Summary: et cognoscetis veritatem, et veritas liberabit vos.
“And you shall know the truth, and the truth will set you free” - John 8:32
Nathaniel Benn has always served peacefully as a friar in his small English village. But when an innocent Muggle is accused of witchcraft, Nathaniel is thrust into confrontation with a zealous Inquisitor and apathetic Wizards. As the situation worsens, Nathaniel must decide whether he will watch innocents burn or risk his life to tell the Church the truth about witchcraft.
Overrall winner in the Autumn Challenge!
Categories: Historical Characters: None
Warnings: Character Death, Violence
Challenges: Series: None
Chapters: 3
Completed: Yes
Word count: 5526
Read: 7222
Published: 10/02/07
Updated: 11/01/07
1. Accusations by Gonz
2. Decisions by Gonz
3. In His Hands by Gonz
Author's Notes:
Thanks to the wonderful LucillaJoanna for being my Beta.
“Father! Father!” yelled a young boy, racing across the churchyard.
“Easy, my child,” said Nathaniel Benn, smiling. “I can hear you quite well. Tell me what’s wrong?’
“It’s Old Maid Ethel. They say she’s a witch!”
“Ethel?”
“Yes, Father.” The boy frowned as he continued speaking, “I thought the only wizards around here were us and…”
“Russell!”
“Don’t worry, Father. There’s no one around.”
Nathaniel glanced around nervously before replying, “Yes, Ethel is a Muggle.”
“That’s what I thought, but Henry Stonehill went down to the inn and told half the town that Ethel is a witch. Mr. Stonehill says that they should burn her.”
Burn her! Nathaniel couldn’t believe it. He heard rumors of witch burnings across the countryside, but he had never imagined that such thing would come to his little village.
“Russell, listen to me,” Nathaniel ordered. “I want you to go home, straight home. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Father.”
“Then I want you to tell your father what you told me. He’ll know what to do. Go!”
Nathaniel watched as Russell took off running toward his home. At least, the boy would be out of trouble, Henry Stonehill on the other hand… Nathaniel shook his head, as a friar, he really shouldn’t be thinking those thoughts.
Brushing the dirt off of his cowl, Nathaniel started down the dirt road. The church, an inn, and six wooden houses lined the main road. Another twenty families lived in farms west of the village, four of which were Wizarding. Nathaniel lived in a cottage behind the church with William, a Squib, who served as the village’s gravedigger. The mix of Muggle and Wizarding families was what called Nathaniel to this place, to serve as a priest in addition to his own vows as a monk. Not that the work had been easy, most Wizards distrusted the Church and very few attended Mass.
As he walked, the houses gave way to a forest where Nathaniel kept his eyes open for a barely discernable dirt path which led to Ethel’s cottage. But there was no need for his attention, it would have been impossible not to miss the crowd of villagers that lined the path. As he worked his way through the crowd, he heard voices up ahead.
“I’m not a witch! I’m not a witch!”
“Remove your curse from my son!”
Pushing his way to the front, Nathaniel yelled, “Stop!”
The tall form of Henry Stonehill, who had been towering over Ethel Rosewood, turned to him. “Father Benn,” he said politely. “I have found a witch.”
“What proof do you have of this?”
“My son is sick, and I know why. It is this witch’s revenge for never having a husband or children of her own.”
As furious as he was at Henry for stirring up this trouble, Nathaniel’s heart went out to the man. His first three children had all died in infancy, and it looked like his youngest would join them. He could see how Henry had arrived at this conclusion, and he knew that he would have to tread carefully.
“I will investigate this,” Nathaniel said.
“You will investigate this?” Henry asked.
“Yes, it is my duty as a servant of Christ to insure that the devil does no harm here.”
Henry looked at him strangely. “What more do you need to investigate? She is a witch”
“Henry you’ve had a little too much to drink. Why don’t you go home and see what your wife has made you for dinner. I’ll handle Ethel Rosewood.”
“I will not wait while my son is dying. If you’re going to do something, do it now.”
