This story shouldn't be read by non-catholic readers because you might get a wrong picture about the church. It also shouldn't be read by Catholics who are unable to make fun of themselves.
I moved the pope's death by 6 years to fit with the time-line of Harry Potter books. This fanfiction can be considered as Post-Ootp but I won't go into detail about what happened since the fifth book since it would be mainly rehashing.
The year was 1999. Cardinal Peter Gruber half-kneeled by the pope's bed. The pope weakly grasped the cardinal's hand and whispered, "My friend. It's good to see you."
"I'm glad you are strong enough to accept a visit. I hope you'll get better soon." replied Gruber.
The pope chuckled and then said, "I will. I definitely will for I'll be with our Lord. At least, I hope so."
When Gruber said nothing, the pope stated, "We both know that I'm dying."
"I know. But it's hard to accept." replied Gruber and he sounded sincere but the dying pope saw through it.
Nevertheless, he continued, "I know the preferences of the other cardinals and I'm confident that you will be my successor."
"I think it's premature to talk about such things."
"On the contrary. I think it's a high time."
The pope caughed a bit and then ho got a little more serious. He said, "I know that I've made some decisions that weren't exactly to your liking and that many cardinals share your opinion. Especially when... you know what is concerned. I don't deny that this is a war. But listen to me, if you decide to get involved, remember one thing: the more you push, the worse the situation will turn. A wide scale attack would surely unite them all against the common enemy. And even subtle meddling could make them hostile towards us."
Gruber snorted and then asked, "So you advise me to do nothing?"
"I don't know what to advise since I don't know what is the future going to bring. But I advise you to be wise and patient when dealing with them. You must not repeat the mistakes and crimes of our predecessors. You must remember that not all of them are bad. There are many good people among them."
The pope continued in similar intentions for a little while longer. The cardinal stared at him, more and more disgusted by his every word. That was supposed to be the pope of the holy church? What he was saying sounded like words of a heretic and traitor!
Finally the pope clutched Gruber's hand a little stronger and told him, "Promise me. Promise me that you won't start a war with them. It's my dying wish."
Gruber looked in his pleading eyes. The whole thing was so pathetic. He sighed and then said, "Don't worry. I shall honor your politics."
After a while, the cardinal left. He had to talk to a few more cardinals and secure their votes.
In a church on the outskirts of Rome, deacon Marco Rua stood up. He was less then thirty years old and he was an athletically built man. He almost looked like a soldier and not like a clerk. He invoked an impression of an energetic and tough man.
He turned to father Matteo Cafasso. The priest was about fifty years old. His belly was slightly rounded and his head was balding. His face radiated kindness.
Marco slightly bowed his head and asked for the blessing to read from the evangel. When he received it, he walked to the opposite side of the presbytery. He turned to the right page, adjusted the microphone and cleared his throat. Then he read. It was the passage where Jesus was brought to Pilate.
When he finished, the priest took his place. Matteo Cafasso readjusted the microphone, briefly scanned his audience and then started, "Today, we've read about Pilate. I'm confident that this is one of the passages that all of you know like the Lord's prayer."
A few people chuckled and Matteo Cafasso continued, "However, do we understand everything that is said in there? Today, I would like to talk about power. When I look at this passage, I can't not to be amazed by how actual these old words are today."
The priest continued with his homily. He talked about power, its usage and the responsibility it brings. But the people in the church were slightly disconcerted. Usually when Matteo Cafasso preached, he was very lively. He usually watched the people and his eyes romped among them to hold their attention. He usually wildly gesticulated and richly intoned. But not this time. This time, it was as if he talked to himself. He stood there without moving and stared in the air. Then he finished and the mass continued.
"What was that about? It seemed like your homily wasn't addressed to the audience at all." said Marco in the sacristy when the altar boys left.
"You are right."
"So, who was it for? Wizards?"
Matteo laughed and replied, "Have you seen any wizards in here today?"
"No."
"Then it wasn't for them. No my friend, it was meant for the two of us."
"Oh. I see."
They continued to pack up the things from the mass and Matteo asked, "So, how were the drills?"
"Oh, don't even ask. My whole body is still aching. I have to admire all those soldiers who can do this for their whole life." Matteo chuckeld and Marco continued, "But it was also very interesting. A lot of things changed during that short time that passed since the last time. I'm talking about the technologies used in modern armies and such."
When they finished packing up, Matteo said, "About what we talked about earlier."
"Yes?"
"Could you pray with me?"
"Well, yes, sure."
They reached Matteo's chamber. Matteo put a cross on the table and then lit a candle. Both men kneeled and started to pray.
