Shadow of a Doubt

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Chapter Six
The Duel

Anders stood for a few moments, his face as white as a sheet, then, with a semi-triumphant look at Dumbledore and McGonagall, wheeled around and stalked off towards his own rooms, without a backward glance.

"Albus..." began Professor McGonagall, making as if to go after the young man, but the Headmaster shook his head and caught her arm. "Albus, we must put a stop to this," she insisted. "This is not a squabble between two students - these are two fully grown, both very capable wizards."

"They are as stubborn as each other, Minerva," he said, a tone of sadness in his voice. "If we try to stop them doing this thing, they will simply continue to rile one another. I will place a charm of protection on them both before they start. They will not be injured, but somebody's pride may well take a nasty dent."

The Headmaster turned to look at the sea of faces that gazed at him from the Great Hall. "Back inside and enjoy yourselves," he beamed. "Dessert time, I think!"

Reluctantly, the students returned to their seats, but soon brightened up when they spread the gossip to their comrades who had not managed to get to the door. Soon, all four tables were taking sides and deciding who was going to win. Only the Slytherin table seemed to be having difficulty deciding. After all - hadn't Professor Grimalkin been a Slytherin in his day?

"Well, I think they're both idiots," said Hermione, huffily after being asked for the umpteenth time who she thought would win. "Professor Grimalkin was silly to challenge Snape to a Duel, and Snape was even sillier to accept the challenge."

"If he'd refused it, he'd have lost face in the sight of the whole school," explained Ron patiently. In his view, Hermione was a girl, and therefore had no idea about such concepts as 'honour' and 'pride'.

"Well, I think it's stupid," she said, insistently, eating her slice of chocolate gateau and refusing to comment any further on the situation.

Draco Malfoy and his cronies crossed the Hall to stand in front of Harry. "Your pet Professor is going to make a fool of himself tomorrow, Granger," said Malfoy, smirking. "With a bit of luck, Snape might just add a bit more interest to that stupid face of his."

"He's NOT my 'pet Professor', Malfoy, and you're blocking my view of the portraits."

"Snape will wipe the floor with his pony tail. Don't know why he has to have that stupid, girly hair, makes him look weak and feeble. Like a girl." Ron bristled at this: his eldest brother Bill was the proud owner of a pony tail. Ron thought it was cool.

Hermione stared straight through Malfoy, who was starting to get angry.

"I bet if I was to challenge YOU to a duel, Granger, you'd find some soppy excuse to get out of it."

Silence.

Malfoy gave up. He couldn't be bothered to rub people up the wrong way if they didn't bite. He motioned to Crabbe and Goyle with a flick of his hand, and the three Slytherins left. Harry and Ron looked at Hermione, impressed.

"That was brilliant, Hermione. Brilliant!" Ron said, admiringly, giving her shoulder a squeeze. She smiled back. "Something I read in a book today. If something is bothering you, just ignore it - it'll probably go away." She bent down and picked up the book under her chair. "Apparently, there's a whole group of wizards who can become completely invisible simply by making people ignore them. Fascinating."

Harry squinted at the book. "Unexplained Magical Phenomena: A Beginner's Guide to the Magically Mysterious." Hermione held the book out to him, and Harry flipped through a few pages. "Myths and Legends? Wow, Hermione's reading fiction?"

"Not fiction," she said absently. "It explains why real wizarding powers are mistaken for legends. Like the disappearing wizards. It's a very interesting book." She opened the book at the page where she had put her book mark. "There," she said.

Harry followed her finger down the page and stopped. "The Umbra. That the one?" She nodded, biting her lip. "The Umbra are a rare breed of vampire that have been known to strike in the Muggle World as well as the wizarding world. The Umbra are set apart from their other vampire brethren in several important ways. Firstly, they are genetically different in that they are able, on the whole, to blend almost seamlessly into society. Secondly, they are characterised by an uncanny ability to hold people's attention when they speak, almost as though they have cast a Fascination Charm over their audience. This is not (usually) the case: the Umbra have a great sense of presence, and it is a strong willed person indeed who can resist the full charisma of an Umbra."

Harry put the book down and narrowed his eyes. "What's this about, Hermione?"

She shook her head, still biting her lip, tears appearing in her eyes. "Read there," she said, pointing out a passage.

