Author's Note: I do not own any of the rights to Homphobia. It was written and performed by the awesome British Indie band Chumbawamba. Note that these lyrics are from the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence Mix.
Second Author's Note: My love to Andi and Starbucks2012 for reviewing my story.
Third Author's Note: Story has been ret-conned to take place in fall and winter, not spring. Their first date took place in early October, and it is now early November. Thanks!
Italics: Song lyrics
Bold: Takes place in the past
Normal: Takes place in the present
Up behind the bus stop in the toilets of the street
There are traces of a killing on the floor beneath your feet
Mixed in with the piss and beer are bloodstains on the floor
From the boy who got his head kicked in a night or two before
As the transparent girl related her horrific tale, Albus Dumbledore bolted from his chair, and nearly broke the door from its hinges. He strode down the corridor in the utmost haste, dashing past students and teachers, nearly bowling over Professor Sprout in his hurry.
As he passed Professor McGonagall, he said quietly, but with urgency, "Follow me!"
She saw the look on his face, and quickly obeyed.
By and by they came to Moaning Myrtle's bathroom, and, finding the door barred by a hasty Holding Hex, Dumbledore drew his formidable wand. He whispered a few words and the door shattered like glass. They both went quickly inside, and the old wizard found his worst fears confirmed.
Percy lay amid the water and filth on the tiled floor, his body a bloody mess. He was moaning softy, and obviously in an incomprehensible amount of pain. Across his forehead, the word "FAGGOT" had been burnt, as clearly as if it had been printed. McGonagall gasped.
"Albus, what-?"
"Not now. Get Poppy. Now!" He said quickly.
McGonagall nodded, and dashed to the hallway. The only one there was Peeves. So much the better.
"Peeves!", she barked.
The poltergeist turned around to make a rude reply, then saw the look in her eyes, and said meekly "Yes?"
"Fetch Madame Pomfrey. Now!"
He zoomed off through the stony walls.
Dumbledore was bent over the redhead, trying to decipher his mumblings. One word became clear above everything else.
"Flint…"
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
Madame Pomfrey, seeing his condition, used magic to lift him and quickly transport him to the Hospital Wing. She pronounced his condition critical, but most likely not fatal. As the capable Madame Pomfrey tended to his wounds, McGonagall and Dumbledore spoke in hushed tones.
"Albus, what will we do?"
"We will find who did this, and so help me Merlin, he will be expelled and sent to Azkaban, if I have anything to say about. I give you my word, Minerva. Find me Marcus Flint."
"Flint?"
"Yes. That was the last thing Weasley said before he lost consciousness. It may be the confusion of his mind, his head being in such heavy trauma, but it is a start. I will follow every lead; I will question the stones themselves if I have to. And fetch Oliver Wood as well, please."
"Wood, too? Surely not Wood?"
"No, Minerva, not Wood. But he will want to be with Percy right now."
And so the tall woman strode off, leaving the old wizard at the side of Percy's bed. He looked at the freckled face, so mangled by the blows of his assailants, and felt a pang of regret and pain such as he had not felt for years.
In the pubs, clubs, and burger bars, breeding pens for pigs
Alcohol, testosterone, and ignorance and fists
Packs of hunting animals roam across the town
And they find an easy victim and they punch him to the ground
Marcus Flint sat in the Slytherin common room, at 10:00 am, his head dizzy with Firewhiskey and rage. Slytherin had lost in the previous day's Quidditch match with Gryffindor.
"God damn him!" He growled to any who would listen, "God damn Oliver Wood, the fucking faggot! I could kill him and his boyfriend, fucking Weasley!", and so on, in that vein.
Eventually, words and alcohol gave rise to action and alcohol. Flint, Montague, and several other burly Slytherins left the common room, looking for Wood or Weasley. Eventually, they saw the tall, thin redhead walking along the corridor near Moaning Myrtle's bathroom.
"Perfect", chuckled Flint.
Montague waited until he walked near their hiding place, and zapped Percy with a quick Petrificus Totalus. The Prefect snapped straight as a board, and fell down. They cast a quick disillusionment charm, and carried him into the bathroom. They cast several locking charms on the door, and then removed the enchantments from Percy.
"You fucking faggot", slurred Flint. He hit the redhead square in the jaw, felling him with a single blow.
They continued to yell abuse at him, slamming him into the tiled floor, the sinks, and the toilets, even using the stall doors in their rage. They even kicked at his head. As he lay moaning and bloodied on the floor, Flint pulled his wand out from his robes. He aimed it at Percy, and said "Letra Pyrius". Flame shot from his wand and burned the letters F A G G O T into Percy's forehead. But he was not finished.
"Crucio.", he bellowed.
Percy's body was electrified with pain, Red-hot pincers clawed his body. He felt as if he was on fire. Knives seemed to stab him on every side. He screamed so hard he choked.
