Shadow of a Doubt

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Chapter Sixteen
New Beginnings

The term rolled swiftly towards its end, with concentration finally allowed to shift from the excitement of Anders Grimalkin to that of OWLs. For the first time in her life, Hermione seemed to crack under the strain of the studying, and discovered that Ron possessed a new-found air of dignity and support. They had been spending a lot of time in each other’s company, actually, just as Harry and Ginny had apparently been doing something similar.

Hermione mused on this as she sat now in the last Defence Against the Dark Arts lesson of the term. Despite handing in his resignation, Anders had fulfilled his obligation to complete the year.

Currently, he was engaged in discussion with Neville Longbottom.

“Come on…you DID promise, sir,” said Neville, with a hint of a whine in his voice. Anders smiled at him and theatrically rolled his eyes.

“Oh, alright then. As it’s the last lesson of the term, and because you’ve all handed in such good papers…”

Waving his wand, he conjured up the now-famous illusion of Neville Longbottom fighting the fire demon. The plump boy puffed up with pride and watched the scene unfold with untold pleasure on his face that gave Anders a warm feeling from top to bottom.

When the illusion, and the consequent applause died into nothing, Anders glanced around at the class. He’d just taken in the last paper from the Defence Against the Dark Arts OWL examination, and a perfunctory glance through had told him that not a single student had failed.

Not in Gryffindor, anyway.

“You are all aware,” he said, his voice soft and making no attempt to cover the emotion he felt at the subject, “that I will not be returning to teach you next year. However, it will be my absolute pleasure to pass on the records of those of you who remain for your NEWTs to the new teacher. You are all exceptional young people…” His eyes passed briefly over Hermione, Ron and Harry as he said this, and he smiled. “And you all deserve the wonderful grades I am sure you are going to get.”

Parvati Patil raised her hand. “Sir, are the rumours true?”

“Which ones, Parvati? I’ve heard at least seven since I came back to class.”

“The one…about your new job. Are you really going back to professional Quidditch?”

There was an excited murmur which rippled through the class like a wave. Many things had been whispered about Anders Grimalkin’s future, and this was the one that had fired their imaginations the most.

Anders exchanged a glance with Harry, who winked at him and shrugged helplessly. “Yes,” he said, eventually. “The Welsh team – AND the Swedish team have approached me with offers. And I think I’m going to take the option to go to Sweden.”

His eyes settled on Ron, who looked mildly disappointed. “That’s just for internationals, of course,” he said, softly. “Some of you might be interested to know that just this morning, I accepted an offer to play league with the Chudley Cannons.”

The expression on Ron’s face was worth more wealth than Anders could ever have imagined, and that included the rather handsome sum he’d received as compensation from the Ministry of Magic.

It was thus lost in his own thoughts, therefore, that he didn’t notice the enthusiastic cheering and clapping until half the class were on top of him, thumping him on the back.

* * * * *

He sat outside later that day, by the lake, watching the giant squid surface and bask in the sun for a few moments before disappearing to the depths of the water. He became aware he had company when a soft voice from behind him spoke his name quietly.

“Hello,” he said, inviting the newcomer to take a seat next to him. “How are you?”

“I’m fine,” she said.

A pause.

“How are…you?”

“I’m very much better than I was, Pansy. Thank you.” He took a long draw on the cigarette he was smoking before addressing her.

“I was glad your transfer came through. When do you start at Beauxbatons?”

“At the beginning of the new term. I just…thought it was best.” There was no bitterness in Pansy’s tone, only the same change of attitude that now so marked Anders. The attitude of one who has finally truly discovered who they are.

She drew circles in the dust with her finger. “I realised that just because I had been Sorted to Slytherin House, didn’t mean that I had to be like…them. I just followed them at the time because it was the easy option. Slytherin is about ambition – not about sheer bloody-minded nastiness.” She smiled, a little sadly. “They call me the ‘Gryffindor Groupy’ now.”

“Let them call you what they like,” said Anders, defensively. “I’ll never be able to thank you enough for what you risked on my behalf. And if it’ll make you feel any better, Crabbe, Goyle and Malfoy came last in their DADA exams. Too much time plotting and not enough time studying.”

They shared a grin and Pansy got up to leave. Anders smiled up at her. “If I don’t get another chance to speak to you before the end of term…” He didn’t say anything.

He didn’t need to.

* * * * *

“Hello, Ron.”

He had been studying in the library, much to the surprise of everyone, including himself. At her approach, however, he put down his book and smiled.

“Fancy meeting you in here.”

“You aren’t the only Weasley who likes to actually do some work from time to time,” admonished Ginny, sitting down by her brother. “How have you been? It feels like such a long time since we had a chance to chat.”

“I’ve been doing brilliantly, Ginny. And from what I’ve seen of you and Harry lately…” Ginny blushed furiously and smiled at her older brother.

“Only the same as you and Hermione,” she said, sibling rivalry kicking in.

