Shadow of a Doubt

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Prologue

Day after day of black despair.

Such was Anders Grimalkin's life in Azkaban whilst he waited for his trial. He had been seen by a wizard lawyer twice in the whole eight months he had been there. The first time had been a reassurance that things would move swiftly, the second time had been an apology that it was taking so long to move to trial.

In the meantime, he was forced to go slowly, but surely crazy.

Eight months to the day after he was pushed, protesting vociferously into a cell, few would recognise the gaunt, pale figure who lay on the floor, curled into a protective ball, shaking so hard that the chains that restricted his movement rattled noisily. His black hair was matted and dirty, unkempt facial hair made his boyish face look older and wilder.

But those obvious physical changes were not the real difference, thought Dmitri Georgious, the lawyer who had assigned himself to be Grimalkin's defence. No. The real difference was in the man's eyes. The windows to Grimalkin's soul were filled with the terror that Azkaban instilled in every inmate.

Georgious remembered Grimalkin from the Wales/Greece match. He remembered being impressed by the slender young man who darted about the Quidditch field with such consummate grace and skill. It was hard to believe that the whimpering, pitiful wretch at his feet was the same man - but it was.

"Grimalkin." One of the non-Dementor wizards who worked at Azkaban kicked viciously at the boy, and Georgious winced. The prisoner howled and screwed himself up tighter, wailing promises to do everything he was told if only they would stop the pain, the terrible pain…

"Grimalkin! On your feet!" With what Georgious felt was unnecessary nastiness, the guard pulled the one-time Welsh Seeker to his feet. "You have a visitor."

Anders' empty gaze turned to Georgious and the other wizard was forced to look away. He had seen prisoners in Azkaban before, but nothing could ever help him come to terms with the look of a whipped dog that they all ended up with. Grimalkin looked more browbeaten than most, and also very ill - Georgious remembered noting that he had been put into medical seclusion for the past three months due to a nasty bout of pneumonia.

He nodded to the guard who scowled at Grimalkin. "He's not very cooperative," he said in a loud whisper. "If he gives you any trouble, just holler."

With that, the guard left the room, leaving Georgious alone in the company of a suspected murderer.

"Have you come to help me?" The hope in Anders' voice was almost heartbreaking and Georgious gestured to the man to sit on one of the chairs that the guard had brought in for them. Anders did so, stumbling awkwardly over his chains, and sitting down on the chair almost in amazement. It felt so long since he had sat on anything but the cold floor of the prison fortress, this was almost luxury.

In the half-light of the prison room, Georgious could see just how thin the man had become. The skin of his bare chest was so stretched across his ribs, it was a wonder how he didn't snap, so frail did he look. When he breathed, the sound rattled around in his lungs, a residual effect of the pneumonia. He had been told that six weeks ago, Grimalkin had cheated death by the narrowest of narrow margins, seeming determined not to die unless he proved his innocence.

There had been an extremely worrying moment when, following the continuing efforts of Peterssen's family, it was seriously considered that the best thing to do would be to give him the Dementor's Kiss before he died, but it had been at this point that Georgious had stepped in, unable to witness this treatment of a young man who had not even been charged yet.

"Yes, Anders, I am here to help you," said Georgious kindly, and he was ashamed to see how easily tears came to the man - no, the boy.

"I can't stay here, Sir," said the one-time Seeker, desperation in his voice. "Please, Sir. There's got to be some proof…I didn't…I'd never…I…I…"

"Quiet yourself, Anders," said Georgious, patting him gently on the arm. "I have a lot of faith that the judge at the centre of the trial will find you not guilty. But...there are many problems we must address."

"Of course he'll find me not guilty," said Anders, almost in surprise. "I didn't kill that man. I wish people would believe that I can't remember."

"I have been thinking about that," said Georgious getting to his feet and pacing the room a little. "Tell me, Anders. Do you remember your old Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore?"

The question took Anders completely by surprise, but he nodded vigorously.

"He is interested in you."

"I don't understand…"

"He has been in touch with me and declared that he wishes to fully support you as a character witness. Apparently, another member of Hogwarts' staff, Severus Snape…" He noticed the wince on Anders' face, but continued. "…was approached by the council for the prosecution and gave a testimony which apparently spoke of your regular losses of temper. However, it seems that Dumbledore would like to speak on your behalf at the trial, if you are agreeable?"