Nathaniel sighed in frustration. He had no idea how he could convince Henry that Ethel wasn’t a witch without revealing the truth, which would only make things worse. Studying Ethel, it was clear she thought he was about to condemn him. “Stand,” he ordered.
Timidly, Ethel rose to her feet. Lord, help me save this woman, he prayed. Then his prayer gave him the answer he need. Nathaniel looked at Ethel and said, “Recite the Lord’s Prayer.”
Ethel stared at him fearfully, but didn’t speak.
“She can’t do it. Do you have you proof now, Father?” Henry taunted.
“Patience, give her some time,” Nathaniel replied, biting his lip nervously. He knew Ethel could say the prayer; he had heard her recite it many times.
Slowly, tentatively, she began speaking in a whisper. “Our Father, who art in heaven…”
“Speak up!” called a voice from the crowd.
“Hallowed be thy name.” Her voice was rising, becoming stronger as she continued, “Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against us. Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”
Smiling, Nathaniel raised his hand to make the sign of the cross. “Ethel Rosewood, I bless you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen”
Nathaniel turned and addressed the crowd. “No witch can say those words. No witch would be able to stand there can receive a blessing. Ethel Rosewood is not a witch.”
Quietly, the crowd began to disperse, but Nathaniel had eyes only for one man. Henry looked around and knew that he had lost his case. He said as he left, “Father, for my son’s sake, I hope you are right.”
Allowing himself a sigh of relief, Nathaniel, too, began walking back down the path when a voice congratulated him. “Good work.”
Nathaniel looked into the kind blue eyes of the man who called out. “Aldwin.”
“Russell told me what was going on. Thank you for sending him home.”
“It isn’t good for a boy who doesn’t know how to control his magic to be out when the Muggles are seeing witches.”
“Gertrude’s worried. How we are going to be able to keep Russell away from the village until he leaves for Hogwarts, I don’t know.”
“Don’t worry. This should be the last talk we hear of witchcraft.”
It should have been the last they heard of witchcraft, but that all changed the night Nathaniel Benn was called on to do the Final Rites for Robert Stonehill.
Nathaniel watched as the little boy breathed his last. He spoke and tried to console the parents, but Henry was inconsolable. “Do you believe me yet, Father Benn?” Henry spat. “My fourth child sent to the grave. I will never see a child survive while that witch lives. My son is dead because that witch didn’t burn.”
Turning, Henry stormed out the door. Nathaniel called after him, “Henry…”
But when Nathaniel stepped out into the night’s air he saw Henry’s form galloping off on a horse into the horizon.
Edith Stonehill came and stood beside him, watching her husband ride off. “She’s going to burn.”
“Excuse me?” Nathaniel asked.
“Henry swore that if Robert died, he would go to the Inquisition.”
Oh, God.
“Are you sure?” Nathaniel whispered.
“Yes.”
“Thank you.” With those words, Nathaniel started home. As he approached the churchyard, he saw a flickering of light inside his cottage. Thanking God that William was still awake, he burst through the door calling, “William!”
“You don’t have to shout so loud, Father.”
“Go wake Aldwin. Tell him to gather the community.”
“What’s happening?”
“Henry’s sending for the Inquisition.”
Willaim’s face went white, and without another word set out on his task.
Within the next hour, five wizards and one Squib were gathered around Nathaniel’s table. “What are we going to do?” one asked.
“Stay out of their way. The Inquisition can’t harm us,” replied another.
Nathaniel interjected, “What if they condemn Ethel to death? She can’t save herself. I don’t know the spell, but some of you do.”
A wizard named Rufus answered, “And give the Muggles proof of our existence? I say that if they want to burn Ethel, we let them. The whole mess will quickly blow over.”
“What if we did save her?” someone asked. “What’s to stop her from telling the Inquisition about us?”
“I will not risk my life to save a Muggle,” stated another.
Nathaniel looked at Aldwin, his eyes pleading. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing from his fellow wizards.
Aldwin looked apologetic as he said, “I have family. It may be a sin, but I rather see Ethel burn than my son.”