It was then that Moaning Myrtle happened to return to her habitual abode. Seeing what was going on, she let out a shriek. Frightened, the boys ran from the room, leaving Percy on the floor. The ghostly girl flew as fast as she could to the Headmaster.
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
Oliver walked softly into the Hospital Wing. When he saw Percy, bloodied and mangled, he nearly broke down. But McGonagall put her hand on his shoulder, and drew himself up. Percy needed him to be strong.
He sat down at the bedside of his boyfriend. The redhead appeared to be asleep. Madame Pomfrey was washing his wounds with a purple liquid. It was then that Oliver noticed the letters burnt into his forehead.
"Madame Pomfrey…"
"Yes, Master Wood?"
"Abut his forehead…"
"Master Wood, I have yet to meet a burn tougher than I am. I wouldn't worry. That's not the problem."
Oliver sat by Percy's bedside for what seemed like an eternity. He held the soft hands with their long, slender fingers, and gently stroked the bruised arms. How could this happen? Perce…
After about an hour, the bell for the switch of classes rang out. Oliver looked around, torn between having to go to class and staying with Percy. He wanted to stay in the Hospital Wing, but Madame Pomfrey would probably throw him, his free period over. No. I can't leave Percy. If I have to fight them wand to wand, I will.
"Worry not, Master Wood. You may stay as long as you need. Master Weasley needs you more than Professor Flitwick. Filius will understand." Dumbledore's soft voice came from across the room.
"Oh, er, thank you, Professor.", and Oliver sat down again with his boyfriend.
The siren of the ambulance, the deadpan of the cops
Chalk to mark the outline where the boy first dropped
Dumbledore walked softy out of the Hospital Wing and into the corridor, where Professor McGonagall met him. She had Marcus with her, looking sullen and surly. Dumbledore motioned for them to follow as he walked, and both did. They walked the long hallways towards the bathroom where Percy had been attacked. As they walked, Dumbledore began to speak.
"I wonder, Master Flint, if you might not know the state of Master Percy Weasley at the present time."
Flint didn't answer. McGonagall prodded him sharply, and he mumbled,
"No, Professor."
"Really, Master Flint? In that case, I shall inform you. Master Weasley has been severely beaten, especially about the head, to the point of unconsciousness. We believe he was a victim of the Cruciatus Curse. The word FAGGOT was also burnt into his forehead. You were totally unaware of this?"
"Yes, Professor."
"I see. That seems odd to me, Master Flint. Do you know why?"
"No, Professor."
"Because I believe you perpetrated the atrocity, Master Flint. Did you?"
"No, Professor."
"How interesting. Because, you see, there are several people who say they heard Master Malfoy bragging about how you and he got Percy."
"That's not right, Malfoy wasn't there."
"Then who was?" Dumbledore said triumphantly. Marcus cursed at his mistake, and clamped a hand over his mouth.
"I wonder, Master Flint", said McGonagall, "If you could inform the Headmaster and I of your whereabouts of the past few hours?"
"I'm not saying a bloody thing more." The Slytherin said defiantly.
"Very well, but I, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, as Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry and Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, as witnessed here by my Deputy Headmistress, Minerva McGonagall, hereby place you under arrest for the crime of using an Unforgivable Curse on a fellow Wizard and for Assault on the person of another Wizard. I, under article 976, sub-section 4 of the Hogwarts Charter, hereby demand from you your wand."
Sullenly, Flint handed over his wand.
Pointing his own at it, Dumbledore said Priori Incantantum. A shadow version of Percy was hit by a dark beam, and writhed in agony The effects of the Cruciatus Cruse were unmistakable.
Beware the holy trinity: church and state and law
For every death the virus gets more deadly than before
Cornelius Fudge's portly figure emerged from the emerald flames of Dumbledore's fire. The Minister for Magic dusted himself off, and shook hands brusquely with the Headmaster.
"Well, Dumbledore, what's this all about? I get a message from you saying its urgent, I must come at once. Damn it, Albus, I'm a busy man! We've got a madman on the loose, panic in the streets, and I don't have time to come running to Hogwarts every few minutes."
"I assure you, Cornelius, it is imperative you be here now."
"Well, what the devil is it then?"
"Percy Weasley was attacked today."
"By Sirius Black?"
"No, by Marcus Flint and possibly several others. He, or they, accosted him, dragged him into the bathroom, beat him severely, cast the Cruciatus curse upon him, and burned the word FAGGOT into his forehead. He is critical condition in the Hospital Wing now. Given Brutus and Messalina Flint's prominent position in society and your own friendship with them, I thought it best to inform you personally that I have, as a member of the Wizengamot, arrested him, as per Article 67, sub-section 12 of the Wizengamot's Code, I have charged him with the Use of an Unforgivable Curse on a Wizard and Assault and Battery, and I will pursue life in Azkaban as punishment. In the meantime, he is to be expelled immediately, and transferred to the custody of the Dementors in Azkaban."