Anders could have cried, and indeed, tears leaked out from under his closed eyelids and trickled down his filthy face, leaving pale streaks. "Someone actually believes in me? Someone thinks I'm worth more than this?"

"It appears so," said Georgious. "Of course, it's early days to say anything yet, but Dumbledore is highly respected and well known for his accurate character judgments. I'd say we have a chance."

Georgious got to his feet and began to walk to the door. Anders, tears still running down his face looked at him. "Ah, yes. The thing I actually came to tell you. You won't have to wait much longer for your trial."

A look of cynicism crossed Anders' face. "Only another three, four years?" he said, uncharacteristic sarcasm entering his voice.

Georgious smiled.

"Tomorrow," he said.

* * * * *

"Anders Rhys Grimalkin."

The words echoed familiarly in his ears, but it took him a good minute and a half to realise that it was his own name. He looked up, hopefully.

"Anders Rhys Grimalkin, please step forward."

He looked a little blankly at the wizard who had accompanied him from his cell in confusion. The guard sneered slightly and gave him a 'helpful' shove. The young man staggered forward and blinked at the brightness of the circle. It was a simple effect - one that enabled the Enclave to see him, but not let him see them.

They'd allowed him the opportunity to wash and even shave, and so it was a fresh-faced young wizard who stood in the glaring circle of light, waiting to find out what his future held.

"You are Anders Rhys Grimalkin, twenty-two years old, of Ebbw Vale, Gwent, is that correct?"

"Yes," he said, confidently. His own identity was, at least, one thing that he had managed to cling onto in the sea of chaos surrounding that Quidditch match. "That's me."

"You have been summoned before the two and twenty today to answer the charge of murder. Due to apparently calculated actions, you caused the death of the Norwegian, Olaf Peterssen." Anders swallowed nervously. "The two and twenty are here to determine the verdict on that charge. How do you plead?"

"Not Guilty," said Anders without a moment's hesitation. He was, after all, innocent.

That was the easy part.

In years to come, it would be known as one of the most complicated and convoluted trials that the two and twenty had ever had to participate in. The council for the prosecution brought forward witness after witness after witness - a never-ending stream of people who had seen Anders Grimalkin apparently dive at an innocent Quidditch player in a fit of enraged temper.

And for every person who spoke, Anders felt another nail hammered into his coffin.

Dmitri Georgious sat quietly by his side, occasionally patting his client on the shoulder in an effort to bolster the young man's flagging spirits, but even that seemed to have little effect.

The council for the prosecution summed up, very eloquently.

"Judges of the council, that, in a nutshell, is the case brought against Anders Grimalkin by the family of Olaf Peterssen. A man who, true enough, was once a Death Eater..." Gasps rippled around the public gallery and Anders started in shock. He had not known that. "...but a man who reformed, who saw the error of his ways. He relaunched himself as a Quidditch player - a very good one at that. He had recently married, and had a wonderful future ahead of him. A future that Anders Grimalkin stole with no reason or explanation." The prosecuting wizard stopped in front of the chained prisoner. "In his statement taken directly following the match, Mr.. Grimalkin said..." The soft sound of Anders' voice magically filled the chamber.

"I don't know what happened out there. I don't remember anything. You must believe me when I say I didn't deliberately attack anyone."

The prosecuting wizard shook his head. "Mr.. Grimalkin, how do you expect *anyone* to believe those words when so many witnessed the event with their own eyes? You are unstable. You are a danger to not only every other person on the face of the planet, but also to yourself. We call to have you admitted to Azkaban for the full duration for your own safety. And we have proved that you are capable of the most heinous crime imaginable - that of physical murder. What is to stop you applying that cruel streak to the Dark Arts?"

"I object, your honours," said Georgious, standing. "Mr.. Grimalkin has never used a Dark Arts spell in his life. This is not an issue in this trial."

"Objection sustained," said the head judge. "Get back to the matter at hand."

"My apologies," said the prosecuting lawyer. "Council rests."

Anders stood, his head bowed, tears dripping endlessly from his haunted eyes. Georgious pursed his lips. He had complete faith in the boy's innocence. And it was that very innocence that he now had to prove.

There was a faint ripple around the chamber as Anders sank to his knees, unable to hold his emotions in any more and began to sob. The prosecuting council sneered nastily as Georgious carefully helped the young man back to his feet. "I would request a recess so Mr. Grimalkin can rest. He has been very ill and I would call on the compassion of the two and twenty to give him a chance to regain some of his strength."

