Chapter 11: Unknown Alliance

A dull throb pushed in behind Harry's eyes from the mere speed of his thoughts. He had enough food for thought from the exchange between Malfoy and his dad, but Parasca also gave Harry a significant look in Azkaban's foyer. Something had happened with Hildegard too.

They boarded the ferry, and Harry was relieved to feel the rock of water beneath them again. The four of them returned to the same booth they'd been sitting in before. As Harry idly studied Malfoy and Ramstad across from him, both looked like they could go for a long kip. Malfoy kept rubbing his eyes as he stared otherwise unblinking out the window. Ramstad didn't seem capable of correcting the bend to her spine.

"Dagmar." As softly as Parasca said it, Ramstad slightly started. "I didn't catch the end of what your mother said."

"Me neither," Ramstad replied. "I couldn't hear her over the guard."

"I didn't know you're a Parselmouth."

Colour rose in Ramstad's cheeks, and her eyes widened. Heat also bloomed in Harry, not of embarrassment but anger.

"You're a Parselmouth," he repeated.

Ramstad wouldn't look at him. Her gaze lingered more toward Malfoy. Annoyance twinged in Harry's stomach to see Malfoy comfort her with a hand on hers.

"Well?" Harry pressed.

"Harry," Parasca sternly said.

"What about it?" Ramstad finally looked at Harry. "So are you."

"You never thought it maybe just a little important to tell anyone?"

"Nei."

"And why not?"

"It's not automatically a bad thing." Ramstad's cheeks darkened further in defensiveness. "I've never used it for anything besides talking to garden snakes when I was a kid."

Neither had Harry, except where the Chamber of Secrets had been concerned. He steamed in his seat, unsure he could handle anymore critical information being dropped on him today.

Parasca took over again, gentle where Harry had been abrupt. "You didn't hear anything at all that your mother said?"

"Well, a little," Ramstad hedged. "Just that this was all far from over. I assume she was talking about Voldemort."

"My father believes the same thing," Malfoy said.

"Do you?" Harry shot at him.

"Harry." Parasca's voice turned sharp. "Take a walk."

Her tone deflated Harry, and he figured that if he hadn't ruffled up Malfoy and Ramstad, they would've found some entertainment value in it. Pride stinging, Harry resigned to leave the cabin. The cold sea air was harsh on his face as he looked back at the receding tower.

The cabin door made its characteristic squeak as it opened. Harry expected Parasca. When Harry glanced over his shoulder and saw Malfoy, he wished a tongue-lashing from his mentor was the case.

Harry looked in the other direction when Malfoy leaned against the railing beside him. If Harry pretended he wasn't there, maybe Malfoy would just go away.

"Get it off your chest, then," Malfoy told him.

Harry considered Malfoy. His expression was set, cleared up now since leaving Azkaban. Loose, wavy hairs brushed against his forehead in the errant breeze.

"Go ahead and say it," Malfoy kept on when Harry didn't respond. "You don't trust us."

"Doesn't help when you keep hiding stuff like that." Harry jerked his head back at the cabin. "You two didn't think it was relevant at all? Maybe just for transparency?"

"Look, I'm sure Dagmar is telling Parasca this right now, so I might as well spare you the wait for when she'll fill you in later," Malfoy said. "When Dagmar and I talked to Dumbledore before our first Order meeting, he told us about how it wasn't certain Erik was Dagmar's father. He said that it also sounded like Hildegard and You-Know-Who knew each other before, which—well, I'm sure you can piece together the connotation. No, Dagmar never told him because she didn't want anyone to suspect that her and You-Know-Who were related. You know why? Because it doesn't matter. Dagmar hates him. She wouldn't go 'oh well then, family is family' if it turned out he was her dad or something. That's something you would think of her, though. Wouldn't you?"

"Maybe, but I would've liked to think it all through before you were Order members, and before you offered your manor up as the new headquarters."

Malfoy threw a hand up. "I guess this is your chance, then. There hasn't been a whole lot going on. You've got time to get over it."

Harry supposed that was true, but it still didn't sit right with him. Malfoy and Ramstad had never been forthcoming. This was an established pattern. Harry never knew anything relevant about them until it either somehow benefited them, or he learned it by accident. How could Harry trust someone like that? He never felt like he was playing with all the pieces of the puzzle, as if Malfoy and Ramstad held a couple in their pockets until they saw a picture of themselves emerge in the grander scheme of things.

"What about what your dad said?" Harry switched topics.

"What about it?" Malfoy's tone remained brusque.

"You didn't answer what I asked," Harry said. "Do you believe him?"

