Shadow of a Doubt

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Chapter Five
Pushing the Envelope

The weeks leading up to Christmas slipped away more swiftly than anyone could ever remember. Lessons were full of constant reminders about the upcoming O.W.L. mock examinations, and by the end of October, even Hermione had the jitters.

Harry had taken some of the pressure off by gathering his Quidditch team together and heading out for regular practises. Now the team captain, he was starting to understand a little of what had made Oliver Wood tick.

He had also noticed, on several occasions, a tall, slender figure, dressed in dark robes and with a cigarette invariable burning between its fingers. Just standing at the edge of the pitch, watching their practises with a faintly wistful expression. Professor Grimalkin.

The young Professor's Defence Against the Dark Arts classes had proven to be a hit with every class - except, of course, the one that contained Draco Malfoy. From what little information Harry had been able to glean, Malfoy had delighted in constantly reminding the Professor about his 'history', and bringing up the subject of Azkaban at least three times a lesson. To the Professor's credit, he had apparently not once risen to the constant baiting and had remind mild in the face of Malfoy's taunts.

The fifth years had enjoyed Professor Grimalkin's lessons, each one being illustrated with more spectacular illusions than the ones he had produced in the first class. Under heavy pressure from his various students, the shy, retiring young man had set up an Illusions class after school, and had thrown himself into it wholeheartedly. Albus Dumbledore had smiled to himself. Grown wizards generally had little use for Illusion other than as a form of recreation - but it was good to show the students there were more entertainments than Quidditch. He also didn't believe that the popularity of the class - particularly amongst the female students - was entirely down to the desire to learn the subject.

Harry had turned down Hermione's invitation to accompany her to Illusion classes, but Ron, surprisingly, had been very keen. It annoyed Hermione even more when, after the first class was over, it transpired that Ron had a natural aptitude for the subject. He beamed happily at her.

"You've got your brain, Harry's got his Quidditch...it's about time I found something that I could do."

Professor Snape continued to mock Grimalkin at every opportunity, and it was getting harder for Anders to ignore it. Peeves the poltergeist turned up at least once a day to taunt him further, and it was becoming more and more difficult for him to hold his temper in. Frequent, brief explosions at students helped, and once they had established he was just letting off steam, most of the students were no longer bothered by his occasional shows of petulant temper, and indeed, in-house competitions began to see who could get the most swear words out of him in one lesson.

Since the first of September, Anders Grimalkin had changed quite noticeably from a shy, retiring and nervous young man into one whose personality seemed to bloom under the nurturing environment that Hogwarts had given him.

Hermione watched him at breakfast on the morning of Hallow'een. He was eating heartily, talking to Professor Flitwick happily, and waving his fork around animatedly. The tiny Charms Professor had to keep ducking in order to avoid a face full of sausage.

He was looking much healthier and more filled-out than he had when he had first arrived, for which Hermione was secretly pleased. She had always considered that he looked as if he would snap in two with one hard shove, he was that fragile.

"...and then back to Honeydukes," Ron was saying enthusiastically to her. She blinked and stared at him.

"Sorry, Ron?"

"Hermione, have you heard a word I've been saying?"

"Sorry," she apologised again, shaking her head. "I was miles away."

"Oh, yeah," said Ron, a sly grin crossing his face. "I could see where, too." She flushed hotly, and Harry nudged Ron in the ribs.

"We were discussing what we're going to do in Hogsmeade," explained Harry. "I assume you'll put your books down long enough to come with us?"

"Of course I will," she said, glad for Harry's ability to change the subject and stop her being the target of Ron's ridicule any more. She entered into the discussion more intently, hoping to detract from the fact that her attention was still up at the head of the tables with the young Professor.

* * * * *

The conversation up at the teacher's table was surprisingly similar to that taking place further down the hall. "You SHOULD go, Professor," said McGonagall to Grimalkin. "You never really went on the Hogsmeade trips as a student, did you?"

"No," he admitted, a wry smile on his face. "My...da wouldn't sign the permission slip."

"You don't NEED permission any more, Professor, you're a grown man. Go. The fresh air can only do you good. You don't go outside at all except to smoke those disgusting cigarettes of yours that I've noticed." Her expression softened. "I would have thought you'd had enough of being indoors." Grimalkin paled a little.

"I don't know," he said. "I like being indoors. Besides, if I'm outside too long, my lungs disagree with me." He rapped himself sharply on the ribcage. "Still a bit...inclined to catching coughs and colds."

"You're making excuses now," said McGonagall, sharply. Then she laughed. "Sometimes it's hard to remember you're no longer a student, Anders. Of course, the rest of us will be going, so you'll only have yourself for company."