"Of course," said the head judge. "Mr.. Grimalkin, please take some time to rest. You are going to need every drop of awareness for the remainder of this trial."

Anders nodded gratefully and leaned heavily on Georgious as they left the chamber, to catcalls and screams of anger from the Norwegian contingent.

"We have our work cut out here, Anders," said Georgious.

* * * * *

He sat in the recess chamber, shaking uncontrollably with cold, fever and emotion. Georgious watched him wordlessly, worry eating away at him. The boy had refused any food that he had offered, and had taken one or two sips of water. Georgious chewed on his lip thoughtfully. His original idea for helping Anders was starting to become risky if the lad didn't regain control of his faculties soon.

A knock on the door made both of them look up. "Enter," said Georgious.

Albus Dumbledore stood in the doorway, fixing Anders with his kindly gaze. "Hello, my boy," he said, softly, entering the room and closing the door. He moved towards Anders, who, out of habit borne from the months of prison life, shrank up against the wall.

"It's alright, boy," said Dumbledore, putting his hand up carefully. "I am not here to make you suffer any more. How is he?" The last was directed at Georgious who shook his head.

"I don't know if he'll hold up to it, Albus," said the lawyer, softly. "He's barely with us as it is. Putting him in that stand...I still believe is the only way for him to be seen as he really is. But do you think we should put him through it?"

"He is innocent, Dmitri. An innocent man needs the chance to be seen." Dumbledore looked at the boy with pity. "I have given my statement and it was, I believe, well accepted. It's up to you two now. Anders..." The young man looked at his former Headmaster, his blue eyes wide and scared.

"Anders...you are going to be given the chance to show people who you really are. I recommend you take that opportunity."

He nodded vigorously, then began to cough. Dumbledore winced. "This place has a lot to answer for," he said, grimly, patting Anders gently on the shoulder before turning to leave. "The prosecution council did a good job of damning him," he said, his hand on the doorknob. "He has to redeem himself. Nobody else can do it, not even you, Dmitri - no offence."

"None taken, Professor. It was understood from the start that my part in this was to get him to trial, not to speak for him." Anders watched the exchange with seemingly detached curiosity whilst he got his coughing under control, then finally spoke up in an emotion-choked voice.

"I won't let you down," he said. "I will do whatever it takes...if I have to die trying."

"I hope it doesn't come to that, Anders," said Dumbledore softly, as he left the two men alone in the room.

* * * * *

"You are free to speak now, Mr.. Grimalkin."

The faint amusement in the head wizard's voice bit through the haze of terror that blocked Anders' vision as he stood alone in the centre of the floor. He had turned in gauche circles, looking bewildered and bemused and finally stopped, his mouth slightly open. A flicker of a smile played around the young man's mouth.

"Free?" Anders raised one eyebrow as he squinted in an effort to see outside the boundaries of the circle of light in which he stood. "Free to speak? That seems...hard to believe." His voice was soft, but held a tone of strength that seemed almost impossible coming from such a frail young man. "But since you give me the chance...then the least I can do is take it."

Silence fell across the chamber.

Georgious sucked in his breath. Dumbledore had been right. There was something compelling - almost commanding about Anders holding audience in this way - even in his weakened state and with his arms chained. Some would call it the last defence of a cornered rat, but Anders seemed almost noble in his breathtaking innocence. He watched intently, then got to his own feet.

"Mr.. Grimalkin," he said. "For the benefit of this trial, it is unfortunately going to be necessary to bring to the surface many things that I know you would rather not discuss. However, these things, painful as they will be, are critical to the understanding of you as a human being. Do you understand this and subject yourself to my questions willingly?"

This was it. This was the one thing that even Dumbledore had not been certain of. Bringing the problems of Anders' life out in the open was going to wound the young man deeply, and he and Dumbledore had doubted the effectiveness of it. But his cornflower blue eyes turned to Georgious.

"I do, Sir."

The relief was palpable as Georgious nodded, turning to the Enclave. "My honours, let me tell you about Anders Grimalkin."

And it all came out. Questions were fired at Anders one after the other, and he responded, honest and truthful to the last.

How the boy had been admitted to Hogwarts in the usual way, but only after the school had been approached by his Muggle father, Dafydd, an almost unheard of instance. How the Sorting Hat had been unable to fathom the boy out and had placed him in Slytherin house, where he was a misfit, bullied physically and emotionally by his peers.

