Shadow of a Doubt

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Chapter One
All Aboard!

Platform nine and three quarters at 10.45am on the first day of a new Hogwarts term was, some people had said, THE place to be. Anders Grimalkin wondered which bright spark had come up with those particular bones of wisdom, as the slender young wizard was jostled and pushed along in the throng of people. The only good thing he could see about this was that the crowds afforded him a certain faceless anonymity. There was little chance he might be recognised. Being recognised was one of the things - for there were, indeed, many - that bothered him on his sleepless nights.

His senses were tingling. Everything was bringing back a flood of memories that he had long thought banished by the Dementors. That he hadn't lost more of those memories during his time in Azkaban remained a complete mystery to him. As always, thinking of Azkaban made him shudder, and his hand closed automatically around the pendant he wore round his neck.

He watched with detached interest as students poured in through the invisible barrier like a swarm of bees around a honey pot, with their families, and their luggage. He himself had only one small bag - he had very little in the way of personal possessions, so packing had not been a major problem for him. He sighed, and slung the holdall over his shoulder. The nerves were most definitely building up.

His blue-eyed gaze fixed on a group of young people standing together, talking animatedly, and he felt the old pangs of jealousy that other people had friendships like that. Always the outsider, Anders had not had a close-knit circle of friends. Hell, he hadn't HAD any friends, full stop.

Until the group all turned as one to stare back at him, Anders hadn't even realised he had been watching them, and he turned away, guiltily, boarding the train at the door that happened to be nearest to him. He made his way to an empty compartment where he put his bag up on the luggage rack and slid into a window seat, his cheeks burning.

Not for the first time, he found himself starting to worry about his suitability for a teaching job. What HAD Albus Dumbledore been thinking of? He well knew how shy the young man was. Surely his appointment as Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher would go down in history as Albus Dumbledore's greatest mistake? Anders had read the opinions of himself in Rita Skeeter's column. It seemed that the public, like the Norwegians, had been baying for blood since the accident.

He heard a clamouring outside the compartment as students began to load onto the train, and looked out of the window at the platform. The sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach just would not go away, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that everything would work out right.

He'd wanted to take the Knight Bus, rather than travel up to Hogwarts with the students, but, being him, had left it to the last minute, and when the Knight Bus had popped into existence in front of him, it had been packed and no room. They'd crammed him on and dropped him off at King's Cross, where he had seriously considered just catching a Muggle train to Inverness and simply disappearing for a short while before crossing the invisible barrier to the Hogwarts Express.

So now…here he was. And, he realised, with growing dread, he would not be alone for much longer. He could hear laughter coming down the corridor of the train. His was the compartment at the very front, so it was inevitable that whoever it was would stop in the same carriage. He stared resolutely out the window, his cheeks still burning.

"Excuse me?" The girl's voice interrupted him and he ripped his gaze away from the particularly interesting piece of litter that he had been concentrating on. A young girl, probably about fourteen or fifteen years old stood in the doorway of the compartment. Her hair was startlingly red, and her smile sweet and shy. "Are these seats taken, sir?" she asked, quietly.

"Eh…no…" he said, rubbing his nose nervously. "Feel free to…"

But the girl had already bellowed down the corridor in a surprisingly loud voice, "RON! I've found somewhere!"

He could hear more voices. "Alright, Ginny - they could hear you back home with a voice like that…" And then the compartment was full of young people. Anders cringed into his corner and returned his gaze to the platform. The students began talking quietly amongst themselves, and although he wasn't looking at them, Anders KNEW that they were shooting him curious glances.

When the train finally pulled out of the station, Anders' panic grew to such a great level, that he was almost calm. He couldn't go back now. Well…he could pull the emergency stop cord and leap out into the countryside, which seemed quite an attractive option the more he thought of it. But as the students' constant chatter washed over him, he felt a strange sense of peace and contentment. He closed his eyes and tried to relax.

The students in the carriage gradually became familiar to him through their voices. The little red haired girl who had hollered so loudly down the train was Ginny, one of the boys her older brother, Ron. The other girl was apparently Hermione, and the other boy…

"Harry Potter?" Anders said it out loud and turned to look at the group properly for the first time. The boy with the unkempt black hair and startlingly green eyes rolled his eyes heavenwards as if to say 'here we go again'.

"Yes, that's me. And, before you ask, no, I don't remember anything about my encounter with You-Know-Who." The sixteen-year-old Harry had developed a certain level of cynicism that made him seem more mature than his friends. He met Anders' gaze with his own, and something passed between them - that personal level of suffering that notoriety brings with it. "And you are…?"

Harry eyed the young man critically. Possibly a new teacher, maybe a final year student - his age was difficult to determine - he seemed to be in his early twenties, but there was something in his expression that spoke of immaturity.

