Chapter 12: Dirt and Dust

Despite the fact it was coming up on dinner time in Bergen, Dagmar still had yet to feel an appetite. Going to Azkaban had been much more taxing than expected.

Draco followed Dagmar upstairs. While she changed in the closet, she heard a grunt from the bedroom itself. Draco had flopped down onto the bed.

"I'm glad that's over," Dagmar said.

Draco rubbed his eyes. "It won't be over until You-Know-Who is gone. Maybe then Potter'll trust us, but I'm not banking on it."

"It won't matter." Dagmar took a seat between Draco's hip and the edge of the bed. "Once Voldemort is gone, so are the stakes."

"Yeah."

Dagmar ran her hand over Draco's stomach. "Thoughts on dinner?"

"Let me get changed, and we can figure it out."

After a squeeze of Draco's hip, Dagmar headed down to the kitchen. Comfort food seemed like the best idea. Dagmar's first thought was Yorkshire puddings, but she didn't feel like waiting a couple hours for the roast to bake. She had taken out reindeer, anyway. She wasn't sure that would go right in such a classic British dish.

Draco lit some torches on his way into the kitchen. The rain was back. Dagmar listened to it hit the ground and trees outside through the window over the sink. Warmness spread through her as Draco put his arms around her middle. He rested his head on her shoulder.

"What'd you decide?" he asked.

"Finnbiff," Dagmar said. "Pretty quick and easy once all the ingredients are prepared. Would you start cutting up some onion, carrots, potatoes, and mushrooms?"

"How much?"

"At least a pound of potatoes, and go by feel on the rest. We could eat this for a few days, if we make enough."

Draco lingered a little bit longer, watching Dagmar shave the roast. He moved along when Dagmar finally paused long enough for a quick kiss. He dug the ground vegetables for the stew out of the pantry. "So your mum's a Parselmouth."

"Ja." Dagmar sighed, fatigue pressing back in. "Add it to the list of things I didn't know about her."

"It's kind of a good thing, right?" Draco asked as he went to the ice box next. "Now you know where it came from."

Dagmar nodded. "It just opens so many new questions, though. What else has she hidden from me? Will I ever even get a chance to know? The more I learn, the more I miss the days when we were just a normal family. My dad must have known, but I can't ask him. He was willing to die to protect my mum's secrets."

Her stomach had been in knots ever since leaving her mum's cell. The sensation lessened on the ferry after the dust had settled with Potter's outburst, but it started to creep back in on Dagmar as she considered the second part of what her mum said.

"I didn't tell Parasca the whole truth about what my mum told me," Dagmar said. "Mum said something else in Parseltongue before the guard could separate us. Voldemort was protecting us. She said she couldn't tell me what for, but that the Ministry and Dumbledore would rather have us dead. I think that's how she worded it."

Draco's brow was furrowed when Dagmar looked over at him. He mindlessly washed their vegetables under the running sink. "Why would they want that?"

"I don't know."

"That doesn't make sense—well." Draco thought for a moment. "There's that strong possibility your mum knew Voldemort back in the seventies. Do you think if she was working on something with him and Norheim that whatever it is would be worth something like death? Like if the Ministry knew what it was, they would sentence her to that rather than life in Azkaban?"

"Maybe." Dagmar grew uncomfortable. "She wasn't just talking about herself, though. She meant it for me, too."

"Hm."

Dagmar was at a loss. "Whatever it is has to be tied to Voldemort, and Voldemort alone. I'm thinking now about when the Auror office tried to extend a hand to my parents the night Dad was killed. Dumbledore said they considered it before Dad summoned Voldemort. Based on that, I'm really hesitant to say they didn't try and consider a way out. Dad wouldn't have sacrificed himself like that for a maybe."

"So you think it's more than just your parents being scared or brainwashed into believing they had no options?"

Dagmar didn't want to come to that conclusion anymore than Draco apparently did. One side of his face was set in a grimace as he considered her.

"I'm thinking a little deeper on why Dad jumped in front of Voldemort," Dagmar said. "Maybe something bad would've happened to us if Voldemort died."

"My father said something about how You-Know-Who could easily take over the wizarding world right now if he wanted to," Draco replied. "He said it just wouldn't be ideal. He needs something else first, probably whatever Norheim has."

Dagmar returned to shaving meat while she contemplated that. Try as she might, she couldn't make the dots connect on how those two things might be related. Maybe they weren't.