The rest of the wizards nodded their agreement. They had agreed, they would wait and do nothing. They would let a Muggle burn.
Two days later Henry Stonehill rode back into town with an Inquisitor at his heels. Ethel was arrested, tried, and condemned to death. Three days later she burned. Still the Wizarding Community did nothing.
The night after Ethel burned, Nathaniel couldn’t sleep. “Damn you, Satan. I curse you. I curse you!
“How dare you turn into such coward? Making me stand silently while an innocent woman burns! Making my ears deaf to her cries!
“Curse you! Curse you!”
Nathaniel sunk to the ground weeping. “Oh, God,” he cried, “what have I become?”
Author's Notes:
Thanks again to LucillaJoanna for being a great Beta!
For three days Nathaniel stayed in that little prayer room, fasting and praying, hoping that God would forgive his sin. Nathaniel wasn’t sure how God could ever forgive him since he doubted that he would ever be able to forgive himself. The blood of an innocent woman was on his hands.
Pounding on the door broke his reverie, but Nathaniel remained silent. He heard creaking, and a shaft of light pierced the darkness in the room as the door opened.
“Get up,” a voice ordered. “Father Benn, you have to get up.”
Nathaniel turned and looked into the face of William, whose eyes pleadingly looked into his own. “Harold and Elizabeth Mason were arrested yesterday,” William continued. “Ruby Hartfield this morning. The Inquisitor hasn’t left. I fear that he is just getting started.”
“Harold and Elizabeth Mason?” asked Nathaniel, speaking aloud for the first time in days.
“Yes,” William answered.
“Ruby Hartfield?”
“Yes.”
“All on charges of withcraft?”
“Yes.”
“Dear Lord, what is happening in our world?”
“You’ll never know if you stay in this room.”
“William…Thank you.”
“I made us breakfast.”
“Later. First I need to have a talk with the Inquisitor.”
William nodded as if he had known what his answer would be all along. But Nathaniel was not surprised. William seemed to know him better than he knew himself. It had been a blessing the day William had appeared at his door looking for work, and even a greater one when each of them realised that one was a wizard and the other a Squib.
Nathaniel approached the local gaol, which the Inquisitor had been using as his headquarters, and knocked. One of the locals opened the door.
“Could the Inquisitor spare a moment of his time?” asked Nathaniel confidently.
The man gestured Nathaniel inside, and had him wait in the entrance way, while he disappeared into a side room.
Nathaniel didn’t have to wait long before the man returned and announced, “Inquisitor Borden will see you now.”
Nodding his acknowledgement, Nathaniel stepped into the room. It was a simple room, filled almost entirely by a large desk covered in papers. Behind the desk sat a man that Nathaniel would have known was the Inquisitor even without being told. He sat upright and bespoke of authority and confidence. He was a man who had the power to determine life or death and he knew it.
Deciding to precede cautiously, Nathaniel said politely, “Inquisitor Borden.”
“Yes, Father Benn.”
“I heard you arrested Harold and Elizabeth Mason, and Ruby Hartfield.”
“You heard correctly.”
“Sir, I know they are innocent of these charges. They are all God-fearing men and women. They are not witches.”
Borden sighed and stated sternly, “You are a friar of the Augustinian Order. Your training is that of a monk and a priest, not witchcraft. I am well acquainted with the devil’s work, you are not.”
If only you knew.
Nathaniel lied, “I am well aware that I have not had the training, but Harold and Elizabeth are two of the most pious people I know; they regularly contribute to the good work of the Lord. Ruby…”
“Enough,” Borden ordered. “I was not sent to here listen to your mutterings. The Archbishop sent me to free this village from the devil’s grasp. It would not be wise to stand in my way.” Borden’s eyes looked cold as he stared into Nathaniel’s own. “Have I made myself clear?”
Nathaniel gritted his teeth as he answered, “Yes, Inquisitor.”
“Leave me.”
Nathaniel quickly bowed and left the room. The conversation had made a couple things very clear: Rufus was wrong about this mess quickly blowing over, and that Borden had the authority to go over his head. Exiting the building, Nathaniel headed back to the church.
