Mania & Psychosis
Harry wondered where the voices went.
Did they retreat deep inside his head, watching for an opportunity to leap out again?
Some days, he would be reading in his room and they would start up again. Screaming, always screaming. The others, they said he was stressed, that he hadproblems. Harry was fine, really.
Ron came to visit once. He screamed at Harry, words filled with violence and longing. They poured from his mouth like water. Harry didn't like that, so he told Ron to stop it. When he didn't, Harry made him stop.
They hated that. They placed him a prison, a cell made of the lightest fabric. Why they put him in a cell with walls made of paper boggled Harry, but it was odd, when Harry tried to breakthrough, the prison wasn't white any more. While personally, Harry much preferred red to white, it seemed that they preferred the latter colour as they didn't like Harry's redecorating one bit. They came, running into the room, mouths flapping in an excellent impression of uncle Vernon.
They placed him in a cocoon next, a silky vest that encompassed his whole body. Harry was alright with it at first. But then It came, with its eyes; the eyes of a demon, of a fiend clothed in human flesh. Eyes with the magnitude of a thousand stars. Harry screamed and screamed when it came, and his voices screamed too. The stars faded, in their place was fury. His head split open with agony.
It took his words.
Harry couldn't bear to let those eyes look into his windows again, so he removed the cocoon, then removed his windows.
Harry was fine, really. The voices were quieter now, and the eyes were gone. What else do you need?