"After Potter's little fit. . ." Dagmar spoke, "this isn't something I want to say, but maybe for now we ought to keep this to ourselves. It's not like it has any real value to them as far as it goes to finding Norheim. They already know how important that is. I'd also like the opportunity to try and look into it more. I should get on about meeting up with Uncle Håkon. He might know something about my mum that could point us in the right direction. He should've known her before 1985. I have a stronger feeling now my mum and dad had to know each other back before Voldemort first fell. My dad had some kind of stake in it all too, if he had something to lose with Voldemort dying."

"Yeah, I mean. . ." Draco didn't look particularly happy to say it either. "It might just come off as alarmist to tell them what your mum said. I also don't want to play with the possibility your mum might have been right. We have no idea what You-Know-Who's been up to. If my father is to some degree right that it's big enough You-Know-Who could take over now if he really wanted to, there needs to be some certainty about what exactly that is. For now, it's just important that Norheim be found."

"Hopefully before they find Voldemort." Dagmar pressed her lips briefly. "If something was going to be triggered by his death, I'd rather not find out what that is."

"That might very well be why You-Know-Who disappeared again," Draco replied. "He knows he's vulnerable."

Not for the first time, Dagmar grew uncomfortable with a sense of gratefulness to Voldemort. Mr. Malfoy had told her after the manor raid that Voldemort always took care of those who were loyal to him. Did this instance count?

For now, Dagmar was content to try and let things go. There was nothing she could do at the moment. Finding Norheim was the best possible route, and they were all working on that. Dagmar could do her part by reaching out to Uncle Håkon. She headed for the owlery when the stew she and Draco put together simmered on the stovetop.

An owl she didn't recognize sat in the owlery. It had a letter attached to its leg, semi-destroyed from when the owl had been caught in the rain. It lifted its leg out, and then took off when Dagmar carefully unrolled the damp parchment.

She returned to the kitchen, stomach knotted for an entirely new reason. "I got a note from Arne. He wants to meet at nine tomorrow morning to go over my Fitness to Practice stuff."

Draco handed her a steaming cup of coffee. "Nervous?"

"I guess, although I don't know what the point would be."

Dagmar just wished she had a full day to recover from her trip to Azkaban before potentially taking another hit. She felt lucky that exhaustion from it helped her get a good night's rest.

Her nerves swelled anew as Draco kissed her goodbye in front of the fireplace. "See you in a bit."

Dagmar followed it up with a tight hug. "Wish me luck."

She wished he could come with her. Dagmar felt a little shaky as she sat in the anteroom outside of Arne's office. Her stomach sunk when the door opened.

Regardless of what waited for Dagmar inside, Arne greeted her with a crinkly smile. "Morning. Come on in."

He gestured at the single chair in front of his desk. Dagmar folded her hands together in her lap as he moved back around to the other side of his desk. Her Fitness to Practice package sat in front of him. It looked like it had been handled a fair deal.

"Well, you certainly gave me a lot to go over," Arne said to break into the conversation.

Since he said it with a tone of jest, Dagmar managed a tight smile. "Ja. . .I just wanted to be as forthcoming as possible. I know my history isn't exactly what you'd call clean, and I definitely believe that the field has to maintain its integrity. If I'm not fit to practice, then. . .I guess that's just how it is."

"Before we go into it, I would like to point out that counselling is a mandatory part of the program," Arne replied. "I'm under no illusions that you or anyone else fresh at the cusp of adulthood will have a perfect background. We were all kids. We all did stupid stuff, and having magical abilities makes that so much easier than if you were a Muggle."

Dagmar nodded in agreement. Without magic, all of the trouble she'd listed in her form wouldn't have been so easily possible.

"There is also your ethics class, first term," Arne continued. "That being said, I appreciate the chance to speak with you about everything you listed, in order to assess the amount of self-awareness you have regarding your actions. As I was looking over your form, though, I started seeing something you perhaps weren't telling me—maybe because it's not something you've realized. You don't know when or where specifically you were born, you're a Parselmouth, and you show an adeptness with elemental magic. What do you think about the possibility you may have descended from a druidic bloodline?"

Dagmar blinked.

"Druids are very secretive," Arne said when Dagmar made no reply. "Even today, they live separately from the magical community at large. They protect their homes and cities from us the same way we hide ours from non-magical folk."

"I don't know," Dagmar told him. "Maybe. I never thought about it. I don't know a whole lot about druids."

