Shadow of a Doubt

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Chapter Thirteen
Revelations

"Sixty six "

* DRIP *

"Sixty seven "

* DRIP *

"Sixty sixty "

The voice broke into slightly hysterical laughter. Anders had been counting the droplets of water that ran from the ceiling and hit the ground of the cell, but he hadn't yet been able to count above sixty seven without laughing manically.

"One "

* DRIP *

"Two "

And so on.

He had been doing this now for nearly twelve hours, since he had been brought, painfully silent and trembling like an autumn leaf, back into Azkaban. The representative from the Ministry, a man named Martin Morgan, had stood listening to him with growing levels of mystified horror.

"He's quite mad, isn't he?" said Morgan to himself. "Yes, quite, quite mad. I always knew it was a mistake for the Two and Twenty to let this lunatic out into the outside world. It's such a pleasure to be proved right."

He turned away from Anders' cell and walked to the Liaison Office, where he closed the door, shutting out the sounds of the prison fortress that permeated the walls.

Sitting at the desk, Morgan pulled Anders' file towards him, took up a quill and began to write.

"Subject: Grimalkin, Anders Rhys
Age: 23
Detail: Subject re-admitted to Azkaban following break of imposed parole conditions. Grimalkin has displayed evidence of mental breakdown following his re-admittance, and has neither spoken to anyone other than himself, nor shown any willingness to cooperate."

Morgan wiped at his brow. It was hot in the tiny office, and he was a portly man. He dipped the quill in the inkwell and continued in his anal-retentively neat handwriting.

"As per the rules, subject has a five day grace period for his supporters to present evidence. If this evidence is not forthcoming, the Ministry strongly recommend subject receives Dementor's Kiss as soon as possible. Grimalkin is subject to outrageous mood swings, something which he has continued to display. It is therefore the opinion of not only this representative, but of several Ministers that Grimalkin remains a risk, not only to others, but also to himself. Believe that appeal for Kiss is most humane method for ending this poor wretch's mental torment."

Morgan believed every word he was writing. Despite the glaring evidence he had seen in the rooms where the Soulless resided, he still believed that the Dementor's Kiss was a fast, humane method of putting lost souls out of their perpetual misery. He dipped the quill in the inkwell again and carefully underlined the words 'strongly recommend' several times.

He signed the form with a flourish, and sat back in his seat, satisfied with a job well done.

Paperwork was so gratifying.

* * * * *

"Good morning, Minerva," said Severus Snape, meeting his colleague at the foot of Dumbledore's tower. Both Professors looked weary, and as they climbed the staircase to the Headmaster's office, wished heartily that Albus had taken offices on the ground level.

The headmaster sat at his desk looking even more tired than his staff. McGonagall privately doubted that he had slept at all. He rose when Snape and McGonagall entered, and smiled tiredly at them. "Please, be seated. I have copied out the spell for you both to consider.”

From his corner perch, Fawkes gave a sudden squawk and flew across to alight on Dumbledore's shoulder. "Hello, my friend," said the Headmaster, stroking its head almost absently. "Have you come to lend a little strength?"

The phoenix nuzzled Dumbledore affectionately and, indeed, he seemed to become more alert and less like a tired old man. McGonagall was shocked to realise that she had never before seen him as such. This business with Anders had really quite upset him. On impulse, she reached across and patted his arm.

"This spell, Headmaster," said Snape, scrutinising the piece of parchment carefully. "It is so old that the language has almost been forgotten." Indeed, instead of words, the spell had been written in large runes.

"Yes, Severus. The Shadow Summoning spell is almost as ancient as I am." He managed a smile. "I suggest we try the incantation before we carry out the ritual.”

"Agreed," said Snape, looking more than a little hesitant. "I haven't seen spells this old since "

McGonagall lowered her eyes at the anguish on Snape's face. He never spoke well about his time as a Death Eater, and this must be terribly hard for him. Unusually, she felt sympathetic towards the Potions Master.