They spoke together in low voices for a while, Ron suddenly having discovered how nice it was to have a younger sister to confide such intimacies in, and she likewise discovering for the first time that Ron had a use beyond being blamed for some catastrophe in the Weasley household.

Finally, Ginny revealed her true reason for seeking him out. “I heard about what you did for Professor Grimalkin,” she said. “I just wanted to say…well…how proud I am of you. I knew you were the best brother a girl could ever want…well, alright, with the exception of Bill, perhaps, but…I just felt you should know that every girl in Gryffindor thinks that you’re the coolest.”

She pecked him on the cheek and left the library.

Ron puffed up so much with pride that when Hermione came in a few moments later she had to double-take, thinking that Ron had left and been replaced by Percy in full Head-Boy mode.

* * * * *

“Professor. I trust this is not an inappropriate time to disturb you?”

Anders glanced up at the entrance into the DADA classroom and put down his quill. “Professor Snape. No…uh…not at all. Take a seat.”

Snape sat down with a surprising amount of quiet dignity, his eyes fixed on the young man he’d so distrusted all these years. Anders looked back at him, almost shyly.

“I owe you an apology, Grimalkin,” he said, eventually. “I may not like you very much for reasons of my own, but I feel it only fair to explain to you that I was always a part of Dumbledore’s plan to reveal your father for who – and what – he was.” Anders winced to himself. It was evident that Snape was not privy to the information regarding Sirius Black – but then, after the tales Sirius had happily been telling him of the exploits of the Marauders…this was probably an entirely good thing.

“It’s alright, Professor,” said Anders, carefully assessing his words before he spoke. “I guess there’s just a part of me that wishes I could have my life over again. We might not have got on any better…but I also might not have flunked my Potions final.”

The faintest hint of a smile twitched Snape’s mouth upwards. “You would have failed anyway. I still have that paper in my drawer as one of the most badly written – and I’m NOT just talking about that dead spider handwriting of yours, Grimalkin – and poorly researched papers that have ever crossed my desk. And you should consider that flattery. I burn most of the others. Yours, however…makes me laugh.”

Anders couldn’t help grinning at the thought of Snape actually laughing, something he found virtually inconceivable.

Snape got to his feet. “You may or may not have heard the news,” he said, “but Dumbledore has yet again denied me the opportunity to apply for your job.”

Anders nodded. “I know,” he said, his voice full of sympathy. “I think you should know that I actually recommended you.”

Snape’s sloe eyes glittered and there was a long pause. “I know.”

Anders smiled at him, nervously.

“Goodbye, Grimalkin.” Snape hesitated as though he would add something else, then shook his head and left the room.

“See you, Slimeball,” murmured Anders affectionately, feeling a strange pang of sadness at the farewell.

Sometimes it was even difficult to say goodbye to your enemies.

* * * * *

The Feast that night was a particularly happy affair for everyone, even Anders, who kept finding himself filling up with tears. After one close call when Professor Vector had said how much he’d be missed and had patted him almost affectionately on the arm, Anders finally got control of his emotions and let himself relax.

Draco Malfoy shot him occasional dark looks, but even they could not detract from the light feeling in his heart. Yes, he was sad to be leaving. He’d become quite attached to Hogwarts again. But he felt he’d learned more as a teacher than he’d ever learned as a student.

And he’d gained a father, to boot.

Sirius wasn’t present at the Feast for obvious reasons, and Anders actually found himself missing the constant chatter of his father’s clumsy attempts to win Anders over with sheer force of personality. He didn’t need to. Anders had felt immediately drawn to the man, their relationship notwithstanding. There were too many similarities, too much they had in common for Anders not to feel the need to further the relationship.

He pulled himself back to the present, where Dumbledore was announcing the House Points for the year. It seemed that, yet again, Slytherin and Gryffindor tied for first place, but this time, there was no attempt to award last minute points to either house. For once, the equality was let alone. The decorations switched to half green, half red, and the evening continued.

He disappeared outside, halfway through the evening and stood alone on the steps, the slight summer breeze catching his loose hair and lifting it until it fell into his eyes. He reached to push it out of the way, but felt a gentle touch do it for him.

“Walk with me?” said Melissa, softly.

* * * * *

The morning dawned sunshine bright and perfect for the journey home. Hermione shoved the last of her books into her trunk and mooched down to breakfast, feeling the impending loss of Professor Grimalkin keenly. He was sat up at the teacher’s table, chatting to Professor Flitwick, and with a strangely familiar expression on his face. Hermione slowed down as she neared him and examined him closely. Yes…she knew that expression.

Professor Grimalkin was in love.

She felt a mixture of happiness and jealousy at this and blew a lock of hair out of her eyes irritably as she sat down next to Ron, who gave her a noisy kiss on the cheek. “Did you see who Professor Grimalkin was outside with last night?”

