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Disclaimer: Azkaban, Professor Dumbledore and all references
to Hogwarts are very probably the property of those *delightful* people
at Warner Brothers by way of the inimitable J K Rowling. I am not
making a penny from using them as the backdrop to a story written
for my own amusement and that (hopefully!) of others. So there.
email me
at Sarah.Watkins@onyx.net
Shadow of a Doubt
Chapter
Five: Pushing the Envelope
Author's
Explanation: See the Prologue, Innocence Under Fire.
~ ~ ~
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 whole heartedly. 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 moustached 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
light-headed 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.
(c) S Watkins, 2001
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