"Maybe—but not the way you're thinking." Malfoy cast Harry a quick look of contempt. "My father really believes what he says, and there might be a grain of truth to it. There always is, when it comes to You-Know-Who. He spent years studying all sorts of dark and ancient magic when he rose the first time. Who knows what he uncovered?"

The idea of it unsettled Harry. He wasn't at all comfortable with not knowing what Voldemort was up to. Up until this, he generally always did.

"Is anyone else looking for Norheim?" Malfoy asked.

"Yeah," Harry partially lied, for he didn't fully know. "Dumbledore has lots of people on it."

"I kind of like things as they are." Malfoy looked at him again. "I don't want You-Know-Who to find Norheim first. All I want—all Dagmar and I want—is to live our life. No more bloody war."

"You're purebloods," Harry replied. "You'd be fine either way."

"Yeah, living under the rule of someone that got Dagmar's dad killed, and who would call the two of us and my mum blood traitors. Sounds like a right good time."

Harry nodded, but he wasn't sure he believed Malfoy. Nothing would ever bring back Dagmar's dad, so it was irrelevant. There would be no such thing as a blood traitor in a hegemonically pure world. Narcissa Malfoy was not only pureblooded but the wife of Voldemort's right-hand man. Nothing bad would ever come of her. Malfoy and Ramstad had no real stakes in this war either. Vengeance, maybe, on Ramstad's part. In the end, that was only a superficial motivation. Once Narcissa came home, Malfoy and Ramstad's interest in helping Harry and anyone else going up against Voldemort would fade. They'd go back to playing neutral.

"Yeah, guess not, hey?" Harry forced himself to go along with it. "I'd say I know what it's like, but I never knew my parents."

"There's no point comparing suffering." Malfoy leaned forward on the railing. "It all just blows."

"You never seemed to mind it all when we were younger," Harry pointed out. "I never seen anyone so excited when the Chamber of Secrets opened and that basilisk was attacking Muggle-borns. Or when Buckbeak hurt you in class. Or when you were feeding Rita Skeeter all that bollocks about me. Or when Cedric died. Or—"

"Okay, okay." Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I won't defend any of that. I will say I felt really stupid when You-Know-Who came back. I didn't think he would. My father said he wouldn't. So saying all that stuff and egging you on didn't have any real consequences besides being an edgy joke. Then—well."

"Yeah, you were a real upstanding citizen after that, getting all cozy with Umbridge." Harry's stomach lurched at the mere thought of her. "You sure seemed sorry."

A sneer pulled on Malfoy's face. "She chose me. I didn't choose her."

"Oh, then, my apologies."

Malfoy snorted humourlessly at Harry's sarcasm. "Oh, come on, Potter. I knew where your little group was meeting."

Harry raised his eyebrows, unmoved.

"Whatever I did with that information never amounted to anything in the end." Malfoy waved him off with a grunt. "I never even bothered to tell Dagmar about it."

It was a convenient story that Malfoy used his position as prefect to run interference, Harry thought. It was even more convenient that nobody could ever confirm it.

"Look, I know you don't trust me," Malfoy kept on. "It'll take time, if it even happens at all. I won't waste my breath trying to convince you. It was my actions that put us at odds in the first place, so it'll only be those that put it right."

"We'll see what happens, when push comes to shove."

Malfoy lifted his chin to better look down at Harry. "I suppose we will."

Harry and Malfoy returned to the cabin. Ramstad didn't look any happier than when Harry had left. Parasca eyed Harry in a way that warned him against any other outbursts.

"Sorry," he struggled to say, since he still didn't believe he should have to apologize.

Ramstad just shrugged. "If I knew my mum was a Parselmouth, I would've told you up-front. It wouldn't have mattered then. I just wasn't comfortable with anyone thinking I had anything that close to do with Voldemort."

"So then you must have known it would be considered a bad thing."

"Well. . .ja. I saw how everyone treated you when the Chamber opened," Ramstad replied. "Before that, my mum had just told me not to make a spectacle of it. Don't draw attention. I connected the dots on that when everything started going wrong in second year."

"Did you ever hear the basilisk?"

"Erm. . ."

"A voice in the walls," Harry specified. "Saying it was hungry, wanted to kill, smelled blood."

Ramstad's eyes widened. "Nei, I never heard anything like that."

Harry nodded mindlessly. "I suppose it didn't spend much time down in the dungeons. Not much for Muggle-borns in Slytherin, were there?"

"A few." Malfoy shrugged. "Prewett's the first one that comes to my mind. She was the only one I knew on a personal level."