"Nobody really does, by design." Arne gave her a small smile. "I can empathize why, on their part. Druids are a type of magic-user that tap into nature for their power. Some are closely tied to the elements. That's why what you did to—" Arne consulted the form, "—Ms. Parkinson stuck out to me as so remarkable. And I double-checked with your original application. You first cast the Heafonfýr Curse wandless."

"Ja."

"When druids enter general wizarding society, their secrecy tends to perpetuate itself out of habit and leeriness," Arne said. "The fear is that their abilities draw attention for their perceived usefulness. Sometimes that attention is the wrong kind. For me, personally, I'm looking at you—looking at this—and I'm seeing something I too could make use of in this hospital. Even without formal training, you can control heart rates. I assume that implies you can monitor them as well."

"I've never tried."

"Would you like to?"

"Like right now?"

"If you're comfortable with it," Arne replied.

Dagmar was still trying to absorb everything. She hadn't come here today intending to have such a large blank in her life filled in. Dagmar had braced herself to be berated and possibly shamed, instead. "How would we do that?"

Arne stood up and came to Dagmar's side of the desk. He gestured for her to stand before removing his wristwatch and setting it down face up beside him. "I'll have you do to me something like what you did to Ms. Parkinson. First try and see if you can tune in to my heart beat. If you can, manipulate it to match the tick of the second hand on my watch."

"Okay."

Under any other circumstance, Dagmar wouldn't be comfortable putting a hand on her dean of medicine. Even now, she was still hesitant, given how using this ability had only ever been detrimental in the past.

Dagmar splayed her fingers across the centre of Arne's chest. She felt something similar to what she'd noticed in-past with Draco. Arne's heartbeat resonated against her palm. If she focused harder, she could feel the rhythmic squeeze of each chamber. A picture emerged in Dagmar's mind of Arne as a whole based on arteries, veins, and nerves. It grew clearer the longer they stood like that.

Trying to be careful, Dagmar shifted her focus to her hand. It had been half a year now since the last time she did this, and she didn't want to be overzealous. The heat and weight of it gathered in her hand, and Dagmar gently moved it from her to him. Arne inhaled heavier through his nose and his heart picked up a little. It remained pure, though, for lack of a better word. There was no adrenaline—no fear.

Dagmar's gaze dropped to Arne's watch. His heart beat was mismatched to the second hand. It was going a little bit faster. Dagmar gradually closed the gap until they ticked in tandem.

The test was successful with that. Dagmar pulled back on what she'd used to manipulate Arne, and removed her hand. She took a deep breath as they studied each other. His growing grin was enough to incite a small smile on Dagmar's part.

"Now that is something else," Arne said. "Your eyes even change."

"Oh?"

He returned to his seat. "I'm very interested to find out how you might flourish in a supportive environment. As far as I can tell from your form here, that ability has only ever been met with misunderstanding. I can see the confusion. Power over nature can translate to power over life and death, which can be conflated with the dark arts. They can be used for destruction, ja, but also in a constructive manner. While things like the Killing Curse have druidic origins, so too do things like apparation."

"How would I learn more about it?" Dagmar asked.

"Unfortunately, I don't know anyone else in your situation," Arne replied. "It's just something we're going to have to figure out as we go. You seem to hold good control over it, as well as a healthy appreciation for how its use can go wrong. That helps me be comfortable allowing it in a clinical setting. So long as any patients we use it on give their consent and are aware of any potential risks, there's no problem. Medical care has always boiled down to that, because absolutely nothing in this field is a hundred-percent certain or guaranteed. We deal with probabilities."

"Right."

This possible connection to that field of magic came suddenly, but there had to be some element of truth to it if Dagmar could use it the way she and Arne had just tested. Dagmar only wished she'd had this meeting before going to see her mum in Azkaban. That conversation could've been a lot more productive than it ended up being.

"So I'm not being booted from the program, then?" Dagmar asked.

Arne laughed. "Nei. You have a gift that this hospital would benefit greatly from. I will say that because of the fickle nature of it—and with your history of using it in mind—you will be watched closely. I'll inform your councillor about all this, and I think until it becomes applicable in the practical half of the program, we should keep it between the three of us. Oh—and Ingrid, I suppose. She ought to know."

"Whatever you think needs to be done." With her next exhale, Dagmar released all the tension she'd arrived at Olaf Kyrre with. "I'm okay with any of it. I'm just glad you don't think I'm not fit for the profession."

"Not that it's really quantified and recorded, but there is a strong druidic history in Norway. This area in particular is rich with it, considering how wild the southwest coast used to be. Bergen wouldn't even be here if druids hadn't laid a path for other types of magical folk to settle. This isn't the kind of magic you just forget about. It's in your blood, like your ability to speak Parseltongue. You might as well harness it for good, lest you find other outlets. . .like you have been."