William met him outside. “How did it go?”
“I was lectured. Apparently, I don’t know anything about witchcraft.”
William smiled and lowered his voice. “It’s a good thing you don’t really know anything.”
“As least as far as the Church knows, and it has to stay that way.”
Grabbing his arm, William stopped him and asked, “Then why are you part of the Church when they hate us so much?”
Nathaniel answered with a question of his own. “Why do you associate with wizards, when most treat you way they do?”
William looked pensive as he replied, “There’s no simple answer is there?”
“No,” Nathaniel agreed.
“What are we going to do next?”
“Did you talk to the wizards?”
“Yes, and they’re determined to wait this through.”
“Three more people, William. How many lives are worth that of a wizard’s?”
“What should we do, Father?”
“Pray. Other than that, I don’t know.”
“You’ve prayed for past three days. Did it make any difference?” Nathaniel looked curiously at William; no one had ever asked him that before.
William, however, looked abashed. “Sorry, Father. I spoke out of turn.”
“You never have to apologize to me, William. Do you think that just because I am a friar I never doubt?”
William didn’t answer, but before the silence became uncomfortable, they were distracted by a boy running past. When the boy paused to catch his breathe, Nathaniel recognized him and called out. “Peter.”
The boy turned and ran over. Peter looked worried and his face was flushed from running. When he opened his month the words tumbled out between short gasps for air, “Father, we didn’t...we did the right…Edwin said so.”
Nathaniel placed a gentle hand on the boy’s shoulder. “Peter, breathe deeply. Now tell me what happened.”
After a couple of deep breaths, Peter said, “We went down to the creek, and a boy was there. I think Edwin spooked him. He jumped up, disappeared, and then was on top of a tree. Edwin said he was a witch, and that I should go get the Inquisitor. As I left, I saw Edwin pick up a rock and I heard screaming. So I ran as fast as I could.
“Did I do something wrong, Father?”
Nathaniel stood in shock as he tried to think of something to say, but William was already moving. He was running off towards the creek. Giving the boy’s shoulder a comforting squeeze, Nathaniel took off after him.
As he ran, gasping for air, Nathaniel cursed himself for being so slow; the village fed him way too well. It seemed like an eternity before he reached the creek. When he did, Nathaniel saw a group of older boys clustered around a body. William, who was kneeling by the body, looked up at his approach, tears following down his cheeks.
Nathaniel gasped as he recognized the body. It was Russell, a boy too young to control his magic, lying dead on the ground. His heart stopped as he cried out softly. “May God save us all.”
“And indeed he will, Father Benn,” declared a voice behind him. Nathaniel turned to see Borden dismounting his horse. “With the help of God, we will soon free this village from the devil’s grasp.”
Nathaniel turned and demanded, “What God demands the murder of an eleven year-old boy?”
“Not a boy, a witch!” yelled Edwin, one of the older boys standing around the body. “We saw him by the creek, muttering some witch stuff and chased after him. Then he disappeared, and we saw him sitting on top of a tree.”
Borden nodded, and said, “Good work, boy. You have removed a servant of the devil from our midst.
Borden’s praise burned in his ears, but Nathaniel knew there was nothing he could say, the deed had been done and the boys would be honored for it. Nathaniel caught William’s eye and saw his friend’s jaw clenched and hands balled into fists.
We can’t do anything now, Nathaniel pleaded with his eyes.
William’s hands unclenched and slowly rose. Borden noticing the movement addressed him, “You, Gravedigger. Burn the body.”
Nathaniel thought for sure that William was going to hit Borden, and thanked God that William managed to keep his temper and simply answered, “No.”
“The Church commands that the body be burned so that his soul can no longer torment those on Earth,” Borden replied.
William was steadfast. “He will be buried in the churchyard where he belongs.”
Borden voice rose. “Do you dare defy the word of God to honor the devil’s servant?”
“The only servant of the devil I see is you,” William spat.