Seeing an opportunity to get them off the topic at hand, Harry snatched it up. "Prewett would be a good contender for Captain. Was she who you left as your suggestion to Snape?"

An amused smirk came over Malfoy. "Now Potter, you wouldn't be using your position of authority to try and weigh the scale in Gryffindor's favour next season, would you?"

"No." Harry managed a chuckle, similarly relieved that Parasca grabbed the playing cards and started shuffling them. "Just curious. I'm sure it's no mystery who I recommended to McGonagall."

"Ginny Weasley," Malfoy said right away, and correctly at that. "I guess it doesn't really matter if you know. I put up Astoria."

"Oh, good call."

Quidditch continued the conversation away from the earlier tension that had sprung up. Malfoy had spent enough time with his new coworkers at the dragon reserve to learn that all four of them used to play Quidditch at Kapsferd, Durmstrang, and Ilvermorny.

"There's an amateur league in Bergen," Malfoy carried on. "Our schedule rotation at work is sort of all over the place so we weren't sure about getting on, but the other dragonologists make it work."

"That'd be cool," Harry said. "I don't know when or if I'll get another opportunity to play."

"Only problem for me is no guarantee I'll make it on as Seeker." Malfoy ended his turn in the game with a discard. "I don't know how well I'd be as a Chaser or anything. Definitely not Beater. I don't have the upper-body strength."

"That might change after you've worked at the reserve for a while," Ramstad told him.

"Oh, maybe."

The look they shared after that was brief but enough to cause Harry pause as he pretended to study his hand of cards. Today had been a scattershot of emotions for him, so much so that Harry didn't think he had room left to experience a twinge of envy. Work was his primary focus during the day, but Harry was still quite aware of how quiet and empty Grimmauld Place was in the evenings. Ron listened to a lot of radio lately as the Cannon tryouts for the 1998-1999 season started, which helped. There still remained something vacuous about it. Something was missing. Seeing a couple settle in with each other as life went on made Harry all the more aware of that void.

Harry had to set his personal feelings aside as the ferry approached the mainland a few hours later. He waited for Malfoy and Ramstad as their stymies were removed, and their possessions returned to them.

"Well, it's been fun," Harry tried at a joke.

Malfoy snorted. "Yeah, right. Let's never do this again. Er—unless you need us to, I guess."

Harry nodded. Malfoy and Ramstad returned to London first through the floo connection so that they could head straight to the lifts without being spotted with Harry and Parasca. When Harry made it back to the Auror office, he segued to the break room before taking a seat at his desk. His appetite had returned, and a cup of tea might do well to help clear his mind.

He brought his messenger out of his desk, although paused before opening it. Harry pulled a piece of parchment toward him and dashed down a quick note to Hermione:

Busy tonight? You me and Ron should get together and talk about my trip to Azkaban

Harry tapped it with his wand when he was done. It folded up like an aeroplane and took flight for the lifts. While he waited for a response, Harry started fixing his notes on Malfoy and Ramstad:

Draco Malfoy
Status: alive, living in Bergen, Norway
Born: June 5th, 1980 at Malfoy Manor
Alliances: self, Ramstad, Malfoy family(?)
Connections: Death Eaters (family/background), Dagmar Ramstad (girlfriend/betrothed in summer 1997), Order of the Phoenix (member since Easter 1998), Dumbledore's Army(?)
Concerns: versatile loyalty (self-serving), tends to keep secrets, distance from London might exacerbate these tendencies

Dagmar Ramstad (possibly not birth name)
Status: alive, living in Bergen, Norway
Born: August 15th, 1980 (true date and location unknown but good approximate)
Alliances: self, Malfoy
Connections: Death Eaters (parents joined summer 1995, betrothed to Malfoy so sees Lucius and Narcissa as in-laws), Hildegard and Erik Ramstad (mum/stepdad(?)), Magnus Norheim(biological father?), Voldemort?
Concerns: versatile loyalty, secretive, Parselmouth (through Hildegard)

Harry lingered on Ramstad's concern section. Her mum being a Parselmouth didn't completely rule out a potential familial connection to Voldemort. Maybe it wasn't something as clear-cut as father-daughter, but something else. Salazar Slytherin lived a thousand years ago. That was a lot of generations in between that could've scattered to the wind. It might have something to do with how Voldemort and Hildegard knew each other before Voldemort disappeared.

"Before we wrap up for the day, I wanted to talk to you about what happened on the ferry," Parasca broke the silence between them once she was done with her own notes.

"Yeah. . ." Harry could see that coming. "I shouldn't have reacted like that."

