Shadow of a Doubt

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Chapter Fifteen
Consequences

For long, long moments, nothing seemed to happen.

The flash of green light forced Ron, Hermione and Pansy to close their eyes in horror, and the great dog lifted its head and howled, anguish and despair evident in the chilling sound.

Then there was a silence.

A prolonged, drawn out silence that was truly terrifying in its intensity.

Finally, Ron forced himself to open his eyes, afraid of what he was going to see. But he had to know what had happened to Professor Grimalkin and the dog. He prised his eyelids apart and took in the scene before him.

Both Grimalkin and Gray were laying on the ground, with the dog stood between them, standing over Grimalkin’s body as though he were guarding it. Ron hauled off the Invisibility Cloak and trusting that the dog was, indeed, Sirius Black, turned his attentions to Pansy and Hermione, freeing them from their bonds.

“Are you alright?” he asked, tersely.

“I think so,” said Hermione glancing at Pansy, whose eyes were riveted on the dog in horror. “Ron, is that dog…?” She left the question hanging, not wanting to give away Sirius’ identity in front of a Slytherin.

Ron shrugged carefully. “Pansy, we need to find Professor Dumbledore. Will you go get him?” Hermione’s eyes widened at Ron’s uncharacteristic display of tact and quick thinking.

The girl nodded, her eyes still fixed on the dog. “Is it dangerous?” she whispered.

“I don’t think so. Fetch Dumbledore. As quick as you can.”

She nodded again, and sprinted off in the direction of the castle.

Hermione looked confused and in her own inimitable style needed answers. “But isn’t that your illusion? Where’s Professor Grimalkin?”

“We need to find out something else first. We need to be sure.” He stood in front of her, almost protectively, and she found herself surprised at not actually minding so very much. Ron raised his head boldly and pointed Edward Gray’s wand at the dog. “Sirius? Is that you?”

The dog turned its shaggy head towards him, and with a shimmer of magic morphed into the figure of Harry’s godfather.

“Hello, Ron,” he said, his voice calm but choked with emotion. Then he turned and looked at the dead wizard, and at the body of Anders Grimalkin lying on the ground. “He saved my life,” said Sirius, softly. “That curse was aimed at me.”

Hermione sagged against Ron. Whilst she knew that neither she nor Pansy had contributed much to the actual plan, she had still been caught up in the intensity of the situation. She blinked away the tears that had sprung to her eyes and slid her hand into Ron’s. He squeezed her hand gently and gave her a shaky smile.

Sirius looked well and healthier than when they’d seen him last, but there was a strange manner to his bearing, defensive and slightly uncertain that she’d never dreamed that the ultra-cool Sirius Black could display. She sought to reassure him.

“It’s alright, Sirius,” she said. “That was just an illusion. And it was incredible, Ron,” said Hermione, proudly. “It was so much like Professor Gr…” Ron shook his head numbly.

“That was him,” he said, quietly. “It was the real Professor Grimalkin.”

She stared at him in disbelief. Ron clenched his hands into fists and squeezed back tears of anger and grief. “Do you remember when the illusion briefly disappeared and became solid again? That was him. He broke the link and whilst Gray was distracted, stepped out from under the Cloak to take its place.”

“So it was him who took that beating, and not the illusion?” Hermione was horrified, but then the full realisation of just why Anders had done such a crazy thing filtered into her mind, backed up by a soft voice.

“He had no choice,” said Sirius quietly. “If Gray had tried to touch the illusion, he would have discovered it was not real, and the plan would have been discovered.”

“And is he…” she whispered, looking up at Sirius, afraid to voice the fear that was in her heart. Sirius shook his head.

“He’s just unconscious. He’s hurt, and he’ll have a mighty headache when he comes round, but he’s alive. He did a stupid thing. A brave, selfless thing, but damned stupid all the same.”

“But…Gray cast the Killing Curse! He can’t have survived it,” said Hermione, quietly, in disbelief. “Mad-Eye told us last year that nobody could repel that curse.”

“It was because of his shadow,” came a voice from behind them. Albus Dumbledore stood there, Anders’ shadow, that had been forgotten in the thick of the excitement on his left, Harry standing on his right. The child-sized silhouette let out a cry of anguish and rushed to the fallen body of Anders Grimalkin.

~Make better.~

“Don’t worry. He will recover, little one,” soothed Dumbledore in a gentle voice. “You have done well.” The Headmaster looked up again. “The shadow acted on my instructions and swapped Gray’s wand for a boobytrapped one. Gray did indeed cast the Killing Curse. However, it backfired. Unfortunately, Anders did have to take some of the effects of that, but it is nothing major. Nothing that can’t be healed.”

