Thanks to everyone who reviewed! I really do appreciate it greatly.
I didn't put in a disclaimer last time because...well, if you're reading this, you already know what it says, so it's pointless.
If you want to flame me, that's fine; I like constructive criticism. Just don't flame because it contains slash. That's just stupid. I won't stop writing it, and neither will anybody else.
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander
Chapter 1 - Mr. Devici
"You, boy, in!"
Harry called out in pain as he was thrown roughly into the cupboard under the stairs in Number Four, Privet Drive.
Uncle Vernon stood outside, sillhouetted in the light from the pristinely clean hallway.
Harry whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at Uncle Vernon's heart. "Move--out of the way," he growled at his large Uncle.
Uncle Vernon's hand flashed forward, grasping Harry's wrist in a bone-cracking grip, forcing the wand tip towards the ceiling. Vernon squeezed harder, bending Harry's arm up, up, up... There was a sickening _crack_, and a searing pain shot up Harry's arm. He shouted in pain and dropped the wand, pulling his arm into his body, cradling it.
Uncle Vernon grabbed at the wand, immediately holding it through his shirt, as though he was afraid that just by holding it he was exposing himself to the evil 'magic'.
"I'll be seeing you soon, boy," Vernon spat, slamming the door to the cupboard shut and clicking the lock.
Harry sat hunched in the darkness, cradling his aching arm. It was very cramped; Harry felt it was hard to believe that he'd ever slept in that tiny closet.
Prodding his arm gently, Harry came to the conclusion that it was not broken, just sprained or possibly bruised.
What could he do now? He was locked in a tiny, dark cupboard with no wand, no owl, and the prospect of some horrible program at St. Brutus's secure center for incurable criminal boys. He was trapped, enclosed by a cage that he could not escape.
His head swarming with thoughts and worries, he drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
****
"Get up, boy, get up!"
Harry's eyes opened, then closed quickly at the large amount of light that was entering cupboard; it was morning. Every part of Harry's body seemed to be aching; he was stiff from sleeping all night in a sitting position, and his bruised right arm was throbbing dully.
Harry opened his eyes again and squinted into Uncle Vernon's purple face.
"What?" he groaned, trying to stretch, but his arms only hit the sides of the cupboard.
Uncle Vernon smiled evilly yet again. "Did you have a good sleep, boy?"
"No," Harry said quickly.
"Good, it's time to go."
Harry was pulled unceremoniously from the cupboard and thrown just as roughly into the car.
"It's your lucky day," said Vernon, his smile once again in place. "I was just able to sneak you in to St. Brutus's summer program. You should thank me. I think you'll have an excellent time there."
Harry didn't answer, trying to sort out everything that was going on in his mind at the moment. It wasn't working. He couldn't figure out what to do. Normally, he had an escape route, a plan B, but this time, he was lost. He didn't know what was going to happen to him at St. Brutus's, but he knew that it wouldn't be good.
"We're here," said Vernon maliciously, pulling Harry out of the car.
The building in front of which they stood was the bleakest one Harry had ever seen. It was a huge grey box made entirely of stone. If there were any windows in the entire place, Harry couldn't see any of them, and there was only one door, which was some sort of black metal. Around the entire thing was a twenty foot high chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. To Harry, it looked like some sort of prison.
Vernon grabbed Harry by his bicep and pulled him to a gate in the fence, which was flanked by two guards who didn't bother to hide their sub-machine guns.
Vernon approached on of the guards. "Harry Potter," he barked. "He's here for one of the ... summer programs."
"Yes, sir, we'll take him from here. Thank you sir," replied one of the guards curtly and roughly.
The guard grabbed Harry hard at the same place Uncle Vernon had as Vernon walked back to the car and disappeared.
The guard turned to him. "If you attempt to escape, I have the moral and legal obligation to shoot you, fag."
Harry said nothing. Once again, he felt trapped, as he was dragged through the gate and to the metal door. The guard punched in a ten digit code, and the door swung open on its own.
Harry was led through a maze-like series of corridors and stairs. He knew this was purposefully done; he would never be able to find his way back if he were to escape the custody of this guard.
They found their way to a door labled "Homosexuals", underneath which somebody had scratched the word "fags". The guard opened the door and threw Harry inside. "Sit down and shut up," he said, before slamming the door shut.
Harry rubbed his arm in pain and looked around the room. There were six chairs in the center of the room, four of which were occupied by boys about his age. They all looked nervous, and none of them spoke. Harry took one of the seats.
