Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“I appreciate this is a difficult decision for you, Mr. Dursley, but it is the right one for the boy,” Father Thomas said. “We have done everything we can for little Harry at the  Sunday school, but he still seems to be deteriorating.”

Harry stared at his feet, listening to the adults talking about him over his head. 

“Right you are, Father,” Uncle Vernon grunted. “The little bug— erm — the boy is incorrigible. I’m afraid my wife can’t take this any longer; there have been too many freaky incidents happening. She’s delicate, my Petunia.”

Aunt Petunia made sure Father Thomas saw her dabbing her eyes with a neatly pressed, pristine handkerchief. Dudley was making faces at Harry from behind her back.

So, it was happening at last; the Dursleys had been talking about giving Harry away for the past two years. Before that, they'd just complained non-stop how much easier their lives would be without him, but ever since Aunt Marge’s dog had suddenly lost his teeth after chasing Harry up to a tree, they’d begun to actively plan for getting rid of him. 

Now that Harry had turned twelve, he was old enough to be signed up to St. Brutus’s Abbey. 

“I understand Mr. Dursley. Your family needs time to heal, and little Harry here needs a chance to be liberated from the Devil’s clutches. This is something we can offer at St. Brutus’s. I promise you that I will personally oversee his progress,” Father Thomas said. He placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder and left it there. “There is no need to worry, we shall take good care of him.”

Harry sighed in relief at the good news. He rather liked the tall priest, who was stern but had never been unfair to Harry. His warm, firm hands were never cruel when they guided Harry to kneel at the altar or to lace his fingers in prayer. He was one of the few people who didn't turn away in disgust or fear when he looked at the Devil’s mark on Harry’s forehead. 

“Right then, boy. Do as Father Thomas says and get yourself fixed,” Uncle Vernon said, bending so close that a drop of spit hit Harry’s face when he spoke. For an insane moment, Harry thought Uncle Vernon might hug him, but the beefy man only grunted to his ear. “Don’t get yourself kicked out of the place. There’s no coming back to my house with the things you’ve been pulling off.”

Harry had only seen St. Brutus’s Abbey in passing before. A forlorn parking lot separated it from the church where Harry went to Sunday school — Dudley had been excused from participating after he’d thrown a tantrum for not being allowed to eat all the wafer.

The old limestone building stood tall behind thick walls and a verdant garden. Large iron gates at the front squeaked when Father Thomas opened them and let Harry into the courtyard. Harry could smell freshly cut grass and rain in the air; it was strange to think that such a place of tranquillity existed right in the middle of the busy town of Little Whinging. A warm summer drizzle dampened Harry’s hair when they walked through the garden towards the tall double doors in silence.

“All right, Harry,” Father Thomas said, opening the heavy oak doors with a large iron key hanging from his belt. “Welcome to St. Brutus’s Abbey.” 

They entered into a dimly lit corridor, which smelled like dust and leather. A bit like a library, Harry thought. Father Thomas led him past several closed doors and up a flight of stairs, his determined steps clicking against the smooth stone floor. He opened a door at the end of another corridor and urged Harry into a spacious office. A large stained glass window allowed the room to bathe in a kaleidoscope of colourful spots of light. Under the window stood a massive mahogany desk, and the back wall was completely covered with bookcases. At the side stood an oddly shaped, leather-covered bench.

“Why don’t you sit down for a moment, Harry,” Father Thomas said, gesturing towards a guest chair next to his desk. He gave Harry an encouraging smile. “I need to attend to some paperwork right now, but Brother Severus — he is our novice master — will collect you soon. I shall see you again in the evening for the initial inspection of purity.”

“Ok, I mean, yes, Sir,” Harry stammered. He was anxious to learn he’d be separated from the only person he knew in this place so soon. And an inspection of purity? What if they decide that I’m not pure enough? He did sometimes speak in the Devil’s tongue, and then there was the mark on his forehead. Uncle Vernon had said that he wasn’t welcome back to Private Drive again. What if they threw Harry out on the streets? He was beginning to panic.