He stared down at the corpse of Edward Gray and a grim expression crossed his face. “He killed himself with his own spell. That is what I believe is a prime example of true justice.”

Sirius nodded, and Harry stared from him to Anders, realising that both of them knew exactly how justice could so easily be perverted. “What is your involvement with this, Sirius?” asked Harry suddenly, completely confused as to why his godfather had put in an appearance. “Why are you here?”

Dumbledore and Sirius exchanged awkward glances, and then Sirius nodded once, his eyes lowered and not raising his head to meet the enquiring glance of his godson.

“Sirius came here at my request,” said Dumbledore. “When he learned of the full extent and the truth behind Anders’ betrayal, he felt the time had come to put the past where it belongs.” He looked at Sirius again. “In the past.”

“Anders isn’t my great-nephew at all,” continued Dumbledore, quietly. “A cover had to be put in place to protect the innocent in all of this.” He smiled, slightly. “Imagine my surprise when my research of young Grimalkin’s family tree revealed to me that he was, indeed, related to a famous wizard. One whose life has run almost parallel to that of his own child’s.”

There was a long, silence, and then Harry got to his feet and crossed to his godfather. He put a hand on the man’s arm.

“How long have you known, Sirius?” asked Harry, quietly.

“About Anders being my son?” Sirius looked at the unconscious man unhappily. “Most of his life. But Astrid…his mother…was very young…” He blushed slightly. “So was I, really – not long turned sixteen. But that was all about my own foolishness and is, quite frankly, none of your business.”

Sirius rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Anyway, when I left to come back to school, I didn’t know she was pregnant. I tried to track her down, of course, after I left school. It was then I found out about Anders. I did some research into the matter, and briefly met up with Astrid again. She admitted that Anders was my son. But she was determined that she could make things work with this Grimalkin man. She believed him to be a Muggle, and after she had to let me go a second time to fight against Voldemort…she didn’t want any part of the wizarding world that had taken her lover from her.”

Burying his head briefly in his hands, Sirius hesitated. “I loved Anders’ mother very much. Had it not been for circumstances…I probably would have married her. I don’t know why she chose Dafydd Grimalkin…Edward Gray. Maybe he reminded her of me. There’s a physical similarity, but that’s all I can see. Anders is twenty three years old. Twenty three years we’ve been apart.”

He looked up and moved across to where Anders lay, blood trickling from the wounds on his face and from his nose, and crouched down beside him. In such proximity, and with the shock revelation fresh in the air, everyone could finally see the resemblance between father and son, right down to the way that bright tears stood in Sirius’ eyes as they often did in those of his only child.

“I couldn’t hide in the bushes any longer and watch him hurt my son any more. So instead of waiting for the plan to reach its natural conclusion, I tried to intervene. I was foolish. I could have died. But Anders wouldn’t let Gray kill me.” With a whispered spell, he closed the wound in Anders’ head and wiped the blood away gently. “I think it might be too late to reconcile the differences,” he said, softly to Dumbledore.

“Sirius, old friend. When have you ever known defeat?”

The presence of Ron, Hermione and Harry – even the little lost shadow – seemed to be forgotten as the two men spoke, Dumbledore carefully cutting through the layers of anguish that Sirius was building around himself in preparation of the rejection he felt he was going to get from Anders.

“It isn’t a question of defeat, Albus,” said Sirius, heavily, getting to his feet and crossing to the headmaster. “Look at him. The hardships he’s known…wouldn’t YOU be angry if you knew that someone could have taken you away from it all? That your life could have been so much easier?”

“Sirius – you were in Azkaban for so much of his life. What could you have done, truly? What could you have done then that you haven’t done today? In killing Edward Gray…” He carefully avoided Sirius’ eyes, “you have rid the world of one of the darkest wizards, and given this young man – and his shadow…” Dumbledore turned to the shadow who whimpered softly and tried to hide in the bigger shadow cast by Ron and Hermione who stood huddled closely together. “You have given them hope for a brighter future.”

Dumbledore considered Sirius for a long time. “Anders has grown into a fine, strongly principled man, even with the burden of this evil wizard on his shoulders. He is honourable, he is eloquent and artistic, and he has proved his bravery. Don’t regret what is past, Sirius. You know and I know you cannot change it. Accept things the way they are and look forward to the rest of your lives.”

“Professor,” said Hermione softly. Anders was beginning to stir, his blue eyes fluttering open. The Headmaster nodded. “Students return to the school, please. Miss Granger, would you send Madam Pomfrey out here? She has been briefed and is prepared for treating our good DADA Professor. And all of you – thank you for your help in delivering justice.”

