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.