Father Thomas seemed to notice Harry’s distress and crouched to meet his eyes, placing both of his hands on Harry’s shoulders. 

“Harry, there is no need to worry. You are safe here, and I shall personally oversee your education, like I promised Mr Dursley. Every novice gets inspected when they are admitted here; that’s how we know what kind of issues we need to work on. I’m afraid you have rather more issues than an average novice, but I am here to help you. No one’s planning on throwing you out.” 

Father Thomas straightened his back and looked at Harry questioningly. Nervous sweat ran down Harry’s back again. He was a difficult case — maybe they couldn’t help him after all— 

With a sigh, the priest glanced pointedly at Harry’s nervously fidgeting feet. He lifted his eyebrow. “What did I say about worrying, Harry?”

“Um, that I shouldn’t?”

Father Thomas gave him a small smile. “You will learn to trust us here, I promise you this. The rules are strict, but they are for your benefit." The man gazed out of the window with a pensive look on his face. "Now, I don’t usually do this, but as you are a special case, I shall personally be mentoring you— ah, here’s Severus.”

The door opened, and a sour-looking man entered. Lank, black hair framed his sallow face and black eyes. “You called, Father?” 

“Severus, this is our latest recruit, novice Harry. Would you be so kind as to show him to the dormitories and give him an overview of the basic rules, please? I shall give him further details when we see for inspection tonight.”

Brother Severus’s eyebrows shot up upon hearing the last sentence, but he collected himself quickly. “Of course, Father. Come along then, Harry. There is a lot to go through before supper,” he gestured and, taking Harry’s bag, chased him out of the room.

Harry quickly lost count of the winding passageways and corridors Brother Severus took him through, but eventually they emerged into the novice dormitory. He kept trying to steal glimpses through open doors and tall windows, but it was a struggle to keep up with Brother Severus’s brisk steps as it was. Harry decided to hurry up, wanting to make a good first impression on the novice master.

The dormitory was a long, narrow room on the ground floor, with windows facing towards the garden outside. Six tidy beds lay in a row, between each of them a chest for the inhabitant's belongings.

“This is where the first-year novices sleep, Harry. The second-year dormitory is directly above, on the first floor. I believe this first bed is vacant, so it’s yours now. Unpack your things and change into this.” Brother Severus pushed into Harry’s hands a parcel he had grabbed from a closet on their way to the dormitory. “I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Brother Severus closed the door behind him, and Harry sank on the bed. It was quite overwhelming to take all of this on, and there was a lot more to come. He sighed and got up to empty the few things he had into the chest: a dog-eared Bible, a copy of Oliver Twist, a teddy bear that was missing both eyes and one leg — courtesy of aunt Marge’s dog from when he still had teeth — two pairs of socks (almost no holes) and boxers (brand new!) and a toothbrush. Harry removed his jeans and t-shirt and folded them neatly in the chest. 

It took a moment to work out how to put on the habit Brother Severus had given him. The brown tunic was made of thick linen, not exactly soft, but it was sturdy and fit him surprisingly well. On top of the tunic, Harry put on a cowl made of thick wool. He wrapped himself in the warm clothes and curled on the bed to wait for Brother Severus’s return.

Harry jumped up from the bed in alarm when the door creaked open. Was sleeping forbidden? Would he get punished now? What kind of punishments did they impose here? Uncle Vernon was rather fond of his leather belt, and Aunt Petunia frequently hurt Harry with her mean words — not to mention food restriction. Harry hoped the monks might be different.

“When a superior arrives in a room, you must get up and greet by saying Dominus vobiscum, Harry. It means ‘the Lord be with you’,” Brother Severus said, looking down at Harry. “Say it now.”

“D-dominus vobiscum,” Harry stuttered at his toes, too nervous to meet the man’s eyes.