Startled, she wondered if Ron was reading her thoughts, and she narrowed her eyes at him suspiciously. “Who?”

“Melissa McRobert. Y’know. The seventh year Ravenclaw that Seamus Finnigan fancies?”

Seamus, who was sitting opposite them, threw a bread roll at Ron, who retaliated with a cheerful spoonful of marmalade.

“Melissa? Really?” Hermione turned to catch a glimpse of the girl sat at the far end of the Ravenclaw table, that same dreamy-eyed expression on her face that was so obvious on the face of Anders. “That’s…nice. I hope they’ll get together. She’s officially graduated now, and he’s no longer teaching…”

She was more than glad. For a while, she’d harboured an uncertain fear that Anders might try to track down his old girlfriend, Charis, and patch things up. This at least put paid to that fear.

“S’funny,” said Ron, nimbly ducking to avoid a sausage that Seamus had flipped at him. “I spent all year thinking that YOU were going to end up falling for him.” Hermione sat bolt upright, a hot flush creeping onto her face.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, come on! You fancy him like mad, don’t you?” He threw a piece of toast like a Frisbee towards Seamus.

“Ron! I do not!” She sagged and smiled sadly. “Well…alright. Just a little. But I would never have acted on it. He’s too old for me. There’s someone a whole lot closer to my own age that I’ve already decided to ask to come visit over the holidays.”

“Really? Who?”

“Oh, Ron Weasley…” Hermione took Ron’s freckled face in her hands and went to kiss him at the exact same point Seamus decided to throw a full plate of scrambled eggs at Ron.

“Sorry, Hermione…”

* * * * *

With breakfast out of the way, it was time to head out to catch the train back down to King’s Cross. Hermione had tried to catch Anders on his own for a few moments, but the young teacher had been surrounded by well-wishers and she’d not been able to catch him. As she walked down the platform, arm-in-arm with Ron, and with Harry close behind, she felt particular sad that she hadn’t been able to say goodbye.

“Harry!”

The voice held the unmistakable Welsh lilt of the man at the foremost of her mind and she and Ron turned to see him running down the platform to catch up with them. “I’m so glad I managed to catch you before you left,” he said, breathlessly. He smiled at Ron and Hermione, shyly. “I haven’t had a chance to thank any of you properly for all you’ve done for me this year.”

“We’re just glad you’ve found a bit of happiness at last, sir,” said Ron, glancing at his friends, who nodded in agreement. “And that you’ve been reunited with Si…uh…Snuffles.”

“Snuffles?”

Harry whispered something in Anders’ ear and the young man grinned broadly. “Oh, right. Snuffles. Yes…well, if he doesn’t bend my ear off with more stories about James Potter – no offence, Harry - before the end of the day…we might be able to make plans to catch up on a lot of missing years.”

He glanced up as the station master starting calling out for all students to board the train. “I guess…this is goodbye, then,” he said, rubbing his nose a little sadly. “Well…goodbye, all of you. Good luck with your final two years, and…stay in touch.”

He shook Harry and Ron’s hand vigorously, and ruffled Ginny’s hair, which made her blush under her freckles.

Then he turned to Hermione.

“You believed in me all year long,” he said, softly. “And for that, there are no thanks that are enough.”

“It was nothing, sir, really,” said Hermione, shyly. Harry and Ron had, by now, boarded the train along with Ginny and were off down the corridor, looking for somewhere to sit. Suddenly, impulsively, she flung her arms around him. He blushed furiously, but returned the hug, regardless of the fact Ron and Harry were knocking on the window of the train and laughing.

“Thank you, Hermione,” he said, softly. “Have a good summer.” He suddenly seemed to recall something. “Here – I meant to give this to Ron. Would you pass it on for me? Well, it’s for all of you, really, but…well…” He thrust his hand into his pocket and held something out to Hermione, which she took and glanced down at.

A wide smile crossed her face, and she gave him another hug. “Stay in touch, sir…I mean, Anders.”

“I will. I promise.”

She got on board the train and Anders stepped back, watching as she took her place next to the window with her friends. She seemed to say something, and handed the gift to Ron who stared down at it.

Anders smiled as he watched the word ‘Brilliant’! form on Ron’s lips. The red-haired boy pressed the Chudley Cannons season ticket up against the glass and yelled ‘THANKS!’ through the window as the stationmaster blew his whistle.

“You’re welcome,” said Anders, softly. “All of you.”

As he stood there, watching the Hogwarts Express pull out of the station, he wrapped his robes around him. He knew that things were going to work out. With Melissa, with his newly-discovered father…and even the rest of his life.

He knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt.

Unconsciously he turned to check that his shadow was still with him, and it waved at him from the ground where the noon-day sun cast it. Smiling, Anders walked away from the station and towards the figure standing at the end of the platform.

There was twenty-three years catching up to do with Sirius Black, and only a finite time to do it in. So many opportunities.

So little time.

The End of the Beginning