How the teaching staff had noticed his changed attitude as he grew older and returned from the school holidays with bruises and cuts marring his face where his father had lashed out at him. How he had struggled to fit in and never quite succeeded. The deaths of first his beloved mother, then his father. The lack of money that had almost ended his time at Hogwarts, had it not been for the timely and much disputed intervention of Dumbledore, who had permitted him to remain at the school under a personally sponsored scholarship.

As the conversation continued, Anders' eyes grew darker and darker and angrier. Finally, they reached the critical moment.

"And what happened that day on the Quidditch pitch, Mr. Grimalkin?"

"I do not remember. Genuinely, honestly and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, I have no recollection of events between starting the match and ending up on the ground. It was an accident. I would never, *ever* knowingly attack someone without reason. It was an accident."

Georgious nodded, stepping back, allowing the boy centre stage. The young man turned away from his lawyer to face the judges. "I know what you all think of me," he said, softly. "I know what's being whispered about me outside Azkaban - what the press have painted me to be. But none of it is true. I have never done anything wrong, my honours. I have neither the courage nor the conviction to carry through this kind of deed."

He turned to the Norwegian contingent. "I am desperately sorry about your loss," he said, and they were too caught up in the drama to react. "I know what it is to lose someone you love. But this may be the last chance I get to say this to you. I did NOT kill Olaf Peterssen."

His knees buckled under him and he sank to his knees, his head bowed like a condemned man at the block. "I am not guilty of this crime," he said, the strength in his voice beginning to fade. "I have paid a debt that I do not owe. I want my life back. Please?"

He stopped speaking and the only sound in the chamber was the resonant rattle of his breath in his lungs and the shuddering sighs that came from the exhausted young man.

Finally, Georgious stepped forward. "Wizards of the Enclave, you have heard this man speak from his heart, and I am asking you to seriously consider the implications of his words. Anders Grimalkin is an innocent. Many of you - " Here, he pointed around the public gallery - " know him only from what has been written about him. If you spend any time at all in his company, that innocence hits you like a solid wall. He did not murder Olaf Peterssen. He was involved in a very serious accident that ended in tragedy. He regrets that, and has paid a high price for it."

He stepped towards Anders who was curled up in a ball, trembling.

"It is not possible to declare a man guilty of a crime all the time there is reasonable doubt, and as you will have seen here today - Anders Grimalkin IS that reasonable doubt. If he DID commit the act of murder, it goes against everything he believes in, everything that he is. If there is a guilty party to this tragedy, it is the media, not Anders Grimalkin."

With that, he helped the boy to his feet and led him gently back to his seat.

From his position in the gallery, Albus Dumbledore wiped the tears away.

* * * * *

It wasn't over, not by a long shot. Another recess followed, and on his return, Anders became the prosecution's witness. The fire and drive seem to have gone out of the prosecuting council, however, and every time the lawyer's gaze met Anders' own cool blue one, he would look away, troubled.

"I have...no further questions," he said finally, heavily.

"Very good. Mr. Georgious - do you have anything further to add?"

"Nothing, your honour, that Mr. Grimalkin hasn't already covered himself."

"Then you may retire whilst the two and twenty consider the evidence." The head wizard waved his hand, and the entire Enclave vanished. He and Georgious had been returned to the recess chamber. Anders watched impassively, his expression totally unreadable.

"Anders."

He turned his head towards Albus Dumbledore as the Hogwarts Headmaster came into the room. "Anders, you did well out there. I want you to know that your mother would have been very proud of you." He saw the look that came into the young man's eyes, and continued hurriedly. "And I was proud of you too. I always knew that you had a spine of steel, and you proved it out there today."

Anders bowed his head. "Thank you, Professor."

"Now I must speak with Mr. Georgious. Please, excuse me."

The Professor and the strange, calm man who was Anders' lawyer left Anders alone in the room and alone with his thoughts. Strangely, he did not feel at all bitter at the stirring of the old pains, the old troubles. They seemed almost superfluous when put up against his current situation.

He considered.

In a very short space of time, his future would be determined by twenty-two complete strangers. They would either pronounce him innocent of the crimes he had supposedly committed, or they would sentence him. And once he was sent back to Azkaban, Anders knew that he would be living on borrowed time. That place would kill him. It wasn't just a fear; it was a feeling, absolute and very, very real.