“Et cum spiritu tuo,” Brother Severus said. “It means ‘and with your spirit’. This is how we reply to the greeting. This is your first lesson in Latin, make sure you learn it by tomorrow.” At Harry’s nod, Brother Severus continued. “The monastery is quite large, and I shall only show you the most important parts today. You are allowed to go anywhere in the building that is not locked, but you will have little free time to wander around, I’m afraid. You are not to leave the premises on your own.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“No need to call me Sir, Harry. Brother Severus is fine.”

Harry followed the dark-haired man down two flights of stairs to another corridor. The air here was damp, and the stone walls were sweating slightly. Brother Severus opened the door at the end of the musty underground corridor and urged Harry in. The room was filled with odd artefacts, sinister-looking objects and piles of thick, dusty tomes. Only a small sliver of light escaped the heavy black curtains blocking a single window close to the ceiling. Brother Severus gestured Harry to sit down on a hard wooden bench while he sat down behind a crowded desk.

“This is my office. I am the novice master in St. Brutus, which means that you can come to me with any concerns or issues you have. I am also the Prior, which means I am superior to all the other monks here, second only to Father Thomas. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Brother Severus.”

“In addition to my duties as the novice master, I am the infirmer; that means that you present to me with any minor illness or injury. 

“We have twenty-six brothers here at St. Brutus, but for now it suffices that you know of the ones who will be teaching you. Brother Rabastan teaches religious studies; he is also the circuitor, that means he is in charge of discipline. Brother Rodolphus is in charge of clothing and feeding us; he will be teaching you any practical chores you need to know, gardening, cleaning, cooking and the like. Brother Bartemius is our librarian, and he teaches Latin. Can you repeat the greeting you learned earlier to me now?”

“D-dominus vo— vo—”

“Dominus vobiscum, Harry.” Brother Severus looked stern but not angry. Harry felt hopeful that he might not have earned a visit to the disciplinarian yet — Brother Rabastan, was it? Dominus vobiscum, dominus vobiscum, Harry repeated in his mind.

“The last teacher is called Brother Regulus. He supervises the choir practice."

Rabastan is the disciplinarian, Rodolphus does practical, Bartemius teaches Latin, Regulus supervises the choir. Why does everyone here have such strange names?

“ — by the end of this week. Are you listening?”

“Yes, Si— Brother Severus. I mean no, I’m sorry.” There was a big lump in Harry’s throat. “I think I missed some of what you said just now.”

“You are forgiven, but pay attention now. I will not repeat myself again,” Brother Severus said sternly. “As I said, here in St. Brutus's we have a schedule that we follow every weekday; Saturday and Sunday have separate schedules. I shall expect you to memorise it by the end of this week.” 

Harry nodded and tried desperately to concentrate on the flood of information that was being poured into him.

Content with Harry’s nod, Brother Severus continued, “We get up at six in the morning and go to bed at eight in the evening. There are three masses during the day. Between them, you will be studying and working with the other novices.

“But now, it’s getting close to suppertime. I’ll take you to the refectory – that’s the dining hall. After the meal, you shall follow the other novices to the evening mass.”

Harry’s head was spinning. At least the schedule is the same almost every day, he thought, that way I have a chance of learning it. 

Brother Severus took him up to the ground floor and back to the wide hallway where he had first entered the monastery. The double doors at the far end were now open, and Harry could see people sitting at long tables, eating and chatting quietly. A delicious smell of food lingered in the air. Everyone wore an outfit similar to his, except for Father Thomas, whose habit was black.

Another monk with square shoulders and lightly stubbled jaw approached them, smiling radiantly. Why is everyone so good-looking in this place?  

“Dominus vobiscum,” he said to Harry. 

“Er,” said Harry, who had no recollection as to what the answer was. “Thanks.” 

“Et cum spiritu tuo,” said the man. His smile deepened, and Harry noticed a devastating dimple on his left cheek. 