"One way to recognise an Umbra is that it casts no shadow." Harry looked up, furrowing his brow. Hermione nodded.

"I was trying to tell you," she said, almost wretchedly. "Today, in Hogsmeade? In the Three Broomsticks? When the candles were lit...I was warm, and cosy. Happy. I was watching the four shadows on the wall."

"Four?" said Ron. "But there were FIVE of us..." He broke off and stared at Harry. "What does Professor Grimalkin not have that everyone else has...especially at noon?"

The three of them said it together.

"A shadow."

* * * * *

They were right, of course. Anders Grimalkin DID have no shadow, but he was not a vampire. At least, not that anybody had been able to prove. He had no insatiable blood lust, no aversion to crucifixes, and was therefore totally flummoxed as to why he had no shadow. He had had one before he came to Hogwarts, he knew that, so at first had put it down simply to the school, which as everyone knew had a life of its own, playing a cruel joke on him.

But after three weeks had passed and his shadow had still not returned, Anders began to panic. Fortunately for him, everyone in his year was too preoccupied with first year jitters to have noticed. It had been Hagrid, in fact, who had been the first one to notice it 'officially'.

As he sat in his bedroom, downing glass after glass of water in order to take away the nausea that was creeping through him, Anders thought back to that day. When Hagrid had pulled him to one side and, in that unbelievably blunt manner had asked him outright where his shadow was.

He'd been alarmed by the young boy's reaction. Anders had burst into tears and told Hagrid that until his arrival at Hogwarts, he and his shadow had been just fine, thank you so very much, and that he was thinking about running away from the school in the hope his shadow would return.

Hagrid had been watching this pale, slight boy since he had arrived, nervous and frightened, and had been most surprised to see him sorted into Slytherin. The bullies had lynched onto him almost immediately, of course, and Hagrid's worry was that the discovery of Anders' missing 'self' would give them more ammunition to fire at him.

Thus it had been that Hagrid had encouraged Anders to use his natural talent to help him. Anders had, under Hagrid's watchful and critical eye, created an illusory shadow that followed him faithfully everywhere he went. If he became tired, or lost his concentration, the shadow would disappear, but for the most part, Anders was successful in maintaining the illusion.

Snape knew though, Anders thought to himself bitterly. Oh, yes. Snape had known and had waited, biding his time until that day when Anders had been a fifth year, taking a Dueling class.

It flashed through his mind like it had been only yesterday.

"One of the best defences against any other wizard," Snape had said, with an evil glint in his eye, "is to strip them of their defences. Mr. Grimalkin, step forward please."

He had done so, slightly nervous. Snape regularly picked on him during Dueling classes, but this tone of voice seemed particularly malevolent.

"This spell," the Slytherin House Master had hissed, his eyes gleaming, "strips your 'enemy' of any falsehood. Therefore, if a man of five feet had woven an illusion that he was, in fact, an ogre, this spell will reveal the truth." Before Anders could let Snape's words sink in, the teacher had raised his wand and roared "SPOLIO FACTICIUS!"

The Strip Artifice spell had, of course, caused Anders' illusory shadow to dissipate and vanish, leaving the rest of the class very shaken. Snape had been covering Defence Against the Dark Arts classes for a few weeks and, as was his nature, had encouraged the class to read about the different types of vampire.

Ridiculed and immediately outcast even further, Anders had been unable to explain why he had no shadow, and this served only to make his journey to pariah complete. He left school as he had started it. No friends, no respect, and only talents for Illusion and Quidditch to give him any advantage in life.

Now, the man had the chance to pay Snape back for all the misery he had caused with that one lousy spell. ~Tomorrow, Anders,~ he promised himself grimly. ~Tomorrow you'll have the upper hand.~

* * * * *

The morning dawned rainy and grey, and the mood seemed to be reflected on the faces of several of the students. The feast had not regained its vigour and enthusiasm following the standoff between the two Professors - that had been FAR more exciting.

Hermione, with some disapproval, noted that some of the students were already sporting badges declaring their support for Professor Snape. "This isn't some sort of entertainment laid on for their benefit," she complained to Ron, who hurriedly tried to conceal his 'Grimalkin' badge from her sight.