"You shouldn't have reacted at all." Parasca swivelled her seat to better face him. "You should always be calm and collected when conducting Auror business. When you come at someone with this office behind you, you are its face. It doesn't matter what personal relationship or history you have. If it makes you angry, sad—even happy—you wait for a private moment to express that."

"It took me off-guard," Harry said. "I won't do it again."

"I hope we were able to turn it around," Parasca replied. "Draco and Dagmar didn't seem upset by the time we returned to the mainland. We don't know what we might need them for, so we need to make sure they stay forthcoming. If they perceive that they are punished for keeping things to themselves, that might only push them further away."

"Right." Regret squirmed around in Harry's stomach. "Sorry."

Harry still believed that Ramstad should've told at least Dumbledore that she was a Parselmouth. She shouldn't get all the perks of Order membership without having to make it mean something. Yeah, she gave them use of her manor, but it wasn't like she planned on living there anyway. Her offer to fund the group didn't really go anywhere, because they did just fine with volunteers.

Hermione returned Harry's note to say she could swing by around seven or eight if that worked for him and Ron. Harry figured Ron had probably cleared his evening calendar out of eagerness to hear how Harry's visit to Azkaban went.

Sure enough, Ron was up on the second floor of Grimmauld Place, standing halfway out of his room when Harry passed by on the landing. He still wore the same pyjama pants Harry had seen him in last night.

"All right, then?" he asked.

Harry gave his head a half-shake. "Hermione's coming by later tonight. We should all talk about it."

Ron's interest piqued, but Harry didn't want to tell the story twice. Ron mentioned throwing something together for dinner (Harry guessed hamburgers and chips again—not that he complained when he didn't have to cook), so Harry went further up the house to his room to change. He ended up laying down on his bed and closing his eyes, sighing as he went over his day again. It wouldn't do well to forget anything he, Ron, and Hermione needed to discuss.

Harry thought again about what Malfoy had told him on the ferry deck. Something about it didn't sit right with Harry, more than just the timing and that Harry couldn't confirm the story. Malfoy had been holding Harry when Umbridge caught him in his office. Umbridge threatened Harry with the Cruciatus Curse, and Malfoy could hardly contain his excitement. If Harry had thought about it out on the ferry, he would've asked Malfoy to justify it. Or, Malfoy could at least try to.

In Harry's opinion, that wasn't possible. So then how could Malfoy be telling the truth? If Malfoy told an outright lie, then what did it say about the rest of their tentative alliance?

Harry didn't really think that Malfoy was in service to Voldemort. Maybe Malfoy didn't have anything to lose by it, but he didn't really have anything to gain either. Still, concern weighed Harry down through eating dinner. There were huge consequences if Malfoy and Ramstad's loyalty didn't fully lie with the Order. If they only really cared about themselves, then they wouldn't take well to anything the Order had to do that might personally affect them. They weren't accustomed to making sacrifices.

Seven o'clock passed, and Harry quickly grew impatient for Hermione to show up. Harry sighed with relief when she called out from the parlour. He was in the midst of boiling water for tea when Hermione joined Harry and Ron in the kitchen.

"All right?" she asked both of them as she sat down. "So, how was Azkaban?"

Harry thought about it. "Informative."

"How so?"

Harry turned to face them and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Both Lucius and Hildegard seem under the impression that Voldemort will inevitably take over, which, for Death Eaters, is pretty par for the course. I listened in under my invisibility cloak as Malfoy talked to his dad, and Lucius said something about how Voldemort could go ahead with it right now, but it's not ideal conditions. He wants whatever he's looking for first."

Hermione's eyes narrowed in thought. She looked slightly annoyed, and Harry didn't blame her one bit. To not know something so critical was frustrating beyond belief.

"So why doesn't You-Know-Who take over and then worry about what he's looking for later?" Ron asked. "Not that I wanna give him any ideas, but. . .what would the difference be to him?"

"It must depend on what he's looking for," Hermione replied. "Lucius never said what that might be?"

Harry shook his head. "Malfoy tried a couple times to get it out of him, but you know what Lucius can be like. As soon as Malfoy mentioned Norheim's name, Lucius figured out that Crabbe and Goyle's dads came to us. I guess it wasn't much a stretch of the imagination. Rodolphus Lestrange wouldn't have told us anything. Hildegard maybe, but that must go to show how much confidence Lucius has in her not to. I mean, Hildegard had the chance to get out when Kingsley went to her and Erik back in March. Erik died, whether because they're loyal or scared. What're they willing to lose their lives and freedom to protect?"

Hermione pressed her lips while Ron mindlessly fiddled with his fingers on the tabletop. That question lingered in the air like a bad smell.