Oh my god, he’s so handsome. Harry swallowed a lump in his throat, now panicking again. I can’t say ‘oh my god’ any more, can I? Crap! No— swearing is probably also forbidden. He wanted to sink through the floor.

“Brother Rodolphus, this is novice Harry, who has just joined us today,” Brother Severus said, when it became obvious that Harry had been rendered speechless. 

“Nice to meet you, Harry,” Brother Rodolphus said. “How about we get you something to eat? First day, huh? You must be completely overwhelmed, poor thing.”

He kept talking soothingly, taking Harry by the shoulder and leading him towards the back of the room, where food was laid out on a serving table. Harry felt eyes on his back when they passed a table full of teenage boys —  the other novices. 

“Here’s a bowl for you, Harry. After you’ve eaten, wash it in that sink in the corner. Do you know how?”

A snicker escaped Harry. “Yes, Brother, I have been doing all the washing and cooking back at my uncle and aunt’s place as long as I can recall.”

“Really? Well, I guess it’s good you know how to do some chores. I have the feeling we’ll be getting along well,” Brother Rodolphus said and winked at him, making heat rise up to Harry’s ears.

Brother Rodolphus filled Harry’s bowl to the brim with thick, creamy soup and led him to an empty seat at the novices' table. There were a dozen boys already eating and chatting there, all of whom turned to look at Harry on his arrival. Some of the faces peering at him were friendly, some merely curious. Everyone seemed to be around Harry’s age or slightly older, though it was sometimes difficult to judge — he was used to being on the smaller side, even with kids of his own age.

“Ronald,” Brother Rodolphus addressed a red-haired boy next to Harry, “would you kindly take Harry under your wing for the first couple of days?  Show him where to go and when, you know the drill.”

“Of course, Brother Rodolphus!” the boy said and grinned at Harry. “Nice to meet you, Harry! My name is Ron. These are Neville, Theodore, Blaise and Draco.” He pointed in turn at four boys around them while introducing them to Harry. “We’re all first-years. The second-years sit at the other end of the table and the other tables are for the Brothers. I guess you met Rodolphus already? He’s dead nice. I wish he were my mentor instead of old Rabbie,” Ron rambled on. “Who’s yours?”

“Er. I think it’s Father Thomas?” Harry said unsurely.

Ron looked shocked. Several of the other boys were gaping at Harry, too. “You’re joking, right? Tom never takes on novices. Actually, I don’t recall him ever even talking to any of us after we joined, well, except for the High Mass, or when he’s addressing the whole brethren.” 

“I— I think he mentioned it — but it might be that I misunderstood,” Harry said apologetically. “It’s been quite an info dump on me,” he blanched and whispered, “Sorry. I mean, it’s been a lot.”

“Don’t worry, we’re not going to rat on you for something like that,” a chubby, friendly-looking boy — Neville — on his other side said. “Most of the Brothers are pretty cool, they won’t care about bad words and such as long as you behave at Mass and the classes and don’t cause any ruckus. But be careful of Severus and Rabastan; those two love the rules.”

“Thanks, Neville,” Harry grinned shyly and tucked into his food while the other boys chatted away. The hot soup tasted wonderful.

Once Harry had emptied his bowl, he looked at Ron again. “So, what’s next?”

“It’s evening mass with Brother Rabastan, and then we have some time for silent work. It’s meant to be for reading or praying, but they don’t really care what we do as long as we're quiet,” Ron said. “I’ve got some comics in my chest that you can borrow if you like,” he whispered to Harry. 

“Harry’s going to have his inspection tonight though, isn’t he?” said a haughty-looking blond boy who was sitting opposite Harry. The knowing smirk on his face wasn’t altogether friendly. 

“Ooh, you’re right, Draco, he is!” A dark-skinned boy next to him made a low whistle, his beautiful brown eyes going wide. “He’s got the inspection with Tom.”

Everyone stared at Harry for a moment in silent awe before a low chime snapped them out of it. Saved by the bell, Harry thought.