Professor Grimalkin was not to be seen at the breakfast table that morning: this in itself came as no great surprise, he had clearly had one too many goblets of wine at the Feast, and was no doubt sleeping it off. Harry and Ron had been disappointed, however. They had laced his breakfast bowl with essence of garlic and had been hoping to see what sort of reaction it provoked.

They had naturally been horrified when Professor Vector, noting the empty seat next to Professor Flitwick had sat there instead.

Ripping their mutually aghast faces from the sight, and trying to ignore the sound of Professor Vector spitting cornflakes out across the table, Harry and Ron suddenly became extremely interested in their own breakfasts.

Hermione sighed. They were getting worse, she swore they were. They had already told her their plans to go to the library and find out all they could about vampire defence techniques.

"You want to watch out, Hermione," Ron had said, genuine concern in his voice. "He seems to quite like you. What if he decides you're the one he wants to bite?"

"Oh, RON! Nobody's saying he's a vampire, it's just one possible explanation! And besides - why should a vampire who's teaching want to bite anyone? Professor Lupin managed to keep his werewolf problem under control, why shouldn't Professor Grimalkin be the same?"

Ron hadn't been convinced.

The whole Great Hall looked up as Professor Snape entered the room, a look of bored disinterest on his face. As he passed the Slytherin table, they all cheered him, but he ignored it, heading instead for his seat at the top table, next to where Professor Flitwick was busily cleaning cornflakes out of his lap. Ron and Harry swallowed nervously as Snape exchanged a few words with Professor Vector, then took the bowl, sniffing it intently.

* * * * *

"Allium oleraceum," said Snape, handing the bowl back to Professor Vector. "Don't worry. Just a schoolboy prank. Obviously somebody's idea of a stupid joke." His eyes met those of Harry and Ron and a faint glimmer of a smirk crossed his mouth. "I don't believe anybody was trying to poison Professor Grimalkin. Or you either, Professor Vector."

He ate his own breakfast in silence, not once looking up. "He's nervous, he is," said Dean Thomas, who was proudly wearing a 'Grimalkin' badge. "You can tell."

"Why should Professor Snape be nervous?" said Harry, shrugging. "It's not as if he isn't a good wizard - we know that he is." He couldn't believe he was actually defending his least favourite teacher, but he was feeling a little sorry for the Potions Master. Snape couldn't have refused the challenge - not with half the school watching him. Yes, he felt sorry for Snape, but he was worried for Professor Grimalkin.

* * * * *

Anders stared blearily at his reflection in the mirror. He did not look good, not good at all. A night with no sleep whatsoever, and being violently sick from a combination of alcohol and a sense of impending doom had left him shaky and miserable. Had he REALLY challenged Snape to a Duel?

He was clearly losing his marbles, what few he had left.

After washing his face, Anders felt a little bit better. He had not lost the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach, but was feeling more able to at least stand up without instantly falling down again.

A Duel. He knew that he, as the instigator of this ridiculous state of affairs could not back out of it without becoming a laughing stock, and he knew Severus Snape well enough to know that he would not miss an opportunity to show him, Anders up in public.

He couldn't possibly win against Snape. The man was older, more experienced, and certainly more levelheaded than he was. He was doomed to look like a fool.

Skipping breakfast totally, he headed straight for his classroom. He had the seventh years this morning, and they always made him feel a little better. Most of them were eighteen, only five years younger than him, and they treated him as more of an equal than anyone else. One of the problems Anders had experienced as a teacher, was that half of the time, he was caught between peer groups. He could relate easily to both the students and the adults, and it was sometimes awkward.

He settled in at his desk. The seventh years would surely be less bothered by the impending Duel with Snape than, say, the excitable second years. He was secretly grateful that he didn't have to teach them this morning: he wasn't entirely convinced his poor head would take it.

* * * * *

By 12.30, of course, he was so fed up of people asking him excitedly what spells he was going to cast, that he didn't care any more. He just wanted to get it over with. Let Snape make a mockery of him, accept that he was a fool...and get on with the rest of the term.

He ran a shaking hand over his jaw as he headed into the Great Hall to grab something to eat. A sea of enthusiastic and sneering faces turned towards him and he felt suddenly very sick as he made his way somewhat shakily up to the main table. He noticed that most of the platters were now empty - he had been late into lunch, and apart from Professor Sprout who was just finishing up her meal, there were no other teachers present.