"My favourite," he said, smiling back. "Alright, Professor...maybe I will just take a quick trip in. Who knows? I may even enjoy myself."
"Excellent," she beamed.

At this moment, Hagrid entered the room and after waving and saying a brief 'hello' to Harry and his friends, strode up to sit on the other side of Anders, with whom he immediately entered into a discussion about Welsh dragon types. The young Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor was almost as keen as Hagrid on weird and wonderful creatures, it had transpired, probably, Hermione thought, explaining in some way the peculiar friendship the two had.

Hermione, still listening to Ron waffling on about what he would be buying from Zonko's Joke Shop, let her attention try to catch what was being said. Hagrid's voice wasn't exactly...gentle at the best of times, so she did not have to strain too hard.

"That's wonderful," he was saying. "We can go for a drink or two in the Three Broomsticks and talk about this some more!"

Did that mean the Professor would be coming to Hogsmeade with them? Hermione was alarmed at the way her heart skipped a beat at the thought of it. ~Remember Lockhart~, she told herself fiercely. ~Looks aren't everything!~

But what looks.

* * * * *

Professor Grimalkin walked in the company of Hagrid, Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick, well wrapped up to the point that all that was visible of him over the huge scarf he wore were his bright blue eyes. The hood of his robes was pulled up around his head, and when he spoke, it was so muffled that nobody could really understand him.

They reached Hogsmeade, and Anders and Hagrid peeled away from the others to head straight for the Three Broomsticks, although Anders did momentarily look wistfully at Honeydukes. The stuff of legends, he thought, with a huge sigh. Was probably better not to go in for fear of disappointment.

Hagrid led him into the Three Broomsticks and ushered him over into a corner, fairly close to the fire that roared in the grate. He waved over Madam Rosmerta, the pretty witch who ran the pub, and ordered himself a tankard of beer. After some hesitation, Anders plumped for a cup of coffee.

"You sure, lad? Can't tempt you into something stronger?" Hagrid asked him, raising one eyebrow curiously. Anders shook his head.

"No, Hagrid," he said. "I saw enough of that with my Da. Kind of...put me off, you could say." Rosmerta returned with their drinks and shot Anders an appreciative sort of look before heading back off to the bar. Hagrid nodded sympathetically and patted his young friend's arm.

"So how you settlin' in, then?" Hagrid asked, wiping the foam from ale away from his mustached lip. Anders shrugged, but there was a grin on his face.

"I'm loving it, Hagrid. The students are actually LISTENING to me, which is a miracle in itself - and aside from one or two snide remarks from Draco Malfoy..." He noticed Hagrid's look darken - "I think I'm doing alright. Oh. Peeves continues to press his advantage though." He took a sip of coffee. "Nobody seems to have figured out what he's talking about - thank goodness for him and his need to be cryptic."

"It'll all work out in the end, Anders," Hagrid said, kindly. "Peeves is ignored by most people anyway. But you know...when the ghosts found out about...about..." His voice dropped to a whisper. "About...IT...they were totally unnerved. Accused you of all sorts of Dark Magic and the like."

"I know," said Anders, wretchedly. "If it hadn't been for Snape casting that spell, I'd have got away with it until I'd left Hogwarts. But he knew. He knew all the time."

The door opened, letting in a cold draft of air. Anders and Hagrid glanced up to see Harry, Ron and Hermione entering, laden down with bags from Honeydukes and Zonko's. Hagrid grinned. "If they want to, mind if they sit with us, Anders?"

"No, not at all," he replied, grinning himself. "I'm getting rather fond of the three of them."

"'ere, Harry, over 'ere!" Hagrid stood up and boomed across the pub. Anders sank into his chair, wincing. Hermione waved back at Hagrid and the three crossed the room to sit down with the two teachers. Hermione found herself, much to a confused mixture of delight and horror, sitting next to Professor Grimalkin.

The afternoon wore on, and after a fairly hesitant start, Anders found himself involved in the conversation, happily contributing and even finally succumbing to Hagrid's offer of more beer. The light outside began to fade, lengthening the shadows in the room, and the young Professor felt sleepy and happy, more relaxed than he had done for some time.

He was not aware, therefore, of the look of intrigue and uncertainty that Hermione was shooting him, nor did he notice when she moved the candlestick in the middle of the table to a slightly different angle.

"We'd best be headin' back to the castle," said Hagrid finally, reluctantly, his bearded face pink from the ale and heat in the room. "Hallow'een feast tonight!"