"You, Albus", said Fudge, coloring and flustering at the old wizard, "will do no such thing, whatsoever."
"I beg your pardon, Cornelius?", said Dumbledore softly.
"Brutus Flint is the owner and editor of the Daily Prophet, and not to mention close personal friend. I cannot afford to have such an influential man turned against the Ministry at such a time of national crisis. Nor can I afford Hogwart's security measures to be so doubted in such a time. What you will do is this: formally release Flint from custody, withdraw any and all forms, claims, and paperwork you may have submitted, and drop the matter entirely. Flint is not to be expelled, suspended, or anything of the sort. That's final."
"Minister Fudge, Flint has broken the most powerful law on the Wizarding Code, the laws against the Unforgivable Curses. He deserves life in Azklaban."
"you have no proof of that!"
"I do. Priori Incantantum revealed the use of the Cruciatus Curse on Master Weasley. I also have the word of Moaning Myrtle, the ghost who say it all and reported it to me."
"Albus, you know as well as I that a ghost's words cannot be used as evidence."
"And I have Master Weasley himself, once he has recovered, and Flint's own admission, as witnessed by myself and Professor McGonagall."
"The word of the victim, a homosexual at that, will hardly be well received. It makes no difference, Dumbledore. You will not mention this incident to anyone, You will not speak of it to students, teachers, parents, the press, anyone. At all."
"And the Weasley's?"
"Excuse me?"
"While I am not telling nothing to students, teachers, parents, the press, or anyone, what will I be telling Mr. and Mrs. Weasley? How shall I explain their son's condition to them? Shall I say 'Molly, Arthur, I'm so sorry, Percy has been viciously attacked and tortured, and while I may know the culprit, I cannot and will not be doing anything about it?' Is that what you'd like Molly Weasley to hear?"
"Damn it, why are you being so difficult? Tell her anything. Tell her her son did it himself, I don't know! Whatever pops into that wacky head of yours. Just not that!"
"And by that you mean the truth?"
"Yes, dammit!"
Dumbledore drew himself u to his full height, and towered over the diminutive Fudge. He fixed the other man with his piercing blue-eyed stare, which set the smaller man's air on end. He said in a voice terrible like a winter storm.
"Minister, are you asking me, as Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and as a human being, to allow injustice to go free, to allow hate to flourish in my beloved school, to let the person who committed such an atrocity to freely wander my halls? Is that what you, Cornelius Fudge, are asking me to do? To go contrary to every principle I hold dear, simply so your precious Death-Eater friends do not withdraw their precious support?"
"Yes, Dammit, Dumbledore! Just let the damn boy go! Where the hell is he? Where is Flint?"
"I'm sorry?", Dumbledore had returned to his normal state and condition, but Fudge was no less perturbed.
"WHERE the HELL is MARCUS FLINT?" thundered Fudge. "As Minister for Magic, I hereby order and command you to let him go!"
"My dear Mr. Fudge, he has been confined to one of the empty classrooms. Surely you do not think I would let an accused criminal wander freely about my halls!"
"He is not an accused criminal!"
"When last I checked, Marcus Flint was awaiting trial in Wizengamot case 9874RT, Ministry of Magic v. Marcus Flint et. al. on charges of Using an Unforgivable Curse on a Wizard and Assault and Battery on Percy Ignatius Weasley."
"You will drop those charges!"
"I, Minister, will do no such thing!"
"Think very carefully about what you're doing Dumbledore, you and the Weasley boy. Think very carefully!" With that, Fudge strode defiantly back into the green fire of the fireplace and returned to his office.
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
Oliver sat by Percy's bedside, holding his hand. The redhead had yet to stir or awaken from his coma. Tears had run their silent course down the Quidditch payer's cheek. It was the middle of the afternoon. Fred and George, having been informed of their brother's case, crept silently in and sat down next to Oliver. Fred held a bundle of magazines. He handed them to Oliver.
Oliver looked at the publication. On the cover was an almost nude young wizard in an interesting position. At the top, the title read Witch Boys. In spite of himself, Oliver laughed.
"He thought you would get him a subscription to this." He explained.
"Yeah, well, we tried, but we couldn't get his ID for the longest time. We pinched it last week, and then bought some in Hogsmeade. Getting the subscription was easy, it's gonna start arriving in about a month, but we got some back issues to put in his room. But we heard about this, so we brought 'em up here…"
"Thanks…"
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
Molly and Fred Weasley walked the long Hgwarts corridors towards the Hospital Wing, their hearts heavy…
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please
That night, at dinner, Dumbledore sat at the staff table of the Great Hall, looking out over the eating students. One by one they began to finish their meals. He looked over at McGonagall, who sat on his far right. She nodded silently. He stood up, and motioned for silence. It came quickly.
'My dear students", he began, "today our school was the scene of a heinous and horrific crime…
No! Homophobia--the worst disease
Love how you want to love and love who you please