"Me?" Anders paled visibly. "I…that is…" He flushed hotly. "Anders Grimalkin."

Ron nudged Harry urgently and whispered something in his ear. The expression on the boy's face turned from one of curious disinterest to something between intrigue and horror.

"The Welsh Seeker?"

Here it was. The first instance of the moment he had spent many nights agonising over.

"Former Welsh Seeker, yes." He sighed a little and turned to look out the window at the passing scenery, wishing the conversation to end there, but he should have known it wouldn't.

"Why are you on the Hogwarts Express?" This question came from the freckled red-haired boy, Ron, and was a demand rather than a question. Something in his tone irritated Anders, who turned back to fix him with an icy blue stare.

"I'm the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher," he said simply. "Any problems with that?"

Ron looked moderately horrified. "But weren't you in Azkaban?"

He was nothing if not direct. The words caused Anders to close his eyes in remembered pain. When he opened them again, Hermione was pinching Ron's arm and muttering something to him about 'consideration' and 'manners'. But there was no point in avoiding this, it was not going to be the last time.

"Yes," he admitted. "I was in Az…in That Place. But I was released a couple of months ago. I was innocent." The last was said so firmly that even Ron closed his mouth, sitting back in his seat with a slightly sullen expression on his face. Hermione smiled at the young teacher.

"Well, I look forward to your classes, sir," she said. "I'm Hermione Granger." She put her hand out his and very tentatively, he took it in his own. "Pleased to meet you," she said, her smile very wide.

"Eh. Likewise." Anders nodded to the others. "And the rest of you, too." He managed a shy smile of his own, and returned to looking out of the window.

* * * * *

As the day wore on, Anders found himself actually starting to relax a little, partly due to the constant motion of the train, partly due to the soothing babble of the students around him. Tentatively, he even joined in one or two of their Quidditch-related discussions, a move which caused Hermione to roll her eyes heavenwards and revert to reading her book of spells.

Even Ron seemed to lower his guard and was midway through an animated debate on the varied fortunes of the Chudley Cannons, when a drawling voice from the door to the compartment. "Sucking up to the teachers again, Weasley?" came a drawling voice. Before Ron could respond, young Potter spoke.

"Malfoy. What a…pleasant surprise." Harry's teeth clenched as he spoke. Picking up on the tension, Anders raised his eyebrows, turning to the door where a blond young man stood, two taller, nastier looking students flanking him on either side. Everything about them - their stance, their manner…screamed 'Slytherin'. Anders shuddered inwardly, remembering the bullies he had been faced with during his own school days. However, for now, he chose not to intervene and watched quietly. There was clearly an ongoing rivalry between the two.

Hermione slammed her book shut. "Go AWAY, Malfoy. You know that none of us give a hoot about your opinions."

"Nice to see you too, Granger," sneered Draco, snatching the book from her hands and tossing it casually over his shoulder into the corridor. "Still got that nose of yours permanently stuck in a book?"

The two young men behind Malfoy began to snigger nastily and Anders stood up.

"I think that's enough," said the young Professor, in a voice that held more conviction than he felt. "I really don't think that there's any call for this sort of…"

"And what do we have here?"

The sixteen-year-old Draco Malfoy had grown into an extremely nasty and unpleasant character. The youthful cruelty he had exhibited had matured into out-and-out nastiness as he turned to contemplate the tall young teacher. Recognition crept into his cold eyes, and a slow, and extremely unpleasant smile spread across his face.

"Well, well, well. If it isn't Anders Grimalkin, the murdering Welshman."

Crabbe and Goyle sniggered at the expression on Anders' face. To the young man's surprise, Ron Weasley spoke up at this point. "He was INNOCENT, Malfoy, don't you know ANYTHING?" The red-haired boy shot a triumphant look at Anders who smiled slightly. United in the face of the enemy.

Undaunted, Malfoy pressed on. "My father said the Ministry had tried to block your appointment to Hogwarts, but that Dumbledore was insistent." He took a step closer to the new Professor, unafraid, determined to make his mark and continued in a sarcastic manner. "Don't get me wrong, 'Professor Grimalkin', I mean, far be it for me to make judgments on people based on the fact that they're murderers…"

"Stop it, Malfoy," said Harry, his voice dangerously low. "Just get out of here, will you?"

Turning his attention to the other boy, Malfoy sneered. "Who's going to make me, Potter? You? Granger? Or maybe little Miss Weasley here." He pointed at Ginny, who squeaked and tried to hide behind her brother.

"I said," Harry repeated, getting slowly to his feet. The summer had seen him shoot up in height, and he was now maybe an inch or so taller than Malfoy, something which seemed to unnerve the blond Slytherin somewhat. It would probably not last long, but for now - Harry had the advantage. "Get out."