"Yes," said Hermione, her gaze still riveted on Professor Grimalkin who looked for all the world like he was about to nod off. He met her look and gave her a sleepy smile that made her stomach flutter. "Thank you for the company," she said to him.

"Mm. You too." He grinned at first her and then the boys. "See you tonight."
Ron and Harry had already got to their feet and were heading for the door. Hermione lingered a moment longer, as if wanting to ask Professor Grimalkin something, but seemed to lose confidence in herself. She joined her friends at the door and they left to go back to Hogwarts.

"Lovely kids, them," said Hagrid, fiercely. "Th' number o' times they've come through for me..."

"Yeah," agreed Anders, helping the other man to his feet. He stared after Hermione, who had been glancing back over her shoulder giving him a look that was all-too familiar to him. "Lovely kids."

* * * * *

Hermione was strangely subdued on the trip back to the castle, but neither Ron nor Harry really noticed, buoyed up as they were by a day well spent with the promise of a feast to look forward to. She left the boys in the Entrance Hall, saying that she needed to go to the library to check something out. They stared at her like she was mad, but said nothing as she disappeared around the corner.

"She never stops," grumbled Ron. "It's about time Hermione learned to loosen up."

There was definitely something occupying the mind of their friend, Harry thought as an hour later, they headed down to the Great Hall, which had been suitably decorated for the occasion. They ducked as the bats freewheeled around the starry ceiling and grinned back at the countless pumpkin lanterns that lined the walls. They were feeling decidedly lightheaded and happy as they took their seats next to Hermione, who was already there.

She barely glanced up at them, seemingly lost and absorbed in the book she was reading. Ron grinned at Harry. "Hermione...put the book DOWN, for heavens sake."

Obediently, she put a marker in the book and closed it, putting it on the floor under her chair. She lowered her voice considerably. "I think I know the answer to Peeves' riddle."

Harry and Ron looked mystified. Hermione sighed. "You know. The one about what Professor Grimalkin hasn't got that everyone else has...?" Slow dawning of comprehension crossed their faces. "I got the strangest feeling earlier when I was sat next to him in the Three Broomsticks," she began, but was interrupted by Professor Dumbledore standing up in his seat to announce the beginning of the Hallow'een feast. To Hermione's chagrin, her friends seemed to immediately lose interest in what she had to say as they began to eat. She sighed inwardly. It would wait.

* * * * *

Anders ate with a healthy appetite, supplementing his dinner with several goblets of wine that left him a little more drunk than he realised. He must have been intoxicated, because when Snape hissed something at him, he merely grinned cheerfully and raised his goblet in toast to the Potions Master.

"You're drunk," said Snape, in disgust. "Fine example to set."

"Woo. Professor Snape, model teacher," he giggled in response. "'Scuse ME, your worshipfulness. I'm just having a good time. Something wrong with that?"

Snape did not rise to the bait, merely shot Anders a look that warned him against taking this conversation any further. Anders returned to his dinner, eating and drinking happily. Snape, getting angrier with the young man by the second, finally shoved his chair back from the table, made his excuses and marched out of the Hall.

"'Bye, Professor," called Anders cheerfully, waving after him. He felt eyes boring into the back of his neck and turned to see Dumbledore shaking his head grimly. But Anders was in that dangerous, devil-may-care mood that had seen him get into trouble several times before - the attitude that made him almost entirely impervious to what sort of impression he was making.

"I'll go 'pologise, shall I?" he said, a broad grin splitting his handsome face. Dumbledore sighed.

"Leave it, Anders. Just let Snape go and stew. Don't push him."

But Anders had already got to his feet, swaying dangerously. "I'll just go say sorry, then come straight back, Headmaster. Wouldn't want Professor Snape thinking I'm rude or anything, now, would I?"

Dumbledore rolled his eyes heavenwards.

* * * * *

DAMN the man!

Severus Snape marched angrily out of the Great Hall. Why did Anders Grimalkin, even now, have the power to irritate him so very much? It was almost entirely unjustified, of course - and Snape was aware of that, very, almost painfully aware.

"Professor Snape?"

No. Surely the boy wasn't foolish enough to have followed him out of the Great Hall? He never had learned when to leave well enough alone. Snape turned slowly to face him. "What do you want, Grimalkin?"

"Just wanted to apologise. Back in there..." He gestured with his head vaguely. "I was a bit rude. I'm sorry."

Snape said nothing. Anders furrowed his brow. "I said, I'm sorry. Didn't you hear me?"

Still silence. Anders knew he should leave it there, but somehow...somehow he just couldn't. A white-hot flame of fury lit in the pit of his stomach, and the temper that he had become justly famous for began spreading its fire around his body. "Don't ignore me, Severus," he said, deliberately using the Professor's first name in an attempt to show that they were no longer different, that they were equals, in status if not in attitude. "I'm offering you an apology. The least you could do is have the good grace to accept it."