They began with a few psalms followed by five minutes of silence. Finally, Matteo began the actual prayer, "Dear Lord, dark times lie before us. I am confident that we shall be called to arms soon and I shall wield your might once again. I don't know why you bestowed your great power to the two of us but I reckon that you had a reason. It was an expression of great confidence from you and I'll promise that I will do my best not to betray it."
Marco used Matteo's pause and added, "And I promise the same."
Matteo continued, "To be honest, I have no idea what would be the best course of action in the matter of wizards. My promise of loyalty to your church dictates me to rely on the wisdom of my superiors who see the big picture. But lately, I don't know if I should any more. A cloud of schemes and politics is settling on your church and soon, we won't be able to trust it any more than any other political entity."
Marco raised an eyebrow as he heard those bold words. Matteo continued, "So I ask for this. If I ever sway from your way, if there is ever a threat of misuse of your powers from my side, remove them from me at that moment. And please, treat similarly all my brothers."
At those last words, Marco raised his eyebrow even more.
When they finished, Marco said, "Whoa! Some centuries ago, they would burn you on a pyre."
"Luckily those times are gone." replied Matteo and then stiffened. After a moment, he added, "At least I hope so."
Marco then continued, "And by the way, I don't think it works that way."
"What?"
"The final section of your prayer. At first: God doesn't exist in time as we do. So when he chose us, he saw our entire future - as much as it opposes the theory of uncertainty."
"I don't think it's that simple."
"At second: it requires a conscious violation of the rules to be stripped of our powers. I don't know if you can ask God to treat you otherwise but you certainly can't decide such things for others."
"So a psychopath (who doesn't realize what's he doing) wielding a weapon should be allowed to keep it?" opposed Matteo again.
"At third: I don't think that God's criteria are very strict. I know for a fact that there are others who aren't as wise and good as you are and they are still gifted."
Marco watched Matteo for a while and then continued, "And frankly, I don't think that God is going to remove our powers. He let the wizards to keep theirs even when they are virtually contesting in abusing them. I think that we are something as a counterweight."
Matteo sighed and then replied, "Marco. Why do you think that they were given anything? What if their powers are natural to them? Electric eel can stun its prey by electricity. And nobody says that it has some unnatural powers. What if wizards are simply a different species? Or some kind of a new branch of humanity? When I use my powers, I can feel that they are not mine. Do wizards feel the same? I don't know."
But Marco pressed further, "But how do you explain that through their spells, they can emit more energy then their bodies, minds or anything else can produce? And their technology? Where does it take energy from, heh?"
"I really don't know, I'm not a wizard. Maybe from the magnetic field of Earth?"
Marco's and Matteo's discussions were sometimes heated. But they were loyal friends and brothers in arms. They would die for each other.
Several weeks later, just as he predicted, Matteo found himself in the office of a bishop who was his superior.
"Sit down Cafasso." said the bishop.
Matteo did so and waited. The bishop watched him for a while and when Matteo didn't say anything, the bishop said, "You probably already suspect why are you here."
"Well, I might have an idea."
The bishop leaned back and then asked, "What do you know about the situation in Britain?"
"Well, it's a war-zone. But you have to excuse me, we were making a new football field in our parish so I didn't have much time to keep a track of recent political developments."
The bishop almost gnashed his teeth. Was that idiot Cafasso joking? His tone was so sincere that bishop really didn't know. He quickly filled him in. Matteo faked horror but the truth was that he wasn't told anything new. Correction: he learned what was the official version of his superiors.
Then the bishop said, "The holy church of our Lord can't be idle in times like these."
"So, what's the holy church going to do?" asked Matteo.
"That will be decided as the first thing after the elections. But before that, we need to conduct a preliminary reckon."
The bishop took a folder from his desk and gave it to Matteo.
"You are one of our most powerful priests, though only God himself knows why. I don't know if it's the best choice but it's you who we are sending to England."
"Is Marco Rua going with me?"
"That promising... well, paladin?" The bishop shuddered a bit as he said that sentence. Not only he despised the connotation of the word with the fantasy genre but he also didn't like Marco's friendship with Matteo. Then he answered, "Yes, he will accompany you. He and two more priests and two more... paladins."
Matteo raised an eyebrow. That was quite a force for a recon team. He asked, "I suppose I will lead them?"
"No, not exactly. You don't have the required qualities for that. You shall coordinate activities of the six of you since you know more then any of them about your stuff. But father Malvolio Rattazzi will have the highest command."
"Rattazzi... Rattazzi..." repeated Matteo because that name didn't ring a bell to him.
"He is from the political department."
"Excuse me?"
"Yes. He shall monitor everything and make decisions. Also, our forces in England are quite thin and priests of the Anglican church don't have our project. Hence, Rattazzi will also make contact with the English prime minister and secure the support of the local army."