Borden stormed toward William, his face was red in anger. William raised his arm to block a blow that never came. Nathaniel watched in horror as William’s sleeve fell down to his elbow, as Borden’s eyes flickered to a small red mark on the inside of William’s arm, as William saw the smile forming on Borden’s face and hastily put his arm down. Nathaniel knew in his heart what was coming, the instant before it did.
“What is that?” Borden demanded.
“What?” asked William, trying and failing to look confused.
“That mark on your arm. The touch of the devil leaves marks behind on his servants.” Borden smiled as William’s face lost all color. “Was that where the devil held your arm as you pledged his soul to him?”
“No!” Nathaniel ran and placed himself between the two men. “Inquisitor, please listen to me. William is faithful servant of Christ. He has served the Church and this village tirelessly for the past ten years.”
“Get out of my way, friar,” Borden said with contempt, pushing Nathaniel to the ground.
Nathaniel grabbed Borden’s robe and pleaded, “Don’t condemn a man for a comment made in anger.”
Borden ignored him and ordered the crowd to arrest William. Nathaniel’s fingers slipped as Borden walked swiftly back to horse and mounted. After only some of the men who had followed him tied Williams hands and picked up Russell’s body did he address Nathaniel. “Father Benn, with the passion in which you defend these witches one might believe that you are in league with them. I suggest you return to the church and stay there until this affair is over.”
With that, Borden spurred his horse into a trot and left the kneeling friar behind him in the dirt. Nathaniel shook and was barely aware of the others leaving.
One boy remained behind. “I’m sorry, Father. I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault, Peter.”
Tears filled his eyes as he watched the boy walk home. He had told him the truth, it wasn’t Peter’s fault Russell was dead, it was his own. He should have stopped this while he had the chance. Now, Russell was dead and William was certain to be condemned. Nathaniel knew without asking that the wizards would continue to do nothing; William was only a Squib. As Nathaniel remained kneeling on the ground, guilt threatened to overwhelm him.
The death of two people was on his hands now, two of his flock. As a friar it was his duty to be a shepherd to the flock of Christ’s followers and he had failed. Now that four more sheep were being led to slaughter, could he continue to sit back and watch the wolves devour them? Christ, the ultimate Shepherd didn’t. He gave his life so that none of his sheep would ever die. Nathaniel had pledged to live a life worthy of Christ, but he was never more ashamed than he was now to call himself Christian.
But what could he do?
As Nathaniel contemplated that question he heard a man stumble into the clearing. The man asked, “Is this were it happened?”
“Aldwin,” Nathaniel said as he stood and embraced him. Aldwin broke down into tears as he held him.
“I was a fool,” Aldwin declared.
“This isn’t your fault.”
“My son. They killed my only son. Is this God’s punishment for my sin, Father?”
“Never.”
Aldwin pulled back as he continued, “He was so excited. He couldn’t wait to start Hogwarts. He wanted to be Hufflepuff, just like you. He believed so strongly in what you said. He had such a strong faith. Does God have a place in heaven for a wizard?”
“God does not forget any of his children.”
“Then why does he let his Church treat us so?”
“There are some questions of which we will never….” Nathaniel stopped mid-sentence. He had been about to say, know the answer, when the answer hit him.
The answer was obvious.
“They believe the only way someone can have magic is through a pact with the devil. They don’t know that magic is a gift from God. They don’t know because we never told them.
“The Wizarding World is so afraid about letting Muggles know of our existence. But by remaining silent we are bringing about the prosecution we fear.”
“What are you saying?”
“We have been silent for too long. I will not remain silent any longer.”
Aldwin protested. “Father, you’re mad. They’ll kill you!”
“That may be so, but we all must die sometime.”
“Gertrude and I are leaving. We refused stay in this village any longer,” Aldwin announced. Then looking at Nathaniel he pleaded, “Come with us, Father. There is nothing left for us here.”
“My flock is here, and four face death. I will not run, Aldwin. My loyalty remains with them.”
Aldwin looked dejected as he said, “I guess this is goodbye.”