There was a silent face off for several seconds.

"Crabbe - Goyle - there's nobody worth speaking to here. Let's go find Longbottom. He still owes us a favour from last term," said Malfoy, with a hint of uncertainty in his voice that put a grim smile on Harry's face. The blond boy gestured to his two goons and the three of them left.

Harry bent to pick up Hermione's book and gave it back to her. "That," he said, by way of explanation to the pale teacher, "was Draco Malfoy. I'm sure he'll make your life as miserable as he can manage - he likes nothing better than fresh blood."

Anders nodded, and sat back down again, letting his head drop into his hands and moaning softly. The students exchanged concerned glances. Hermione was the first to speak.

"Are you alright, sir?" she asked, her voice surprisingly soft. Ron nudged Harry again and whispered something that put a huge grin on Potter's face. Not that Anders saw any of this, lost as he was in his own thoughts.

"Professor Grimalkin?" prompted Hermione again. "Can I get you a drink or something? You look a little unwell."

His head still in his hands, Anders replied, "No, no, I'll be fine." He looked up and sighed. "I…I'm sorry. Some things still hurt." He smiled slightly. "Thank you for defending me, Ron."

"That's quite alright, sir," said the boy cheerfully. "Now, where were we before we were so rudely interrupted…" And the discussion about Quidditch carried on, leaving Ginny talking to Harry and Hermione reading her book again.

From time to time, she would glance almost shyly at Anders, then bow her head to her work again. She was quite struck by the handsome young Professor, but not in quite the same way as she had been when she had the crush on Professor Lockhart. This was something else altogether. Something about the young man's inherent vulnerability that made him simply scream out for friendship - something she recognised as being in possession of herself.

Sighing inwardly, Hermione returned to the Standard Book of Spells Volume Six.

* * * * *

After a brief repast of chocolate frogs washed down with pumpkin juice, the Hogwarts Express began slowing as it entered the final part of its journey towards the school. Anders had, by this time, fallen into a restless slumber, his cheek pressed against the window of the train. He looked pale and ill. From time to time a soft whimper would escape his lips. The four students watched him curiously for a while.

"What do you make of…" Ron asked his friends in a low voice, jerking his thumb in Professor Grimalkin's direction. Harry looked at the young Professor and shrugged.

"Hard to say," he mused. "Seems nice enough…but we all thought that about Professor Quirrell. And Professor Lockhart. Now it might just be me…but does anyone else see a pattern emerging here?"

"I think he's nice," ventured Hermione. "Misunderstood. Another good example of the awful justice system that's in place when it comes to the wizarding world. Not that the Muggle justice system is much better," she added, under her breath.

"You just fancy him," accused Ron, a grin on his freckled face. Hermione responded with a lofty expression, which spoke volumes. Ron and Ginny began to giggle, but Harry smiled fondly at Hermione.

"I think we know Hermione well enough now, Ron, to know that her opinions on people are generally pretty good." She shot him a grateful glance. "And he was pretty controlled when Malfoy tried to get him to rise to the bait earlier." Harry shrugged again. "But he has taken the Defence Against the Dark Arts job - and I think we've seen just how reliable those Professors are. With the exception of Professor Lupin, of course," he added, loyally.

That reminded Ron. "Have you heard from…from Padfoot at all?" he asked with a suggestive waggle of the eyebrows.

"Yes. He and Buckbeak are off having a great time travelling the world," replied Harry. "I don't think we'll see him at all this term, but he did almost cause my Uncle Vernon to have heart failure when he turned up on the Dursley's doorstep during the holidays."

"He NEVER!" Ron was incredulous. "With the motorbike and everything?"

"The whole hog," acknowledged Harry. "Standing at the front door. Full dress robes at three in the afternoon on a Sunday. I tell you this much - I've never seen Uncle Vernon drag someone in off the street so quickly. He's still afraid the neighbours must have seen something. Siri…Padfoot was just trying to make an effort to impress."

Ron grinned broadly and Hermione smiled. Trust Sirius to know where to strike. Harry's godfather didn't approve of the Dursleys, and the feeling was entirely mutual. "Wonder if he knew Professor Grimalkin at all while he was in Azkaban."

"Doubt it," said Harry, thoughtfully. "From what you've said, Professor Grimalkin was only in there for eight months…" Another whimper from the young man made them all look at him. "Eight months would seem to be long enough," added Harry, a look of pity coming into his face. "And to think that Padfoot was in there for all those years and came out with his sanity intact…gives you another level of respect for him."

The others nodded their heads, slowly. Hermione found that she felt strangely guilty for watching the young man's suffering. It seemed to be a private thing that nobody should be party to. Impulsively, she leaned over and gently shook him. "Professor, we are almost at Hogwarts."