"Sir?"

It was Ron Weasley. Anders smiled. "Hello, Ron."

"Just wanted to say, sir, good luck this afternoon. Oh, and I saw you were late in to lunch, sir, so I - we, that is, Harry and I - we saved you some sandwiches..." He handed Professor Grimalkin a plate, an innocent expression on his face.

"Thank you Ron, that's really kind," said Anders, smiling again. Maybe things weren't so bad after all. He picked up one of the sandwiches absently and bit into it.

"What the..." He swallowed the mouthful of sandwich with a grimace. "How much garlic..." He lifted the bread. "A GARLIC sandwich, Ron?"

But Ron had disappeared again.

* * * * *

Time hurried on as if it were desperate to get there, and it was a very reluctant and sick-looking young Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who walked out of the Hogwarts front doors at ten to one.

Knowing full well just how much interest would be generated, the other teachers made no pretense at all of keeping order in the classes, and simply allowed the students to pour out to gather around what Dumbledore had set up as the dueling arena.

Anders saw, with a sinking heart, that Professor Snape had arrived already. He stood, cool as a cucumber, talking with Professor Dumbledore, who, noting the young Professor's appearance, waved him over.

"You know my rules concerning Dueling, gentlemen," said Dumbledore, sternly. "I will be casting a Protection Charm over both of you before I allow either one of you to put one foot inside that arena. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Headmaster," they both said, eyeing one another up critically.

"I know I am forbidden to intervene in this Duel," continued the Headmaster, "however, I would like to suggest the form which it should take, if I may be so bold?"

Anders furrowed his brow, but Snape looked relatively nonplused."Professor Grimalkin," said the Headmaster. "I know you are currently teaching much about the elements in your classes. As you can see, we have rather a splendid turnout of students to this little debacle..."

~Yeah, like the entire SCHOOL...~

"...and I thought, well, why not make the most out of this situation, and include a little teaching? Tell me, Professor Snape. Are you familiar with the Muggle game, "Rock, Scissors, Paper?"

Anders blinked. He knew that game, but failed to see how it applied here.

"Let us say that I am not, Headmaster," said Snape, in a pleasant tone. "Would you care to explain this to me?"

"Simply, Severus, I would count to three, and you and Professor Grimalkin would hold out your hand to indicate rock," Dumbledore made a fist, "scissors," he held out two fingers, "or paper." Dumbledore put his hand flat. "Now then. Say you held out paper, and Professor Grimalkin held out rock, you would win the round, because the paper can wrap around the rock. You see?" The Headmaster beamed.

"I see," said Snape, staring coldly at Anders. "And scissors beat paper and rock beats scissors?"

"Quite right!" beamed Dumbledore. " Excellent, Severus, very perceptive. Well, let's apply the rules of elementary magic here. Say that you cast a fire spell at the same time Professor Grimalkin casts an air spell. You would win, because the air would feed the flame and make it stronger. This way, you get a good chance to test one another's mettle and perception without getting hurt."

Anders blinked again. He had not expected this. He rather feared that Dumbledore was trying to wrap him up in cotton wool. The Headmaster looked from one to the other. "I say that you play this little game for half an hour - and the one with the most 'wins' at the end of that time is declared the winner, we all clap, and then we can go back in to class. How does that sound?"

"Fine," snapped Snape. "Now can we get this ridiculousness under way?"

"Anders?"

"Yes, Headmaster...sounds...fine to me." Anders was bewildered, but somewhat relieved.

The Headmaster nodded, and, waving his wand, turned first to Snape and then Anders, muttering, "Munimentus!" The Charm of Protection settled over them both, and they walked to separate sides of the arena.

"Now then, gentlemen. Let's put this to the test!"

Anders flicked his wand into his hand in his normal gesture, and Snape did likewise. They stared at each other across the short distance that separated them. The Headmaster shouted out loudly, "One, Two, THREE!"

"Inflammo!" said Anders, sending a jet of flame towards Snape, who had murmured the exact same spell. The two fire spells collided in the center of the arena and disappeared.

"A draw," declared Dumbledore. The students stared at one another. What sort of duel was this, anyway? A few lost interest immediately and went back inside, but the hardier ones could see the sweat on Professor Grimalkin's brow and realised just how much was at stake.

