CHAPTER 8

Theories of Relativity

Harry and Ron walked with Hermione as far as the library, where she intended to spend the time before dinner studying.

"How about a game of wizard chess before dinner, Harry?" asked Ron. Harry shook his head.

"Can't. Professor Lovejoy wants me."

"Yeah," snorted Ron. "In your dreams." Harry flushed and swatted at him.

"No, you idiot. She wants to talk to me about something." He hesitated, not sure how much to say, and decided to wait until later to tell Ron about it--when there was more to tell. "See you at dinner?"

"Okay, then," said Ron, and he wandered off toward Gryffindor common room. Harry continued up to Professor Lovejoy's office, eager to learn what it was that she knew about him.

He knocked on her office door, which stood ajar. She bade him enter in a cheerful voice, and he pushed the door open further. The office, like the classroom, had had all signs of its former occupant thoroughly erased. Harry relaxed a little. It was a pleasant place to be on a stormy afternoon--a small, crackling fire in the fireplace, a vase of fresh flowers on the mantelpiece, an ancient, somewhat dilapidated velvet armchair and sofa, and a thick, plushy carpet that certainly had not been there during the tenure of any of the previous Defense Against the Dark Arts teachers Harry had known. It was comfortable but not ostentatious.

Professor Lovejoy sat behind her desk correcting essays. Harry was surprised to see her wearing a pair of spectacles perched on the end of her nose. He hadn't seen any sign of them in class. She waved him over to the sofa.

"Please, have a seat. I'll be done here in two shakes. Just...there! Good." She wrote a grade at the top of the last essay, then laid her quill aside and waved her wand over the parchment, causing it to roll up with a snap. She removed her spectacles and put them in her desk drawer, then came around to sit in the armchair.

"Quite cozy, isn't it?" she said, watching Harry sink comfortably into the depths of the sofa. "You wouldn't believe the awful stuff the last teacher had in here. Not a comfortable chair in the lot." She tucked her legs under her and propped an elbow on an arm of the chair. She gazed at Harry for a moment, a wistful look on her face. Then she laughed. It was the kind of laugh that made you want to join in. Harry relaxed a bit.

"Oh! Dear me," said Professor Lovejoy with an embarrassed chuckle. "I suppose you're wondering what I wanted to see you about." Her face became quite grave.

"Tell me, Harry. What do you know about your family--your mother's family?" she asked. Harry was puzzled. He wasn't sure what he had expected, but it wasn't this.

"My mother's family?" he repeated. Professor Lovejoy nodded encouragingly. He shrugged. "Well, she has a sister. Petunia Dursley. That's who I live with," he said flatly, "my aunt and uncle and cousin. They're Muggles. My mother's parents are still alive, Martha and Edward Evans. They're Muggles, too." He paused. "That's it, I guess. What else do you want to know?"

Professor Lovejoy was staring into the distance. "So Father was right," she said to herself. "She never told them." Harry sat silently, mystified.

"Sorry, Harry," she said. "I suppose I should have expected this. Well--what would you say if I told you they weren't the only family you have?" She sat back, watching him with the air of one who has just pulled the proverbial rabbit out of the hat. Harry just stared at her. At last he spoke.

"Do you mean--Sirius Black?" he asked faintly.

Professor Lovejoy shook her head, smiling. "No, not Sirius--although I understand he was just like family to your parents. I was so sorry when I learned he was gone, Harry. But no--I'm not talking about Sirius. I'm talking about me."

Harry looked at her inquiringly, not understanding.

"You?" he asked blankly.

"Yes, Harry. I am your aunt. Well--half-aunt, really, I suppose, to be precise. I am Lily and Petunia's half-sister. We have the same father."

"Grandfather Evans?" Harry asked. "He's your father?"

"Oh my, no," said Professor Lovejoy. "Actually he isn't Lily or Petunia's father, either, except on paper. He adopted them when they were tiny," she explained. "He and their mother never let on that he wasn't their real father. That was the way she wanted it, you see. Father says she had too much pride to stand having everyone know he, her first husband, had left her. My father is Archibald Lovejoy. He's Lily and Petunia's real father, and Martha's first husband." She paused for a moment to let Harry absorb this new knowledge, then continued.

"Martha is a Muggle through and through, but you see, she'd always been fascinated with magic. I shouldn't wonder if there wasn't a witch or wizard somewhere back in her family tree," she mused. "Still, she has no magical ability at all, herself. She met my father quite by accident one day outside the Leaky Cauldron. She was wearing extremely high heels. One of them caught in a grate, and she had a bad fall.

