninth grade math, and I would be tested on the other subjects as well. A week later, it was the first day of school. It went pretty well. I met the first few children my age I had seen in two years. I recognized some people that I had known before the MIWCs, and stayed away from them. I didn't want any questions about my absence. I struck up a few tentative friendships, but that was it. The rest of the week went something like that. I only lasted three more weeks before IT happened again. I was in Mrs. Adea's class when I heard the first scream. 'No!' I thought. 'No, no, no, NO!' In seconds I was screaming out loud as well. Mrs. Adea came towards me, reprimanding me for interrupting her class. I knew I hated her for a reason. I started hyperventilating, but managed to hit emergency call and the one number I needed. The institution.
I was back in my safe, white room, away from evil teachers and stupid people. That was when I realized that the new voice was much calmer than the others, and held more grief. It was interesting, to say the least, when I found myself able to talk to the voice in my head. "My name is Sirius Black," the newly dubbed Sirius told me. He talked to me about many things, but mostly just about his friends. He told me of red-haired witches and friends who could turn into animals. But most of all, he talked of his godson. He was lonely without anyone else except for me, but exchanging stories made both of us less antsy. It wasn't much, but we both felt better in the end.