"Just remember, Severus. We are casting this spell to save a soul. If we do not succeed, and our theories are wrong, then we will lose Anders forever -- but we will still save his soul. Dark Arts magic it may be - but it is justifiable under the circumstances."

Snape nodded at the Headmaster's words, not raising his head to meet him in the eye.

"Now we practise," said Dumbledore, getting to his feet and pushing open the heavy secret door that led to the ritual chamber.

* * * * *

It was a full hour before Snape and McGonagall felt comfortable with the arcane spell. The ancient language in which it had been written was guttural and tore at the larynx. But they were both determined to get it right.

Whilst they were reciting the words over and over under their breaths, Dumbledore busied himself with chalking the runes that would form the ritual circle. He felt strangely exhilarated. This was real magic, deep magic. Admittedly, dark magic - but there was an odd sense of fulfilment when he finished chalking the last rune.

"We recite the incantation four times," he said. "Then we wait. If Anders' shadow is separate from him, it will have no choice but to respond to the summons. If it is still part of him, then his death will be virtually instantaneous. I just hope " Dumbledore shook his head.

"The real danger is in revealing to Grey that we know his plans, have worked out what he's done. He will seek to kill Anders swiftly. That is what I believe he had planned all along. The death of Olaf Peterssen, the continuing efforts to have the boy sent back to Azkaban -- Grey wanted his son gone. But the shadow will tell all."

McGonagall took her place in the ritual circle and was somewhat disturbed to realise that her heart was pounding painfully in her chest. A Gryffindor through and through, Minerva McGonagall had spent most of her life keeping a respectable distance between herself and the Dark Arts. Yet here she was, about to tarnish that record.

"We are casting this spell to save a soul."

The Headmaster's words came back to her, but did not serve to help her anxiety. If Anders Grimalkin died because of this she had no idea how she would live with the guilt and misery that it would cause her.

As if reading her thoughts, Dumbledore touched her arm, once and smiled. "It will all be well, Minerva. Trust in yourself and we will not fail."

The Headmaster took up his own position and looked up at Snape.

"Are we ready?"

Two heads nodded in acquiescence.

"Then let us begin."

* * * * *

In a small house in the Welsh Valleys, a tall, lanky figure stared in disbelief as its servant disappeared from existence with an audible 'pop'.

"So; it's happened," murmured Edward Grey. "They know."

* * * * *

In a cell in Azkaban, Anders Grimalkin's half-lidded eyes snapped open and he ceased his endless counting. He was silent for a few seconds, then began to laugh, a terrible sound that filled the silence of the prison. He knew with absolute certainty what was going on, and that knowledge was both terrible and wonderful.

"It's happened," he said between laughs. "They succeeded."

* * * * *

And at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, a shape began to materialise within the carefully chalked ritual circle. As the three powerful mages completed their final incantation, the shape unfurled.

McGonagall recoiled. Seeing a shadow detached from its owner was unnatural, but there was something wrong with this one. Anders was twenty three years old, six feet four - an adult.

The shadow was that of a child.

"Hello, Anders," said Dumbledore, gently. The shadow spun in his direction and managed, despite having no features, to look frightened. "It's all right, my boy. None of us here seek to harm you."

~ Who you? ~

It was not so much a voice as an echo of a voice. McGonagall felt tears fill her eyes. Anders' shadow had been separated from him so young. No wonder he was such a mixed up young man.

"We are friends, Anders. Do you know what you are?"

~ Servant. ~

"You do not belong to the master who owns you, Anders."

~ I don't? ~ The wonderment of the child was heartrending and even Severus Snape drew his lips together in something that McGonagall read as anger. ~ Who owns me? ~

"Nobody owns, you, my boy. And when we explain to you what we need you to do, you will be returned to your rightful place."

~ No more hurt? ~

Dumbledore closed his eyes in brief pain. "No more hurt, Anders. I promise. No more."