"Father was just coming out of the Leaky Cauldron and he helped her up. Her knee was bleeding quite badly. He was hesitant to take a Muggle into the Leaky Cauldron, but there wasn't much else he could do--he couldn't just leave her injured on the sidewalk. So he carried her inside and got Tom's wife to patch up her knee. Martha was thrilled when she realized the inn was a gathering spot for witches and wizards. It was like a dream come true for her.

"Anyway, Father was rather taken with her, and they began--well--courting, I suppose you'd say. He liked that he could be himself with Martha and not have to hide his magic from her, and she was full of admiration for everything he accomplished by magical means. I don't know that there was really ever much more to their attraction than that, but they didn't realize it until it was too late.

"They got married and had Petunia before a year was out, and Lily barely a year after that. Petunia never showed any signs of magical ability, but your mother did from the time she was very small. Your grandmother was delighted, of course--it was rather like having a new toy to play with, I should think. While she was the only child, Petunia got all her mother's attention; but Father felt she became somewhat neglected--the old, cast-off toy, if you will--after your mother's abilities became obvious."

Harry nodded with sudden insight. "I suppose that explains a lot about Aunt Petunia," he said thoughtfully. Professor Lovejoy smiled gently at him.

"Exactly, Harry. There was definitely a lot of favoritism shown to your mother," she said. "Something else was bothering Father, too: Martha's jealousy over his magic. She was all Muggle, not a spot of magic in her. But she had a very difficult time accepting that it would always be that way. She drove Father to distraction, asking him to teach her this spell or that charm, or begging for a wand for her birthday. He tried telling her that in Muggle hands a wand would be nothing more than a useless stick of wood, but she insisted. And was mad with disappointment when she inevitably had to accept defeat.

"Finally, Father felt he had no choice but to leave her. They went through an actual Muggle divorce, so Martha could remarry if she chose. Father left Lily and Petunia with their mother, for the simple reason that she threatened to expose him as a wizard if he took them. She met Edward Evans soon afterward; they married and moved away from London to a small town in Surrey, and she imposed the further condition that Father never contact the girls again. Martha intended them to know only Edward as their father. Father wasn't happy about it, but he felt he had no choice. He probably could have performed a Memory charm on Martha so she would remember nothing, but...he chose not to."

She fell silent and watched Harry as he stared into the fire. He transferred his gaze to her and looked intently into her eyes. She met his look quizzically.

"I don't see much resemblance," he said finally. She laughed.

"Nor do I. But then, Lily and Petunia didn't share much family resemblance either."

"So where did you come from, then?" Harry blurted, and immediately felt like an idiot. "I mean--who--"

Professor Lovejoy was laughing outright now. "I know what you mean," she chuckled. "A few years after Father left Martha he met a very nice witch by the name of Merryweather Windham and married her, and in due course," she grinned at him, "along came little Trillium. You may have noticed my father's fondness for flower names--Petunia, Lily, Trillium. A bit old-fashioned, perhaps, but I like it."

"There's a girl in Slytherin named Pansy," Harry volunteered. "Pansy Parkinson. But I've never met anyone who reminds me less of a flower." Professor Lovejoy, envisioning Pansy's unlovely pug-face, appeared to choke on something, but recovered quickly, her hand over her mouth.

"Ah, yes. I've met Miss Parkinson. I know just what you mean." They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"So how come you know all this if your dad was supposed to keep it quiet?" Harry asked.

"Well, you see, keeping the secret from his own family was never one of the conditions," she answered. "Martha's decision to have everyone think Edward was the girls' father was her own idea. Father never did speak to either of them again, as she wished, but when he married Mother, he told her everything. And when I was old enough, they told me. Father is a very straightforward person. He detests lies. I think you'd like him, Harry. He is your real grandfather, you know. He hopes to meet you someday. I'm afraid his only other grandchild is--ahem--rather a disappointment to him." Her eyes twinkled. "If you know what I mean." Harry, realizing she had to be talking about his cousin Dudley, knew exactly what she meant.

"Has he met Dudley, then?" he asked.

"Oh, no--he's kept his part of the bargain even after all this time," Professor Lovejoy replied. "To tell you the truth, after keeping an eye on your aunt and uncle all these years I don't think he has any great enthusiasm for meeting them."

"So if he's supposed to keep all this quiet," persisted Harry, "why are you telling me? Won't Grandmother Evans be angry?"

Professor Lovejoy smiled. "Well, first of all, Harry, she won't know that you know unless you tell her. And then there's the fact that Father hasn't let the secret out--I have. I never made any promises."

Harry laughed mirthlessly. "Me? I'm not even allowed to visit my grandparents. I've only ever seen them once, when they stopped in to surprise Aunt Petunia on her birthday one year. When she realized who it was, she hustled me into my cup--er, my room--and told me I'd be in huge trouble if I made any noise. Whenever Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon visit my grandparents they leave me with our neighbor, Mrs. Figg. It's funny--I just last year found out she's a Squib," he said, referring to the term for non-magic people born into wizarding families. "I suppose they didn't want my grandparents to know I exist, or something," he said bitterly.