Harry, who was still a little shaken from the events of the afternoon, not to mention the recently departed presence of the Dementor, nodded and ushered the others out of the clearing and through the forest towards the castle. Sirius gave him one, tight-lipped smile, and Harry nodded in understanding. For once, Sirius didn’t have the answers. This sudden insight into his godfather as anything other than a fount of all knowledge was earth shattering.

The little shadow cringed into the shade of the trees, but stayed close.

“Headmaster…” Anders tried to sit up, but Dumbledore knelt down and pushed him gently down. “Rest easy, my boy. Madam Pomfrey will be along directly, and you’ve had a bit of a rough evening.”

The young man’s eyes focused on the Headmaster and he managed a lop-sided smile. “I did it, though,” he said, proudly. “I finally stood up to him, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Anders. You stood up to him. He can’t hurt you any more. Well done. You deserve to feel proud of yourself.” Dumbledore patted him gently on the shoulder and sat back on his heels. Sirius helped him up, and Anders’ eyes glanced upwards and furrowed in concern.

“The dog…where did the dog go?”

“That was me,” said Sirius, almost bashfully.

“I saw you…before…the flash…didn’t I? You tried to knock me out of the way…” Anders winced as a jarring pain shot through his head and he shook it to try and clear it. “You were the dog?”

Sirius nodded, unable to speak. Dumbledore glanced up. “I must go and see where Madam Pomfrey has got to. And you, my little friend…” The last was addressed to the shadow, who crept out into the open nervously. “We have to find a way to get you back with he to whom you belong. Come along with me.”

The shadow looked up at Dumbledore in awe, and went to follow him from the clearing, but before it left, it crossed swiftly to Anders and threw its shadowy arms around him in an unfelt hug. ~ Soon,~ it promised.

Only Anders and Sirius remained in the clearing.

“So who are you?” said Anders, trying again to sit up and regretting it instantly. “I apparently owe you my life, so the least you could do is tell me who you are.”

Sirius looked down at his son and sighed deeply. Dumbledore was right. At the very basic level, he owed it to Anders to give the boy a chance at a brighter future. And that meant no more lies, no more deceit.

“Who am I?” he said, finally, kneeling down and, slipping an arm around his son’s shoulders, helping him to sit. “Well, Anders, that’s a long story.”

And he told it.

* * * * *

The following afternoon, Harry headed up to the Hospital Wing to visit Anders. He had something he both had and wanted to do.

Anders had been brought, shell-shocked, back to the castle, assisted by the man he’d just found out was his real father, and was an escaped convict to boot. Yet oddly, he felt no anger or resentment at the truth. Just a quiet regret that had haunted his sleep that night.

As a consequence, when Harry entered, he was sitting up in bed, pale and tired-looking, but with a rare look of tranquillity on his usually troubled face. Sirius was sitting beside him, chattering away in an animated fashion. From time to time, Anders would smile, and Harry knew without any hesitation that Anders was hearing stories of the Marauders. He tipped his head to one side and found himself marvelling at the resemblance. Anders was as like to Sirius as he was to his own dead father.

He coughed, to make the two men aware of his presence.

“Harry!” Sirius jumped up and crossed over to him. “I was just telling Anders all about that episode in the Shrieking Shack, do you remember?”

“Sirius, do you really think I could forget?” said Harry, mock-sternly, a smile on his face. Then he lowered his voice so only Sirius could hear, and the man nodded, turning to bestow a warm smile on his son.

“I’ll be back again later, Anders. I HAVE to tell you about the Marauders Map…oh, and the time Moony nearly killed Snape…and when Peter tried to ask Lily to the dance…”

And Harry ushered him out of the room, still babbling on. As he shut the door firmly behind his godfather, he couldn’t help but smile. Then he turned back to the DADA Professor.

“Professor Grimalkin…”

“Call me Anders,” said the young man. “I gave my resignation this morning. I was never really a proper Professor anyway. It was just a title that went with the job as far as I was concerned.”

Harry tried saying the name a few times, uncomfortable at first with the concept of addressing a teacher – ex or not – by his first name, but then found that the young man’s name came easily to his lips. After all, with Sirius being his godfather, it was almost like discovering he had an older brother.

“Anders, Professor Dumbledore asked me to deliver this to you personally.” He took a rolled scroll out of his robe pocket and handed it across to Anders. The man took the scroll but did not open it. He gave Harry an uncertain smile.

“I am sorry to have been such a disappointment to you this year,” he said. “For a while there, I really believed that I’d be the one to break the famous Curse of the DADA Position.”