“Never,” Nathaniel whispered. “We will meet again, whether in this world or the next.”
“Go with God, Father. May He protect you from this madness.”
Nathaniel nodded and watched as Aldwin slowly walked back down the road. Nathaniel didn’t know what would happen next; he wasn’t even confident that he would survive. He just knew that he had to try. What would happen afterward was in God’s hands.
The time of waiting, the time of hiding, and the time of lies was finally over. It was now time for action.
Nathaniel Benn stood before a locked door after having sent two guards to sleep. The door was made of thick strong wood and was firmly shut with a metal lock, but that was no problem. Nathaniel lovely fingered his wand before drawing it. “Alohommora!” he said.
As the lock clicked, Nathaniel smiled to himself. He hadn’t realised just how much he missed using magic.
Nathaniel slowly opened the door, flinching as the hinges creaked. His eyes took several moments to adjust to the darkness, but his nose immediately told him that he was in the right place; the room reeked human odor and waste. When he could see, he saw four human figures chained along the walls.
Moving quickly, Nathaniel approached the closest. A man’s head looked and cried out, “Father!”
“Shh,” Nathaniel answered. Whispering the spell, he unlocked the man’s chains.
As the man pulled his hands free, he looked up at Nathaniel in shock. “What?” he asked, staring at Nathaniel’s wand.
“Quiet, Harold.” Nathaniel ordered. “I’ll explain later.”
Nathaniel moved on to William, who smiled and said, “I wondered how long it would before you decided to break in here.”
“Can you keep the Muggles calm?” Nathaniel asked in a low voice.
William nodded, and in few moments the five of them were clustered silently by the door. Harold was still staring suspiciously at Nathaniel’s wand, but the Muggles had not commented on the fact that Nathaniel could use magic. They all silently followed him out into the night air. Once they were away from the village, Harold declared, “You’re a witch!”
Nathaniel smiled. “No, I’m a wizard.”
“Is there a difference?”
“I assure you there is. I may be able to use magic, but I am definitely a male and therefore a wizard.”
“But you’re a priest?”
“Yes I am, but the church is not aware of the fact that I can use magic.” Nathaniel seeing the doubt on Harold’s face continued, “The truth is that magic is not by nature evil. It is something some people can do and others can’t.”
“But the Inquisitor…”
“Knows nothing of true witchcraft. That’s why I couldn’t leave you in your cell.”
Ruby spoke up for the first time that evening. “But what about Ethel?”
Nathaniel’s face grew dark as he confessed, “I committed a grave sin, and Ethel paid the price.”
When no one answered, Nathaniel gestured at two horses and several packs tied to a nearby tree. Nathaniel said, “It’s not safe for you to stay here. Stay off the road and travel through the forest. It would best to head for a bigger town or city a good distance from here.”
Nathaniel had expected complaints, that he would have to convince them to leave their homes, but Harold and William helped the two women onto the horses and adjusted the packs without a word. As they began to leave, William stopped and asked, “Why are you standing there, Father? It is time to go.”
“I’m not coming with you.”
“Don’t speak such foolery. You can’t stay.”
“I must stay.”
“No, Nathaniel. Borden will know you helped us.”
“I know, but I can not let him accuse anyone in our village, or another, of witchcraft.”
“I know what your thinking, but it won’t work. Leave this place,” William implored. “There is nothing left for you there.”
“There is always work of the Lord to be done.”
“God would not ask you to stay behind and be killed.”
“He asked Christ.”
“William, do you remember what Christ prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane that night before he died? He prayed that God’s will, not his, be done. I will do the same. I place my fate in His hands. Goodbye, William.”
Turning, Nathaniel walked out of the forest and back into the village. He had to trust that William would head his words, and that God would watch over them.
Nathaniel was able to conduct morning Mass as normal. How he managed to make it through the service without his fear or nerves showing to the congregation, Nathaniel would never know. It wasn’t long after the last parishioner had left that he heard footsteps in the church again.
When Nathaniel walked over to meet him, Borden began without preamble. “Where are they?”
“Excuse me?” Nathaniel asked.