Snape watched him for what seemed like a long time until finally, with a short laugh, he treated Anders to a mock bow before spinning on his heel and marching away again.

Anders stared after him incredulously, then turned away. As he began to walk, however, his body suddenly stiffened as...something happened to him that he'd only ever experienced once before. The sensation of whispering. Inside his mind.

// You're just going to let him walk away? You coward. //

Just once before. Just before something had made him direct his broomstick so that it slammed into the solar plexus of Olaf Peterssen. "I'm not a coward," he muttered, clenching his fists beneath his robes.

// Prove it then. //

The voice was SNEERING at him. Anders felt the heat rise in his face, but struggled desperately to keep it down. Behind him, Severus Snape had heard him muttering to himself, and had turned to stare at him coldly. The Anders Grimalkin he had known as a student had been possessed of the most impressive temper the Potions Master could ever recall having seen. The slight, slender young boy had lifted people off their feet up against the wall in rage on occasion. He'd told Dumbledore. A temper like that needed to be watched carefully.

And he watched carefully now, coolly distant.

The young wizard was clearly fighting with some strange inner demons. Snape watched with moderate curiosity as his fists clenched and unclenched, and his shoulders shook with barely suppressed rage.

"Are you going to do anything, boy, or are you going to just stand there?"

// Do it. //

"I...can't," Anders gasped. "I can't do that."

"What can't you do, Grimalkin? Look at me when I'm speaking to you." Snape's voice was raised in anger of his own now. But Anders did not respond. Enraged, Snape marched up to him, getting hold of him by the shoulder and turning Grimalkin around to face him. "What can't you do?"

"Don't touch me," said Grimalkin, in a voice that was barely more than a whisper. "Never touch me again." His face was white, and there was - strangely - a look of confusion there. Snape chose not to question the confusion, however.

"You started this 'discussion', Grimalkin," said Snape, his face close to Grimalkin's. "Are you going to end it?"

// DO IT! //

"NO!" The young Professor let out a scream of enraged fury, and, grabbing Snape by the shoulders of his robe, slammed him into the wall, gasping in drawn-out ragged breaths. Severus Snape winced as the pain of Grimalkin's sudden attack took him by surprise.

"Come on then, Grimalkin. This is the opportunity you've been waiting for. What are you going to do about it?" Snape's voice was cruelly taunting and, combined with the whispering words in his head, Anders was beginning to lose control of himself.

"Nothing, Severus." He let go of the other Professor's robes and stood back. "I'm going to do precisely nothing."

It was roughly at this moment that Dumbledore and McGonagall came out of the Great Hall. Disturbed by the length of Anders' absence, they had come to find out what was happening. Snape and Grimalkin were standing a little way down the corridor, in some sort of face off.

"Nothing? Just what I'd expect from you," sneered Snape nastily. "What's the matter, Grimalkin? Lost your spine as well? Maybe you create one of THOSE as an illusion and trick everyone into believing you are normal."

"Severus, leave it!" Dumbledore hurried over and placed himself between the two men. "Anders, go upstairs and stick your head in the sink or something. I will not tolerate this behaviour amongst my staff. Do you understand me?"

Several faces peered around the door of the Great Hall, Harry, Ron and Hermione amongst them. They had heard Snape's comment about Professor Grimalkin's spine and had winced collectively.

"I'm leaving anyway, Headmaster," said Snape, dusting down his robes as if something nasty had touched them. He walked past Professor Grimalkin, shooting him a glare of malicious proportions.

// Do it now, boy. Or suffer the consequences. //

Anders clenched his hands into fists again. "Professor Snape?" he called after the retreating man, who stopped dead, but didn't turn round. "Professor Snape...I challenge you..."

Dumbledore began shaking his head frantically, drawing his finger across his throat in a 'kill it' gesture, but Anders continued on blindly. "...I challenge you to a Wizard's Duel."

The group at the door of the Great Hall held their breaths. A challenge like this could not be refused without causing the challenged party great shame and embarrassment. And even Dumbledore could not interfere now. The challenge, once laid down, was between the two wizards involved - and no-one else.

All eyes turned to Snape. The Potions Master looked coldly at Anders for a few seconds, then turned his head slightly towards Dumbledore, whose expression was curiously blank.

"I accept," said Snape in a soft, dangerous voice. "Tomorrow. At one o'clock."

He performed the same low, mocking bow and walked away, his black robes billowing out behind him.