Blearily, Anders opened his eyes and they were filled with displaced confusion for a few seconds before he sat fully upright, rubbing at his face. "Thank you," he said, treating her to one of his shy smiles. "Knowing my luck, I'd have slept right through and still been on the train when you got back on it at the end of term."

They all smiled good naturedly at their new Professor. It was strange to consider this young man as being anything more than a final-year student - he seemed so very young. Hermione found herself wondering just how young he was. They had thought Professor Lupin was young, but he had been at the youngest in his late thirties. Professor Grimalkin seemed a lot younger than that, barely out of school himself.

Anders was aware of the girl's scrutiny and, despite himself, began to blush furiously. "I suppose I…my robes…" he said, weakly, waving a vague hand over his Muggle clothing. He seemed almost ashamed as he reached up to the overhead compartment and pulled down the holdall. He shook out a set of extremely tatty robes that made even Ron embarrassed on his behalf.

"I…didn't get much of a chance to get kitted out," said Anders, a little defensively as he caught the glimpses they shot at his outfit. "Maybe I'll treat myself with my first pay packet…"

It was not the entire truth. He had had the time, but not the money. Astrid and Dafydd Grimalkin had not been well off, and the only money Anders had received had been when the house had been sold. Most of that had gone on paying off his father's debts, and the rest on the first installment on his legal bills. The only material possession of worth Anders had was his beloved motorbike - and nothing - NOTHING - would make him part with that.

He slid the robes on over his head. They had last been worn during his final year at Hogwarts, six years previously, when he had still been slender, but more muscled than he was now. They hung loosely from his shoulders and made him seem skinnier and taller than he was already. His wild black hair had started to escape from its moderately tidy ponytail, and long strands hung around his pale face. He rubbed the end of his nose nervously.

Inevitably, of course, the Hogwarts Express pulled in at the station, and Anders found himself once again caught up in the tide of chaos that made up the first day of term. Gripping onto his bag as if it were the only thing that would keep him afloat, he made his way quietly towards the castle, with
the intention of paying his respects to Dumbledore and slinking off to his room. He didn't want to go to the banquet if he could possibly avoid it.

Albus Dumbledore, however, was not quite such a pushover as Anders had hoped.

"Anders, my boy!" he had roared as the shy young man had knocked on his door. He had leaped up from his seat and rushed over to pump Anders' hand enthusiastically. "How have you been?"

"Not bad, Headmaster," he replied. "Well…actually, quite well - all things considered."

"Delighted to hear it," beamed the old man, still shaking Anders' hand vigorously. "I've been so looking forward to seeing you. Haven't had much of a chance to talk since all that nasty business."

"No, indeed." Anders was starting to feel a bit sick from the constant motion, but Dumbledore didn't seem to notice that his new Professor was beginning to take on a slightly greenish hue. Finally, however, he let go of Anders' hand, much to the young man's quiet relief. He waved Anders
down into a seat, which the Professor took gratefully. Dumbledore's office was warm, and colour soon came to Anders' cheeks, as he sipped at the glass of pumpkin wine the Headmaster handed him.

"I was hoping," said Anders shyly, "that I might be excused from the banquet tonight. I am rather tired and I…"

"What? Miss the banquet? No, no, my DEAR boy! You couldn't possibly do that!" The twinkle in Dumbledore's eyes was almost as frightening as a Dementor to Anders right now. "We have to introduce you to the school, and I would prefer to do that myself rather than have to stem any…unnecessary gossip about you." He lowered his glasses a little and fixed Anders with a level gaze. "Is that understood?"

"Yes, Headmaster," said Anders, a little miserably.

"Don't worry too much, Anders," said Dumbledore kindly, getting to his feet and laying a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder. "I've seen what sort of strength you possess. It will all work out for the best. I have faith in you."

"Yes, Headmaster." Dutiful.

"Anders Grimalkin, you listen to me." There was an earnest note in the Headmaster's tone that made Anders drop his mantle of self-indulgence for a moment and stare fixedly at the old man. "You are more than capable of succeeding in this position. Do you honestly think I would have offered you the job if I didn't believe that?"

There was a long silence, then Anders sighed. "I guess I'm worried you gave me the job out of pity, see." He took another mouthful of the sweet amber liquid in his goblet and sloshed it around in his mouth before swallowing it nervously. "You've done so much for me already and all…"

"I did nothing for you, Anders, except give you the chance to be seen for who you really are. And that is all I ask of you tonight. Come to the banquet. Stand up to those who would seek to undermine you."

Something in the Headmaster's words fired Anders' blood. He downed the last of his pumpkin wine and got to his feet.

"I must go and clean myself up. There's a feast waiting," he said.

"That's my boy," beamed Dumbledore.