“Father Benn, do not act the fool. Where are they?”
“There are many people in this village, Inquisitor.”
Borden gritted his teeth and was clenching his hands into fist. “I am running short on time. Do you have anything to tell me about the disappearance of the four witches from goal?”
“I admit I have a confession to make.”
“So you admit that you are responsible for the disappearances?”
“I have no need to confess that. I committed no sin in freeing innocent men and women. No, my confession involves something more relevant to your presence here.”
“Speak. My patience is wearing thin.”
“I confess that I have lied and deceived the Church and those around me. I have not been honest with my superiors or my parishioners, and that I have let this sin interfere with my proper duties.
“Inquisitor Borden, you were sent here to look for witches. None of those whom you arrested and condemned were true witches. I can say this with confidence, because I …” Nathaniel faltered. He had always been told to never ever tell a Muggle the truth about magic.
“Because what?” Borden demanded.
“I am a wizard. I can use magic.”
“You!”
“It’s not what you think. I made no deal with the devil. I was born this ability; I can’t deny it. Magic isn’t an evil thing.”
Nathaniel pulled out his wand. “Watch,” he ordered. Pointing his wand at a hymnal, he said, “Wingardium Leviosa!”
Borden jumped back, his twisted into a mask of hatred, his eyes wide in shock and fear.
“Lumos!” With light shining from the tip of Nathaniel’s wand, he stated, “Magic is like most things in the world, it can be used for good or ill. Most witches and wizards are good people. Most of the people who you burn can not use magic.”
Nathaniel took a step forward, “I implore you, Inquisitor. Stop these senseless accusations. Let me show you the truth about magic.”
A mix of emotions flashed through Borden’s face, but his eyes remained fixed on a simple piece of wood that was now glowing with light.
Fearing that the continued sight of magic was making matters worse, Nathaniel whispered, “Nox!” Then he lowered his wand.
But either the additional spell or movement, or maybe both triggered something in Borden’s mind, and finally spoke. “Spawn of Satan!”
Nathaniel caught a flash of silver, and then felt a sharp pain in his chest. Nathaniel barely realised that he had been stabbed before he began to fall.
The world began to blur as his blood pooled on the sanctuary floor. Death didn’t hurt as much as the knowledge that he had failed. He had hoped that the Church would come to see magic not as an evil thing, but as a gift from God. But now he was out of time.
How he had wished…
Thy will be done.
If only he had one more chance.
Thy will be done.
He must trust in God.
Thy will be done.
As Nathaniel prepared to die he noticed that the world was coming into clearer focus, that he could hear the sound of Borden’s breathing, that the pain was gone.
Discovering that his hands could move, Nathaniel pushed himself off the floor and looked Borden in the eye. He would not let his man harm anyone any longer.
.
As Nathaniel thought that he found words coming from his month of their own accord. “God will always let the truth be known.”
Borden fled. Nathaniel would later learn that he ran through the town like a mad man and had galloped off, speaking to no one. But it was as Borden fled that Nathaniel looked down and saw his body still lying on the sanctuary floor.
The realisation that he was a ghost came first with regret then joy. For now he had the time he needed. He had time to the Church the truth. God had worked his will, who was he to not embrace it?
Nathaniel spent his days pondering the best way to let to let the truth be known until a journey to Rome at long last provided the results he had hoped for. No longer would the Inquisition conduct inquiries on witchcraft, and the Pope issued an Edict”known only to those who lived lives of both magic and faith”that magic was a gift from God. And that gift, when it was used in a proper Christian manner, was an acceptable practice for those of the faith.
Hearing those words made Nathaniel realise something important about himself and about how he had lived his life. He always had struggled with keeping his true self hidden. It had only been after his death that Nathaniel had begun to enjoy life.
For the truth had set him free.
Free to laugh. Free to enjoy life. Free to believe that he had lived a life worthy of Christ.
And now as he wandered the corridors of Hogwarts, no longer as Nathaniel but as the Fat Friar, he could say that he was happy.
Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters and settings are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.