The upcoming inspection was making him nervous, and the other boys seemed to be surprised by who his mentor was. Yet everyone else had been through it, and Harry would make it, too. He trusted Father Thomas. Harry sneaked a peek at the head table where the tall priest was getting up, engaged in a conversation with some of the brothers. 

Harry was distracted throughout the evening mass, squirming on the hard wooden pew. Though he tried to pay attention, the Latin phrases were long and frequent, a lot of it going way over his head. His thoughts kept slipping this way and that, mostly towards the inspection. After talking to the other novices, it had now grown into a huge and scary ordeal in his head.

By the end of the mass, Harry was a quivering wreck. Ron and Neville walked him to Father Thomas’s office, trying to distract him with their chatting, though they were quick to abandon Harry to wait alone as soon as they got behind Father Thomas's door.

After a few moments, Harry heard the now familiar clicking of Father Thomas’s shoes on the stone floor behind him. As he approached, he gave Harry a reassuring smile. He opened the door and urged Harry in before him.

“Dominus v-vobiscum,” Harry stammered as he entered the room

“Et cum spiritu tuo. Very good, Harry,” Father Thomas said and closed the door. Harry heard the lock snick and turned around in alarm. Father Thomas considered his expression for a moment, and when he spoke again, there was a hint of reproach in his voice.

“I am sure the other novices have told you all kinds of stories about what’s happening tonight, but I assure you, it is only a little chat, and then I’ll check you over. There is nothing to worry about. Why don’t you take a seat, first.”

“Yes, Si– Father Thomas,” Harry said, sitting again on the guest chair he’d occupied before. 

The man shuffled the papers on his desk, picking an official-looking form from under a small stack of papers. 

“First of all, how old are you again, Harry? Thirteen?”

“I’m twelve, Father Thomas. I’ll turn thirteen next summer.”

“Hmm, that is younger than we usually accept, but you are a bright boy. I’m sure it will not be a problem.”

They went through a series of questions about Harry’s health, if he had any allergies, if he had received his vaccines, how tall he was and the like. Harry zoned off, replying automatically to the questions until he heard Father Thomas ask about his virginity.

“Excuse me?” Harry spluttered, certain that he had misheard the man.

“I asked if you are a virgin, Harry. Have you had sexual intercourse?” 

“N-no, Father Thomas.”

“How about any other type of sex, oral or anal?” 

“I’m not sure what those things mean. I’m sorry.”

“That is quite all right, Harry. We shall see about that in a moment,” Father Thomas smiled. “What is your sexual orientation?”

“I— I— what’s that?”

“Are you gay, Harry? I apologise, but these questions are necessary, as I am now your legal guardian, as well as the spiritual one. It is important to know if you are pure.”

“I’m not sure, Father. Sorry,” Harry whispered. This wasn’t going well, though Harry didn’t quite understand why. “I’ve had a crush on a boy before, but I’ve never done anything.” Harry blushed. He couldn’t believe he was talking about this, and with a priest as well. 

“All right. Enough with the questions for now, it is time for your physical. Remove your clothes, please,” Father Thomas said, getting up.

Harry hurried to follow the orders, undressing and folding his cowl and tunic on the corner of the table. He’d had a check-up with the school nurse in the past and knew what to expect with measuring his height and weight.

Father Thomas stood right in front of Harry, towering over him. The man placed a finger under Harry’s chin and tilted his face up. Harry felt nervous about being so close to the man but tried not to shy and look away from those deep auburn eyes. 

Father Thomas stroked the Devil’s mark gently with his finger. As before, his touch on the mark on Harry’s forehead burned painfully. Tears welled in Harry’s eyes. Father Thomas tutted but moved his finger lower to trace the borders of Harry’s lips. He was so close that Harry could feel the man's warm breath on his skin. 

“Open your mouth,” Father Thomas said quietly.

“Ah,” Harry said like he would do at the dentist. 