"Parasca went with Ramstad while she visited her mum," Harry kept on. "She said the two of them didn't get to talk very long. Ramstad went right in on her mum. A guard had to go with them that could translate Norwegian to English for Parasca. At the very end, Hildegard said something to Ramstad in Parseltongue. They're Parselmouths, the two of them."

"Dagmar is?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded. "Confirmed it later on the ferry back. Parasca asked her about it, and she admitted it. Said she never told anyone because she didn't want us thinking she was related to Voldemort or something. Malfoy knew, of course."

Hermione's gaze darted, and Harry could see her trying to justify it. Before she could, Harry went on. "I don't know, guys. I'm having a really hard time feeling like Malfoy and Ramstad are very trustworthy. They're not in this for anyone but themselves. That's why they wouldn't help us until everything fell through with their parents. They were completely content just to let things ride out and then make themselves comfortable in whatever world emerged from that. They're a couple chameleons."

"You can't boil the worth of someone down to what information they can provide," Hermione told him. "How would they have even gotten anything worth giving us in the first place? They weren't Death Eaters. You-Know-Who never told them anything. Their parents never did. That's how they had the opportunity to get out in the first place. You can't blame them for not coming to you right away, Harry. How could they, when they had nothing to offer? Listen to how you're talking about them right now. This is what they're up against."

Harry shrugged.

"They just went to Azkaban with you," Hermione said. "They offered to talk to their parents, and it sounds to me like you ended up with more out of them than Dumbledore and Kingsley were able to. Isn't that worth anything?"

"We didn't get anything concrete, is the thing," Harry replied. "Lucius clamped up as soon as Malfoy started on Norheim. Lucius also seems to think that he's getting out of Azkaban. If that happens, guess what Malfoy told him? He'd gone to Dumbledore out of necessity."

"So what, now you're thinking that's the truth?" Hermione asked. "That he didn't have a choice but to join the Order?"

"Yeah, maybe."

Both Ron and Hermione thought about it in the new silence that fell over the kitchen. The kettle started to whistle, so Harry filled the pot he'd prepared.

"I don't know, mate." It was Ron that replied this time, hesitant. "Malfoy isn't a Death Eater. We have concrete evidence for that. They've both been questioned unknowingly under Veritaserum, so they had no way to put up a defence against it. They're doing exactly like they said they would. They got out of the country. If they made it that far, why would they change their minds? Why keep themselves involved?"

"Malfoy's mum," Harry answered. "Hedging their bets. Take your pick."

Ron and Hermione shared a look that Harry knew all too well as he brought the teapot and some cups over to the table. His stomach twinged again.

"I think it's worth wondering how destructive it could be if the tide did turn in Voldemort's favour," he said. "Lucius knows now that Malfoy is in with Dumbledore. That means he's in with me. Lucius even mentioned me, wondering if I was the one listening in on the conversation they were having. Say Voldemort makes a big move, and Lucius is out of Azkaban. How much convincing do you really think Malfoy would need to tell Voldemort everything he knows about our business? He knows where the headquarters is. He knows who a lot of the members are. He knows what we're doing."

"That's just surface info," Hermione pointed out as she filled the cup Harry slid over to her. "He can't actually reveal Malfoy Manor. You-Know-Who probably knows our member list. If Malfoy mentioned to Lucius already that he knows about Norheim, then he knows what we're up to."

"So then we should probably keep things like that."

"It's not really your choice, though," Hermione said. "The Order isn't our group. It's Dumbledore's. You should talk to him about all this, but if he knows something that contradicts your information, you're going to have to just make peace with it."

Harry grunted. "Well, can I at least trust you two to bounce ideas off of?"

"Of course," Hermione replied with a raise of her eyebrows. "Just don't get upset if we don't see eye to eye either."

"One more thing," Harry said. "Malfoy told me a little story about something to do with the DA. He said he knew where we were meeting, and implied he was running interference or something. Which is a nice thought, but I don't know."

To Harry's relief, both Ron and Hermione looked just as doubtful.

"If he's trying to say he was on our side the whole time or something, I'll say he's taking the piss," Ron said. "He's better off just admitting he got whipped into shape last summer by Ramstad, and didn't have the capability before that to realize how much of a git he was. He had to know You-Know-Who was back after the Triwizard Tournament. How could he not?"

"That's what I thought," Harry replied. "What did he have to gain from helping us? If he's self-motivated, I need to be able to answer that question. I can't. He was excited that Umbridge might use the Cruciatus on me. Sounds more like Bellatrix Lestrange's nephew than a double-agent to me."