If they DID find him innocent, what was he going to do with his life? He would never be able to play Quidditch again - not at a professional level, anyway. He was not phenomenally gifted magically, and he had no alternative career planned out. He'd once considered teaching, but...

Time passed unbearably slowly.

Anders had fallen into a semi-doze, which Georgious and Dumbledore carefully permitted him, having some vague idea of how he must be feeling. They had discussed many options, and one of those had been almost unforgivable. That if Anders were readmitted to Azkaban, Dumbledore would see to it that his end was a quick and painless one.

"Anders Grimalkin!"

Startled out of his doze, the boy jumped out of his chair with a start and stared around, wild-eyed before dropping to the ground in a cower. "I didn't...it wasn't me...I..."

"It's alright, Anders," said Georgious, hurrying over to him. "It's alright. It was just a nightmare. We're being called back in for pronouncement."

"Then it's still a nightmare," he whispered hoarsely, fear in his eyes.

* * * * *

"We have heard a lot of evidence both for and against the case of Anders Grimalkin during the course of this trial," said the head judge. "The defendant himself has borne the strain remarkably well, and we are all grateful to him for being so willing to open up as he has, given his current state of health." He inclined his head towards Anders, who bowed his own graciously in return.

~Get to the point,~

"This has been a difficult trial for all of us," he continued. "And the verdict we have reached has been an extremely hard one."

~I'm dead.~

"Anders Rhys Grimalkin, please step forward and receive verdict from the two and twenty."

~I don't want to die.~

He did so.

"Anders Rhys Grimalkin, the Enclave of the two and twenty has considered all the evidence presented here today and we have reached a unanimous...?" He trailed off and looked around the Enclave. They all nodded, somberly.

~I am SO dead.~

"...a unanimous verdict. On the charge of murder, we have found you..."

The chamber held its collective breath.

"...not guilty."

The roaring in Anders' ears was partly the fact that he was about to pass out, and also the roar of fury that rose from the Norwegian section of the public gallery. His last thought as he hit the ground was that he wasn't going to die after all.

Then everything went black.

* * * * *

When he came too, he was lying on a soft bed, with a cool cloth on his forehead. His chains had been released, and he was wearing a soft night robe that covered his emaciated frame. "Where am I?"

"Anders!"

Dumbledore bustled over and shook the young man vigorously by the hand. "You did it, my boy! I knew you were innocent and that you could prove it!" He saw the bewildered look on Anders' face and beamed broadly. "You are a free man," he said, and the pride on his face was almost paternal.

"Dumbledore, I wish to speak to Grimalkin alone, please," said a voice from the other side of the room." Anders turned his head. It was the head judge. "I have to explain the conditions of his release as you know, and I wish to do that now."

"Yes, yes, yes, of course," said the excited Headmaster, patting Anders' shoulder again. "I must get back to Hogwarts now, anyway - prepare the way for our new Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor." He smiled broadly and winked, leaving the room.

"How do you feel, Anders?" The judge was a kindly man, and sat down with real concern on his face.

"I feel tired, Sir, but relieved."

"As you should." There was a long and painful silence. "You are free to go now, Anders, but there are conditions to your release, which we have imposed partly as the norm, but mostly to satisfy the blood lust of the Norwegians." He sighed and put a pendant around Anders' neck, muttering the words of a spell as he did so. Anders took the jewel in his hand. It was clear crystal and quite plain. He looked up at the judge quizzically.

"It is a Dark Arts monitoring charm," said the judge by way of explanation. "The Norwegians still do not feel you are to be trusted, so we have invoked the monitoring charm. This pendant will absorb any residual effects of ANY Dark Arts spell that you cast, and change colour accordingly. You have three chances. If the pendant turns to black onyx, then your freedom will immediately be called into question, and you will need to have a damned good explanation as to why you have used the Dark Arts at all."

"I understand."

"Your flying license is also revoked. You will not be allowed anywhere near a broomstick for five years."

That hurt worse than the other.

"Of course," the judge continued, a faint smile crossing his face. "Your new job should keep you...rather busy."

"My...new...?"

"Albus Dumbledore has offered you the position of Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor at Hogwarts."

Anders could have cried. The Headmaster had done so much for him...and it was all through the man's belief in a boy with a temper.

The judge smiled more warmly. "Rest now, Mr. Grimalkin," he said, softly. "Your life starts again tomorrow."

He left the room and closed the door behind him.

Lying on the bed, now alone, but safe and warm, Anders Grimalkin cried tears of grief and joy.