“Don’t apologise,” said Harry. “You taught me a lot, Pr…Anders. It’s strange, but for the past few years, I really started to believe that events at Hogwarts seemed to revolve around me. But what happened with you and…with that Gray person…made me start to realise that it’s not so. I mean…I hate the Dursleys, I couldn’t claim otherwise. But…when I think about what you had to go through with someone who hated you so much he was prepared to simply kill you…” Harry shook his head. “All of a sudden, the Dursleys didn’t seem so very bad after all. I might even find it in me to be civil to them this summer.”

Anders smiled, and unrolled the scroll, which he read wordlessly. Then he put it down on the bed. His expression was totally unreadable.

“There’s more,” said Harry. He knew what the letter contained, because Dumbledore had shown him. But this bit…was all his own doing. He got to his feet and crossed to the door. Opening it, he turned back towards Anders.

“They’ve given me my licence back,” blurted Anders, suddenly overcome with emotion. “I can fly again. Legally.”

“I know,” said Harry, softly. Then he raised his wand. “Accio Firebolt!”

Anders stared in confusion as Harry’s broom flew into the Hospital Wing, much to the continuing annoyance of Madam Pomfrey. All she wanted was to run a ship-shape, peaceful Hospital Wing and even that was proving to be impossible.

Harry took the Firebolt in his hand and considered it thoughtfully. “This was the most important thing in the world to me up until yesterday,” he said, softly. “But now…”

He held it out to Anders.

“Now I realise that no matter how badly off you might think you are, somewhere there’s someone who’s worse off. Someone who needs to know he’s got friends. Someone who saved the life of my father’s best friend. It’s yours. I can easily get another one. And like it says in ‘Broomsticks for Beginners’…it’s not the broom that makes a successful flyer, anyway.”

Anders’ fingers closed around the Firebolt and he stared up at Harry. “Thank you,” he said, finally, after what was apparently a long inner struggle with himself. “Thank you very much.”

“No problem,” said Harry, awkwardly. “Should I send Sirius back up?”

Anders shook his head. “Not just yet. I think I might have a little rest now…if that’s OK, Harry? Would you tell him for me?”

“Sure. You take it easy.”

Harry left the Hospital Wing feeling strangely proud of himself.

Left alone, Anders admired the Firebolt for long minutes. Even when Madam Pomfrey came around to check him out and dress his wounds, he did not let go of it. And finally, he drifted off into a deep, restful, healing sleep, his fingers wrapped around the broom.

* * * * *

Before the day was out, Anders had yet another visitor who brought yet another surprise for him.

“Professor Dumbledore!” Anders sat up, his pale cheeks suffused with the first hints of a return to a healthy colour. He gave the Headmaster an uncertain smile. “You haven’t come to ask me to reconsider my resignation, have you? Because I can’t do that…”

“Not at all, my boy. There is something I think that we need to settle.” He held up his arm and Anders followed the line along to the object in Dumbledore’s hand.

The Sorting Hat.

“If you ever had any doubts, Anders, now is the time to put them to rest,” said the Headmaster, sitting down on the bed. “The Hat, as you know, never makes mistakes. But when you were Sorted, it did not Sort you, but Edward Gray. So therefore…”

He held out the Sorting Hat, but Anders put his hand to stop him. “This isn’t necessary, Professor. Maybe I don’t really want to know the truth.”

“You might not,” said the Headmaster, gently pushing Anders’ hand away. “But I know I do.”

The Hat seemed startled, Anders said, afterwards. “This isn’t a student,” it said in his ear. “But I’ve never seen this mind before. Seen one very much like it – oh, so many years ago. And I’ve touched a mind that was mixed with one like this. I never forget a mind, you know,” it added, almost proudly.

Anders held his breath.

The Hat seemed to consider for quite a while. “Gryffindor!” it announced to Dumbledore, who thanked it politely and removed it from Anders’ head.

“Do you still doubt who you are?”

Anders shook his head, numbly.

“No, Professor,” he said, softly. “I think for the very first time in my life, I know who I really am – and do you know what the most important thing of all is?” Anders glanced at the end of the bed, where cards and gifts from well-wishers festooned the covers. Cards from Gryffindor. Cards from Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw. And cards from Slytherin.

“What’s really important,” he said, “is that no matter where you come from, no matter how much you think you can’t change that…when you’re called upon to defend what you believe in…you can work with anyone.”

“Well now,” said Dumbledore, cheerfully. “Fancy you figuring that one out all by yourself!” He got to his feet and picked up the Hat. “There’s one last visitor who would like to see you if you feel up to it, Anders?”

The Headmaster shifted slightly to see Melissa standing in the doorway, a shy smile on her face. Anders smiled back.

“I think I can manage a few moments, Headmaster,” he said, softly.