Dagmar didn't expect to feel so light when she left the hospital after her meeting with Arne concluded. She couldn't wait to get home and tell Draco about everything she'd learned.

When Dagmar apparated onto the garden porch, the wind blew rain in underneath the roof. She stepped quickly into the cottage. It was warm with the fireplace going. Draco sat on the love seat under a blanket with one of the books about dragons he'd bought in Trollmannsgaten. Heimdall was beside him.

"I'm still in," Dagmar said before Draco could ask. "What a relief."

"You're promising enough to give a chance, or what's the deal?"

"Well. . ."

Dagmar slipped her shoes off and joined Draco on the love seat. She mindlessly pet a purring Heimdall as he wormed his way across her lap. Draco listened as Dagmar recounted her meeting with Arne.

He studied her when she finished. "How do you feel about it?"

"Good, I think," Dagmar replied. "If it's true, so much makes sense. Maybe my mum didn't appear until 1985 because she was still living with other druids somewhere. She wouldn't have gone to Kapsferd because druids probably don't go to school like that. If druids are closer to nature than general wizarding society, then they more likely speak languages like animals would, like Parseltongue. I've always felt like there's something wrong with me, but maybe there actually isn't. Maybe I'm just different."

Draco tilted his head in thought. "I remember you saying back when you first told me about it that you felt it was something you might pass along, if you ever had kids."

That burden coming off Dagmar's shoulders brought tears to her eyes. "I guess maybe a part of me knew all along about this. I just didn't have a way to put it into words. I wish my mum had told me. It would've spared me a lot of time feeling bad about myself."

"You might get a chance to ask her, if we ever go back to Azkaban."

"Ja." Dagmar relaxed further as Draco put an arm around her. She leaned against him. "At the same time, I don't think it'll change anything about how open she is. She's been this secretive my entire life. Why would she change now? Especially if that's just how druids are."

"I wonder why she left the druids in the first place."

Dagmar pressed her lips in thought, playing with one of Draco's hands. "She would've left with me, is the thing. I would've been born while she was still there. That might give me one answer about my dad being my actual father. He wasn't one of them."

"Could be that's why she left." Draco shrugged. "She could've had you with him, and if your dad couldn't live with the druids, she had to leave all that behind if they wanted to be together."

"Maybe, but I'm at least prepared if that's not the truth."

Dagmar snuggled up closer to Draco. This morning had left her all over the place emotionally. She wasn't sure where to settle, whether she should be excited or concerned.

She frowned as her thoughts returned to the conversation they had the previous evening. "Do we inform the Order?"

Draco hummed. "It would clear up a lot about any suspicions they've had of you. It would be a real explanation for where being a Parselmouth came from, although I would brace for the possibility Potter is still paranoid about it."

"Arne said druids have always been secretive because their abilities are looked at for how they're useful. They've given us the ability to end life, and look how abused the Killing Curse can be. They gave us the ability to move through air without actually passing through the space between—apparation. I could see how it might be useful to the Order. My concern is what my mum said, that Voldemort was protecting us. If they knew each other before, back when my mum was still amongst the druids, I wonder if Voldemort found some use for that power as well."

"Maybe it has something to do with why he was able to come back after his run-in with the Potters."

Dagmar was torn. This could be helpful in understanding what Voldemort was looking for. Draco made a really good point that Voldemort might have already dipped his toes into this field of magic.

"With this is mind, could my mum really be right that Voldemort was protecting us?" Dagmar asked. "I think if he was, it might have been some kind of tit-for-tat. You teach me this magic, and I'll make sure you have a place in the new world."

"If druids are so secretive about their powers, why would your mum teach him anything in the first place? She's a secretive person, so why wasn't that where she drew the line?"

Dagmar couldn't answer. She pressed her lips instead while she thought.

"Maybe we ought to tell the Order just about the druid stuff," Dagmar said. "They might know something we don't. I have a really hard time believing that the Ministry or Dumbledore would actually want us dead. For what? Even then, the British Ministry can't get us here. I want to believe that Dumbledore would stick up for us rather than kill us. That doesn't make sense at all."

"We do know him better than your mum would," Draco conceded. "I don't know. Do you want to risk it?"

"I'd rather try to get help to sever all ties with Voldemort," Dagmar replied. "Maybe it's not by blood, but there's still something there."