~ Tell me. ~

* * * * *

Three days passed, swiftly for those on the outside of the prison fortress, but for Anders, they gelled into one long nightmare. In the space of those three days he had withdrawn into his protective shell and had neither slept nor eaten. The guards had looked in on him once or twice and murmured their agreement with Morgan's verdict.

The third day dawned, a spectacular sunrise over the ocean that could be seen from the fortress ramparts. Not that it was appreciated: the Dementors had as much appreciation of beauty as a fish did of a bicycle.

"On your feet, Grimalkin."

Anders uncurled himself from the foetal position he had adopted and stared up at the guard with confusion and complete incomprehension. The guard grabbed his arm and yanked him upright.

Staring straight ahead, wavering slightly, Anders said nothing.

"You are to face the Two and Twenty," said the judge.

Still no response. Anders simply stared ahead, that same vacant, despairing expression on his face, until finally he spoke.

"Does it hurt?"

"Does what hurt?" The guard pushed him forward so that he began walking towards the door.

"The Dementor's Kiss."

"Unfortunately for me, Grimalkin, it doesn't look like you're going to find that out. Not yet, anyway. It seems that old Dumbledore has unearthed something he refers to as 'irrefutable evidence' that will clear your name entirely."

"Irrefutable evidence?"

"Gods, man, are you simple? Yes! Now walk!"

For the first time in the three days since he had been locked into the tiny cell, Anders felt the unfamiliar surge of hope. His uncle had come through. He had a chance.

A sliver of a chance, but even slivers could be rent into gaping tears.

A smile spread across his unshaven, grubby, tearstained face as he walked towards the Chamber.

* * * * *

" so you see, your Honours," said Albus Dumbledore. "Severus Snape and I have researched this phenomenon fully and the boy's shadow has given us all the proof we need that our theories regarding Anders Grimalkin are true."

The head Wizard of the Council Conclave stared down at the chained prisoner in abject sympathy. "Release him from his bonds," he ordered the guard, who, nodding, moved forward and did so. The Head Wizard got up from his seat and moved down to stand by Anders.

"Mr Grimalkin?"

Anders lifted his face to the wizard quizzically.

"Mr Grimalkin, we have a lot to answer for. The wizarding justice system leaves a lot to be desired at the best of times -- but this time we have gone too far. We have cruelly stripped you of your career, your dignity and your freedom. We cannot be forgiven for what we have done, but with your cooperation, I believe we can at least bring the true villain in this situation to the justice he deserves."

Anders blinked back the tears. "I am afraid," he said, simply, his voice thick with emotion. "I am not strong. I have never been strong."

"You must be strong now, Anders," said Dumbledore, stepping up to him. "The only way we can deliver justice to Edward Grey is to make him come forward of his own volition. Searching for him is going to be a pointless exercise. He knows now that we have worked out his plans. He will be coming for you, Anders."

The total fear on the boy's face made Dumbledore's blood boil. Edward Grey had abused and mistreated his great nephew for the very last time. Once this plan was put into action, Anders might stand a chance of reintegrating into wizard society with a chance of a normal life. He put a hand on the boy's shoulder. Anders turned to look at him.

"He is my father." He said it softly and simply, but the confusion and sorrow that the tone held was shattering.

"He is the man who has wrecked your life, Anders."

"He is my FATHER." Anders repeated the phrase, but with a slightly different inflection. "Why?"

"Nobody can understand that yet, Anders. We will know the truth when we find him. And we will find him. You must trust me on this one."

Anders laughed softly. "I always trusted you, Uncle. Always. That's the one thing that's never changed."

"Then together we will solve this riddle," replied the Headmaster, putting his arm around Anders' shoulder. He looked up at the Head Wizard. " With your permission, sir?"

"Yes, you may leave now, Anders. And - there will be a full inquest into this, believe me. Your name will be cleared. We may not be able to give you back that which you have lost - but let us at least clear the path forward for you."