He startled and only barely kept himself from biting Father Thomas, when two fingers suddenly slid in along his tongue and rubbed around his mouth. They felt strange and intrusive in their exploration, but at least there was no pain, only a warm, tingling sensation where the fingers touched.

“Hmm, it seems like you were telling the truth about your mouth. I wonder— ” Tom’s gaze dropped lower; he was now examining Harry’s chest. Father Thomas took Harry by the waist and lifted him up to stand on the chair. Without needing to crouch down quite so much now, Father Thomas placed his hands on Harry’s sides and ran his thumbs along Harry’s flat chest. There was a jolt akin to licking a battery when the rough pads slid over the tiny pink nubs of Harry’s flesh. The thumbs stroked back and forth a few times, and the sensation repeated. Harry looked down and did a double take: his skin seemed to glow in a golden hue wherever Father Thomas’s skin brushed against Harry’s.

“Nobody’s touched you here before.” A small smile curved at the corner of Father Thomas’s mouth. The thumbs were replaced with Father Thomas’s fingers, now drawing little circles around Harry's nipples. “This is excellent news, Harry. It means this area will be easier to purify once we start the process.” Father Thomas straightened up and took a step back. 

“Let’s see the rest. Your undergarments need to go, too,” Father Thomas said, looking gently at Harry.

“R-really?” Harry asked in a quivering voice.

“Yes, really.” Father Thomas hooked his fingers under the waistband of Harry’s boxers, the tug reminding him what he was meant to be doing.

Blushing furiously, Harry shimmied the boxers down and let them drop at his feet. At Father Thomas’s reproachful look, he quickly picked them up and added them to the pile with the rest of his folded clothing.

“It is quite common to be nervous about your first inspection, but I assure you, Harry, that there’s nothing to worry about,” Father Thomas said. “Have the other novices scared you with some wild tales?”

“No Sir, I mean — they didn’t quite say what but— they sort of made it sound like a big deal.” Harry wasn’t sure whether he should mention that what had made it a big deal was Father Tom doing this instead of one of the other teachers. 

“I see,” Father Tom hummed. He picked Harry by the waist and lifted him easily down on the floor again. Despite aunt Petunia’s constant nagging of him eating too much, Harry was small for his age. For someone with Father Thomas’ build, he must weigh almost nothing. 

With Harry safely on the floor, Father Tom circled behind his desk to look at some papers again. “Please kneel on the bench,” he said after a moment, as if an afterthought, his eyes still on the forms.

Harry obeyed the man and settled on the wooden bench. He blushed furiously when he realised that his prone position left his arse up and his little cock dangling free in the air. Other than that it was fairly comfortable to be on the lightly padded bench on his hands and knees, the bench also providing some support under his belly. 

After what felt like a long time the click of Father Thomas’s heels approached the bench. Harry felt a warm, firm hand on his back. 

“You’re very tense, Harry,” Father Thomas said gently. The hand stroked up and down his back, slowly soothing him. “Can you try and relax a bit for me? There’s no need to be shy, it’s just you and me here. You trust me, don’t you?”

Harry concentrated on the warm hand petting him. It was the gentlest touch he’d ever received and bit by bit Harry let go of his tension. He sighed and leaned into the touch.

“That’s it, Harry, very good.” Another hand was added and for a while, Father Thomas worked gently on the tension on Harry's back.

Gradually the hands started to travel slightly lower until they were petting Harry all the way down to his thighs. Despite his initial embarrassment at the situation, the warm hands made Harry feel like he was melting through the bench. Eventually the hands met in the middle to part his cheeks. Harry felt a cool breath on the sensitive skin around his hole as the priest inspected the area, but he was too relaxed to feel self-conscious about it.  Harry trusted that the priest knew what he was doing.

Father Thomas circled around Harry's hole lightly with his thumb, the touch making Harry’s skin tingle and burn again. Harry breathed through the sensation, trying to calm himself down. He concentrated on inhaling the dusty smell of the room and the oiled leather covering the bench. In. Out. The thumb worked on his hole. In. Out. Gradually, he relaxed to the alien feeling of his most private part being touched. In. Out. 