They waited in silence, the tension eating at them.
The door opened, and the guard that had led - or thrown - Harry into the room tossed in another boy, who fell onto the floor and slid four or five feet. He was tall and dark, with close-cropped black hair, and looked to be incredibly strong and built - he was gorgeous, and everybody in the room knew it. The door slammed shut. The newcomer scrambled to his feet and grabbed at the doorknob, attempting to pull it open, but it was locked.
The boy turned to face the other five of them, looking like he was either about to speak or shout, but he just sat down in the last seat, right next to Harry. Harry looked at him, but just before he had a chance to speak, the door banged opened and a man entered.
The new man had a demonic sort of look about him - tall, almost pointed ears, and a goatee that curled upwards, pointing at his chin. The man looked to be about forty, and looked extremely tired.
He walked up to the line of occupied chairs and paced up and down it several times, obviously starting to form words in his head.
"Welcome," he said, "to St. Brutus's Program for Incurable Homosexual Boys." Pause. "My name is Mr. Devici. You may address me as Mr. Devici or 'sir'. Nothing else is acceptable. Over the next eight weeks you will forsake your homosexual ways and become a respectible human being, not the scum you are now. There will be pain, but there always is; no pain, no gain. Are there any questions?"
Harry raised his hand.
"What?!" Mr. Devici shouted, as though he didn't want anybody to actually ask any questions.
"Sir, what's the point of trying to 'cure' us, if were 'incurably homosexual'?"
Mr. Devici stood in front of Harry for a moment, obviously pondering the question, then swung around and hit the dark boy next to Harry with the back of his hand. The boy fell off of the chair, clutching his face. Harry stared in shock.
"Mr..." he checked a sheet on the clipboard he carried, "Mr. Trent, you have just paid for Mr. Potter's insubordinance. Mr. Potter, if you wish to hurt more of your peers, I suggest you continue to ask stupid questions like that."
Nobody spoke. Mr. Devici addressed them all. "I will now show you to your dorms. You will have the rest of the day off, to introduce yourselves to each other and cry your eyes out, or whatever the fuck you want to do. This is the only free time you'll have during the duration of your stay here, so I suggest that you enjoy it."
****
I hope you liked it! Please review!!
-AB
I didn't put in a disclaimer last time because...well, if you're reading this, you already know what it says, so it's pointless.
If you want to flame me, that's fine; I like constructive criticism. Just don't flame because it contains slash. That's just stupid. I won't stop writing it, and neither will anybody else.
St. Brutus's Program for Incurably Homosexual Boys... by AnonymousBystander
Chapter 1 - Mr. Devici
"You, boy, in!"
Harry called out in pain as he was thrown roughly into the cupboard under the stairs in Number Four, Privet Drive.
Uncle Vernon stood outside, sillhouetted in the light from the pristinely clean hallway.
Harry whipped out his wand, pointing it straight at Uncle Vernon's heart. "Move--out of the way," he growled at his large Uncle.
Uncle Vernon's hand flashed forward, grasping Harry's wrist in a bone-cracking grip, forcing the wand tip towards the ceiling. Vernon squeezed harder, bending Harry's arm up, up, up... There was a sickening _crack_, and a searing pain shot up Harry's arm. He shouted in pain and dropped the wand, pulling his arm into his body, cradling it.
Uncle Vernon grabbed at the wand, immediately holding it through his shirt, as though he was afraid that just by holding it he was exposing himself to the evil 'magic'.
"I'll be seeing you soon, boy," Vernon spat, slamming the door to the cupboard shut and clicking the lock.
Harry sat hunched in the darkness, cradling his aching arm. It was very cramped; Harry felt it was hard to believe that he'd ever slept in that tiny closet.
Prodding his arm gently, Harry came to the conclusion that it was not broken, just sprained or possibly bruised.
What could he do now? He was locked in a tiny, dark cupboard with no wand, no owl, and the prospect of some horrible program at St. Brutus's secure center for incurable criminal boys. He was trapped, enclosed by a cage that he could not escape.
His head swarming with thoughts and worries, he drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
****
"Get up, boy, get up!"
Harry's eyes opened, then closed quickly at the large amount of light that was entering cupboard; it was morning. Every part of Harry's body seemed to be aching; he was stiff from sleeping all night in a sitting position, and his bruised right arm was throbbing dully.
Harry opened his eyes again and squinted into Uncle Vernon's purple face.
"What?" he groaned, trying to stretch, but his arms only hit the sides of the cupboard.