"OK." said Matteo. "Anybody else?"
"Yes. The thirteenth anti-wizard platoon shall accompany you."
Matteo was a bit surprised to hear the number, this time for real. He asked, "Excuse me, did you say thirteenth? I thought that Vatican had only ten platoons of... support troops."
The bishop was a little annoyed. Why was this Cafasso being sent there when he even wasn't told about the ongoing expansion of the anti-wizard project?
"Did you thought that we would suffice with ten in times like these?" asked the bishop and continued, "They will cover your back if the need arises. They will be led by their lieutenant in combat but they will answer directly to father Rattazzi."
The bishop stood up and asked, "Do you have any questions?"
Matteo wanted to ask, "Are we allowed to find a peaceful solution or was it already decided that this is going to be an all out war?" but he stayed silent.
"Very well. All the details are in the folder. Good luck." said the bishop.
Then the bishop ushered Matteo out of the room. He closed the door, rolled his eyes and sighed. He thought that the church would be much better without people like Cafasso among them. But on the other hand, it was much better to send somebody like Cafasso in a meat-mincer.
A secretary ushered father Malvolio Rattazzi and another priest in the prime minister's office.
They entered and exchanged greetings. The minister looked all right at the first glance but both priests soon noticed that something was off.
When the pleasantries were exchanged, Rattazzi asked, "We have come in the matter of... the special terrorists in your country. How much do you know about the situation?"
"Special terrorists?" repeated the minister absent-mindedly.
Rattazzi looked at his companion who told him, "There is some kind of a curse on him that prevents him from speaking about it or acting on it."
"Can you lift it?"
"I'll try."
Rattazzi then turned back to the minister, "Be still for a minute."
The minister's eyes widened. Did they know? Did they say something about removing of his mental block?
The other priest took out the cross he wore around his neck and started to pray, with his hand aimed at the minister. Cafasso would lift the curse in a few seconds but this other priest wasn't so skilled. Rattazzi didn't want Cafasso anywhere near the prime minister.
Finally, the procedure was complete. The minister heaved a sigh and leaned on his desk. The priest rushed to him and asked him if he was all right. Then he advised him to order some drink with sugar for himself.
When the minister was feeling better, he asked, "What was that? I wasn't even able to... to do or say anything. Even when the reports about it were streaming to me from the whole country! I couldn't say anything about..."
"Yes, wizards, sorcerers, the art practitioners. Don't be afraid to say that, your tongue is free now. And we certainly won't think that you are mad. And to answer your question, it was nothing else then another demonstration of the dark power of the devil." answered Rattazzi and took a cross enchanted by Cafasso from his pocket. "Wear this and it won't happen again. It's blessed to protect you."
"To a certain limit. For as long as you wear it. And for as you don't disrupt it with your disbelief in such trinkets." added the other priest. Rattazzi glared at him.
"Who are you people?" asked the minister.
"You already know. I'm father Malvolio Rattazzi and I speak on behalf of Vatican."
"Yes, I know that. But how do you know about them and how did you fix me?"
"Dear minister, we are the holy church of our Lord and some of us thus bear his power. We aren't here only to ensure the salvation of the human kind but also it's protection. Protection from... them."
"Excuse me." cut in the other priest. "How did this happen to you? You weren't protected?"
"I was. At first." replied the minister. "There was this... Kingsley. He was my bodyguard. But then he said that they were after him and abandoned me. The other side came shortly after that."
"That happens when you trust wizards. Let me ask you one more time, how much do you know about what's happening?" asked Rattazzi and eagerly awaited the minister's response. His level of ignorance would be equal to the level of his hold over him.
"Well, I guess that the Ministry of Magic fell."
"Fell? It was taken over by the Death Eaters. If there is possible to talk about any taking over at all. Don't you realize that their entire society would rather see us all dead? It's like in Nazi Germany - Hitler was only one man, just like Voldemort is. He wouldn't be able to succeed if the whole wizarding society wasn't evil!"
The other priest felt a slight twinge of magic as Rattazzi said the jinxed name and dissolved it. Cafasso was already working on a more permanent solution.
"But what about the resistance? That Kingsley seemed to be a good chap." asked the prime minister.
"Resistance? There is no resistance. Only some people who have personal quarrels with Voldemort or his Death Eaters. But those loose ends have been tied and so, thanks to the inactivity of our last pope, we missed a great opportunity to attack. Because now, they shall turn against us in earnest. I mean, against you at first. The rest of the world shall follow soon."
The minister contemplated Rattazzi's words and then asked, "And you can actually counter their magic?"
"Well, not me personally but my subordinate here and others, they can."
"How can I help?"
"Well, you can start by what you should have done ages ago - call for an emergency meeting of the High Command."