It felt like an eternity before Father Thomas hummed approvingly and released Harry's arse. He urged Harry to turn on his back on the bench. Once Harry was in place, the man did something and the bench moved under him. Suddenly the little side-stands that Harry had knelt on were the right height to rest his feet on. 

Being exposed in a new way, Harry's face grew hot again.

“Shh, Harry, this is the last thing for tonight," Father Thomas murmured, "You’re doing really well.” His hands rested on Harry’s knees and propped them to open. Harry threw his forearm to cover his blushing face and opened his legs a tad. 

“I’m going to need a bit more than this to finish the inspection, Harry,” Father Thomas said warningly and gave his knees a little nudge. Ears burning, Harry let the man push his legs all the way open. 

“Very good,” Father Thomas said and Harry felt the man’s gaze on his crotch. He closed his eyes in mortification — no one had ever looked at him like this.

Father Thomas cupped Harry's little balls in one hand as if to weigh them, and gave them a little tug. A warm sensation shot up and Harry whimpered. “Shh, there’s nothing to worry about. I’m so pleased with you Harry. It appears you were telling the truth earlier.” Father Thomas kept slowly rolling his sack and placed his other hand on Harry’s cock. A tingling sensation spread from his hand and to his horror, Harry felt his cock give a little twitch. Father Thomas hummed, proceeding to inspect the tip of Harry’s cock. He rubbed the slit with a finger, then pulled back the foreskin. The tingling sensation that spread from the man’s hands was becoming unbearable, and was only amplified by the cool breath of air which indicated that Father Thomas had bent closer down. His fingers pulled the foreskin back and forth a few times — why is this necessary? Harry wondered — and was embarrassed to find that once Father Thomas released him, his cock kept standing up all on its own. 

And it glowed.

Father Thomas was smiling warmly now, despite Harry’s horrible behaviour. The man was only doing his job — why did Harry's body have to misbehave like this? Harry covered his face with his hands, but Father Thomas pulled them off gently.

"Hush, there is no need for that, Harry," he said releasing Harry's hands. "You may get up and get dressed now." Father Thomas pressed Harry’s knees back together gently. 

Once dressed, Harry sat down in the guest chair, listening to the pencil scratch while Father Thomas wrote something down on the records. After a while he seemed to notice that Harry was ready and put the work down.

“The initial inspection is finished,” Father Thomas said and Harry released a long breath. He wasn’t sure he could have handled any more tonight. “You are indeed a virgin like you said, the inspection showed no signs of any type of intercourse or oral sex. It also seems that you are gay as I suspected, for you reacted quite strongly to my touch.” 

Harry blushed furiously, hoping the ground would swallow him so he could escape this moment. 

Father Thomas reached forward and lifted Harry’s chin up with a finger. “This is good news, Harry. Your sexual purity will help us greatly once we start the exorcism.”

For a moment, Harry pictured himself levitating over a bed in a long white nightgown, his head rotated in odd angles, while Father Thomas was chanting 'the power of Christ compels you' in a corner. That’s not how it happens in real life, he reminded himself, it is just a silly movie. Yet he couldn’t shake the apprehension he felt for the upcoming rituals, whatever they were. Surely it wouldn’t be painless or easy to rid him of the Devil, otherwise Father Thomas would already have done it, wouldn’t he?

“Ok,” Harry peeped eventually.

He would think about being gay once he’d settled down a bit. It seemed the least of his worries.

“That is everything for tonight; I will let you know when our next meeting is. It is easiest to meet during the evenings, while everyone else is reading and praying quietly. You will need to finish your homework during the day. Can you do that, Harry?”

“Yes, Father.”

The tall priest got up, unlocked the door and ruffled Harry’s hair when he walked past him.

“Goodnight, Harry.” 

“Goodnight, Father Thomas.”