"One, Two, THREE!"

"Aquatus!"

Anders' water spell met with Snape's second fire spell. The two elemental spells danced around one another momentarily, then the water extinguished the fire, and Snape received the equivalent of a bucket of water in the face. Anders smiled.

Snape did not.

"One to Professor Grimalkin!"

A few students cheered.

Anders grinned inwardly. This was going to be easy.

* * * * *

He didn't think so twenty five minutes later when he had been subjected to a number of water, air, earth and fire attacks, muted down by the Protection Charm, but still nasty all the same. On top of which, the constant spell casting was making him tired and it was all he could to do to stay upright. Snape didn't look much better, looking singed around the edges from Anders' fire spells.

With only five minutes of the duel left, Dumbledore declared that the score was still a tie. He was privately rather surprised at the similarity between the logical thinking of the two men. They had mostly had draws, both thinking along the same strategic lines as the other.

"One, two, THREE!" he called.

This time, Snape was the clear winner. Anders didn't even seem to have the energy left to cast a spell, and the fire spell streaked straight across and gave him a nasty jolt.

Smiling slightly, Snape listened with pleasure as Dumbledore added another point to his running total.

Anders was drooping now, and Dumbledore was inclined to call it a day - but Events were about to take a rather dramatic turn. Anders had, he noticed, suddenly stood bolt upright, a vague sort of expression on his face. Dumbledore could make out the words of a spell and a streak of magic shot from Anders' wand towards Snape. Nothing seemed to happen, and Snape didn't even seem to notice.

"Professor Grimalkin? What was that?"

"Headmaster?"

"The spell you just cast."

"My wand was overcharged, Headmaster. I had to dispell. It was from that last air spell. There was residual air in the top of the wand."

It was a feasible enough answer, and Snape did not seem to have been harmed, so the Headmaster simply nodded. He did not notice that Anders had regained his posture, nor did he notice that a faintly evil expression had come over the young man's face.

"One last time, gentlemen," called Dumbledore. "And make it a good one!"

"One..."

// He wants an elemental display? //

"Two..."

// I'll GIVE him an elemental display. The spell you're going to cast is... //

"THREE!"

"ASPHYIXIO!"

Dumbledore started in horror. That was a Dark Magic spell - a spell of attack, a spell that would cause the victim's windpipe to slowly close up, causing slow, drawn out suffocation. Technically an elemental spell because of its kinship with air...but...

"Severus!"

Snape's water spell had splashed harmlessly to the ground - and the Potions Master now lay on the floor, gasping for breath. Dumbledore looked from the figure on the floor, mouth opening and closing like a goldfish to the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher who stood, swaying slightly, at the other side of the arena. He ran first to Snape, casting a quick "Efflum" spell, counteracting the Asphyxio curse, waited until Snape's breathing regulated, then turned to march towards Anders.
"What do you think you are doing?" Dumbledore thundered. "Are you a total idiot, or..."

He broke off, staring into Anders' face. This stranger with the wicked expression was not his great nephew. This lunatic, who was raising his wand and about to cast another spell on Snape was clearly deranged.

"Expelliarmus!" roared Snape from behind him. Anders' wand flew from his hand and Snape caught it deftly. He strode up to the duo and snarled, "What is going on here, Headmaster?" Anders swayed unsteadily from side to side, seemingly in some sort of trance.

The students around the arena were captured totally by this turn of events.

Dumbledore opened his mouth to reply, when something happened that caught both his and Snape's attention. The crystal pendant that Anders wore around his neck, suddenly burst with a bright flash of light - and apparently heat, because the young Professor began screaming in pain and tried to pull the charm from his throat. This was an exercise in futility: it was magically sealed.

"Anders!" Dumbledore started forward as the young man sank to his knees, whimpering in pain and agony. Snape restrained him.

"Let it run its course, Albus," he said, softly. "You cannot stop it."

Finally, Anders ceased his whimpering and pitched forward, headfirst, into the grass, unconscious from the ordeal he'd just undergone, from exhaustion, and, through his own stupidity, dehydration.

The pendant around his neck was now a strange hue of smoky quartz.

Anders Grimalkin had lost the first of his three lives.