Anders nodded and shook the man's hand. "Let's go home," he said, wearily.

* * * * *

"And of course, I fought the demon," drawled Draco Malfoy loudly. "But it was too strong for me."

He had been released from the hospital wing the day before and had done nothing but boast about his adventures since his return. Very loudly and very vociferously.

It was grating on Hermione's nerves as they sat at the breakfast table, listening to Draco droning on about how heroic he had been and how he had known Anders Grimalkin had been a danger to everyone but himself.

She narrowed her eyes and clenched her hand into a fist. If Malfoy didn't shut up soon, she was going to punch his teeth so far down his throat, he'd be using dental floss on the toilet.

The door to the Great Hall opened and Albus Dumbledore entered, followed closely by Professor Grimalkin. He looked tired and ill, but there was a spring in his step that hadn't been there before. Hermione hardly dared believe that her wishes had been answered.

A silence fell over the Great Hall as all eyes followed Anders' progress to the Teacher's Table.

It stretched on for an eternity, but was broken by Draco Malfoy leaping to his feet and pointing an accusing finger at the young DADA teacher.

"He's a criminal! He should be in Azkaban!"

Several Slytherins cheered him in response, but Hermione noticed with satisfaction that some of the others, including Pansy Parkinson shook their heads and bit their lips. Pansy pulled urgently at Draco's arm, whispering something urgently at him, but the boy was infuriated.

"He tried to kill me! You can't tell me that you're going to let him back here after he did that, are you?"

"Sit down, Mr Malfoy," said Snape, getting to his feet. Malfoy stared at his Head of House.

"I don't believe this! Even you are sticking up for him?"

"Sit DOWN Mr Malfoy!" bellowed the Potions Master. "And forty points from Slytherin House due to your blatant ignorance and disrespect!"

In shock, Draco sat down. Anders glanced across at him and smiled gratefully. Snape looked at him for a few moments, then sat down, not acknowledging the silent thanks.

Dumbledore got to his feet and leaned forward on the table to address the students.

"You have all heard the rumours about our DADA professor's recent disappearance," he said. "Well, the rumours are just that. Rumours. Professor Grimalkin put his freedom on the line in order to save you, Mr Malfoy - and the rest of the school besides. That sacrifice has cost him more than any of you can possibly conceive. But the story is not yet ended."

Hermione listened to the Headmaster's words, but her eyes were locked onto Anders. He was a hero, then. She felt oddly proud of him, as though she herself had brought his fighting spirit out. He glanced her way and shared a shy smile with her. She had always believed in him, and maybe in a way that belief had been responsible for him finding his courage when it was needed.

"We need to bring the perpetrator of the crimes for which Professor Grimalkin has been framed to justice," the Headmaster was saying. "And there is only one way we can see of doing that. It is a risky plan, and will involve help from each and every one of you. I will need three volunteers to aid me in putting the plan into action and prove the professor's innocence. Anybody up for the job?"

Virtually every single hand in the room shot up, apart from Draco Malfoy and some of his more staunch supporters.

Tears came to Anders' eyes at the level of support for him and Dumbledore, glancing over at him, hurried on for fear he might lose control of his emotions. "Very well," he said. "Mr Weasley, Miss Granger -- and Miss Parkinson."

Draco sneered at Pansy, but she ignored him.

"The three of you report to my office in half an hour. Anders -- I believe you have a class to teach?"

Nodding slowly, Anders got to his feet. That same awed hush fell over the room and he lifted his head proudly and spoke.

"None of you -- not one of you will ever understand what this means to me," he said. "But thank you all. I just hope that I don't ever let you down again."

At the Ravenclaw table, Melissa McRobert watched him intently. She would speak to him later, perhaps. He felt her eyes on him and met her gaze clearly and with a newly-discovered confidence that she found just ever so exciting.

Yes. She would speak to him later.