Uncle Vernon smiled evilly yet again. "Did you have a good sleep, boy?"
"No," Harry said quickly.
"Good, it's time to go."
Harry was pulled unceremoniously from the cupboard and thrown just as roughly into the car.
"It's your lucky day," said Vernon, his smile once again in place. "I was just able to sneak you in to St. Brutus's summer program. You should thank me. I think you'll have an excellent time there."
Harry didn't answer, trying to sort out everything that was going on in his mind at the moment. It wasn't working. He couldn't figure out what to do. Normally, he had an escape route, a plan B, but this time, he was lost. He didn't know what was going to happen to him at St. Brutus's, but he knew that it wouldn't be good.
"We're here," said Vernon maliciously, pulling Harry out of the car.
The building in front of which they stood was the bleakest one Harry had ever seen. It was a huge grey box made entirely of stone. If there were any windows in the entire place, Harry couldn't see any of them, and there was only one door, which was some sort of black metal. Around the entire thing was a twenty foot high chainlink fence topped with barbed wire. To Harry, it looked like some sort of prison.
Vernon grabbed Harry by his bicep and pulled him to a gate in the fence, which was flanked by two guards who didn't bother to hide their sub-machine guns.
Vernon approached on of the guards. "Harry Potter," he barked. "He's here for one of the ... summer programs."
"Yes, sir, we'll take him from here. Thank you sir," replied one of the guards curtly and roughly.
The guard grabbed Harry hard at the same place Uncle Vernon had as Vernon walked back to the car and disappeared.
The guard turned to him. "If you attempt to escape, I have the moral and legal obligation to shoot you, fag."
Harry said nothing. Once again, he felt trapped, as he was dragged through the gate and to the metal door. The guard punched in a ten digit code, and the door swung open on its own.
Harry was led through a maze-like series of corridors and stairs. He knew this was purposefully done; he would never be able to find his way back if he were to escape the custody of this guard.
They found their way to a door labled "Homosexuals", underneath which somebody had scratched the word "fags". The guard opened the door and threw Harry inside. "Sit down and shut up," he said, before slamming the door shut.
Harry rubbed his arm in pain and looked around the room. There were six chairs in the center of the room, four of which were occupied by boys about his age. They all looked nervous, and none of them spoke. Harry took one of the seats.
They waited in silence, the tension eating at them.
The door opened, and the guard that had led - or thrown - Harry into the room tossed in another boy, who fell onto the floor and slid four or five feet. He was tall and dark, with close-cropped black hair, and looked to be incredibly strong and built - he was gorgeous, and everybody in the room knew it. The door slammed shut. The newcomer scrambled to his feet and grabbed at the doorknob, attempting to pull it open, but it was locked.
The boy turned to face the other five of them, looking like he was either about to speak or shout, but he just sat down in the last seat, right next to Harry. Harry looked at him, but just before he had a chance to speak, the door banged opened and a man entered.
The new man had a demonic sort of look about him - tall, almost pointed ears, and a goatee that curled upwards, pointing at his chin. The man looked to be about forty, and looked extremely tired.
He walked up to the line of occupied chairs and paced up and down it several times, obviously starting to form words in his head.
"Welcome," he said, "to St. Brutus's Program for Incurable Homosexual Boys." Pause. "My name is Mr. Devici. You may address me as Mr. Devici or 'sir'. Nothing else is acceptable. Over the next eight weeks you will forsake your homosexual ways and become a respectible human being, not the scum you are now. There will be pain, but there always is; no pain, no gain. Are there any questions?"
Harry raised his hand.
"What?!" Mr. Devici shouted, as though he didn't want anybody to actually ask any questions.
"Sir, what's the point of trying to 'cure' us, if were 'incurably homosexual'?"
Mr. Devici stood in front of Harry for a moment, obviously pondering the question, then swung around and hit the dark boy next to Harry with the back of his hand. The boy fell off of the chair, clutching his face. Harry stared in shock.
"Mr..." he checked a sheet on the clipboard he carried, "Mr. Trent, you have just paid for Mr. Potter's insubordinance. Mr. Potter, if you wish to hurt more of your peers, I suggest you continue to ask stupid questions like that."
Nobody spoke. Mr. Devici addressed them all. "I will now show you to your dorms. You will have the rest of the day off, to introduce yourselves to each other and cry your eyes out, or whatever the fuck you want to do. This is the only free time you'll have during the duration of your stay here, so I suggest that you enjoy it."
****
I hope you liked it! Please review!!
-AB