Professor Lovejoy's lips tightened. "Oh, they know you exist, Harry," she said. "Remember, Lily was their favorite. And they were very fond of James as well. Your arrival was a cause for celebration indeed. No," she said, "I rather suspect their keeping you out of your grandparents' way has more to do with Petunia's jealousy of Lily as the favorite than anything else. Petunia probably assumed--quite rightly, I would say, knowing what little I do about your cousin Dudley--that the favoritism would carry over to you when your mother died. Your grandparents are quite well-to-do, you know. I'm sure that has a lot to do with Petunia's motives, too. She's looking out for her son. Probably she thinks that with your grandparents and you it's a case of 'out of sight, out of mind'."

She got up and stretched her legs. "Well, that's it, Harry--the big secret. I'm your Aunt Trillium, and you have a grandfather and step-grandmother who are very proud of you. So am I, for that matter. You've been through so much, Harry, without much support from anyone. I sometimes think it's a miracle that you're here at all."

"I have my friends," Harry said quickly. "Ron and Hermione. And Dumbledore."

"Well, I'm glad of that," said Professor Lovejoy. "I do wish you were able to count on your family, though."

"What made you tell me all this now?" Harry asked. "I mean--why now, specifically? I've been in the wizarding world--at Hogwarts, anyway--for five years."

"Yes, I know," said Professor Lovejoy regretfully. "It's unfortunate that I was--away--for so long. Working for the Ministry," she added, seeing Harry's inquiring look.

"Oh. Right. You're an Auror," he remembered.

"Well, I was. I've been a lot of things. Auror, translator, special emissary, whatever I was needed for."

"Special emissary?" asked Harry. "What's that?"

"Well, I can't go into great detail, really," she said. "Suffice to say that I did a lot of undercover work. And the Ministry are trying to keep track of the Dark Lord's activities...well, perhaps you can put two and two together and get a general idea of what I've been up to. Never boring, I do assure you!"

"Wait a minute. Voldemort--you were spying on him? Undercover? Were you pretending to be a Death Eater?" Harry breathed. Professor Lovejoy looked startled.

"Why--good heavens, Harry! What an imagination you have," she said brightly. "It's best if we don't discuss it any further, I think. But do you have any questions about anything else I've told you?"

Harry shook his head. "I don't think so. It's all so amazing. I'd no idea we were related. It's kind of nice. Take some getting used to, I guess." A sudden thought struck him. "Is it okay for the others to know we're related? I mean, should I keep it a secret?"

Professor Lovejoy took a deep breath. "Actually, Harry, Professor Dumbledore thinks it best that as many people know about it as possible. Tell anyone you wish." The ghost of a grin touched her mouth for a moment. "Don't think I'll go any easier on you in class because of it. No family favoritism, you understand." She grew serious again.

"All joking aside, Dumbledore thinks that if the Dark Lord finds out about us being related, especially knowing I've been working as an Auror, he might try to eliminate me at some point, and that might give us a chance to lead him away from you for a bit, you see? Perhaps find a way to destroy him. I agreed because I've spent the last few years dedicated to that very purpose, Harry. It's not just because of your being in danger from him, nephew or not. I simply feel very strongly that good must triumph over evil. I want to do this. I need to do it. For you--for Lily--for all our sakes." She fell silent.

Harry stirred from the depths of the sofa and struggled to his feet. "Well, I like the idea of having a family. A real family," he amended.

"I'm glad, Harry. I do hope you'll think of me if you need help or even if you just want to talk."

"Thanks." Harry grinned at her. "I think we'd better go down to dinner before we miss it," he said. As they stood up and approached the open office door there was a faint rustling noise out in the classroom, and the sound of a chair scraping on the floor.

"Hello?" Professor Lovejoy called, walking out onto the balcony. "Hmm. That's odd." She looked out over the empty room. A chair at the back, near the door, sat askew as if someone had got up in a hurry. A faint frown appeared between her eyebrows.

"It appears we had an eavesdropper," she said. Harry looked at her. She shrugged. "Well, I suppose it can't hurt anything. After all, Dumbledore does want people to know about this. Still," she said as they went out into the corridor, "I don't like the idea of someone sneaking about and spying. I shall have to see about warding my classroom, it seems. Now, Harry--last one to the Great Hall is a blast-ended skrewt!" She picked up the hem of her robe and started to run. Her cry of "Come on, Harry!" echoed behind her. Harry, suddenly experiencing an insane desire to giggle, raced to catch up.

Neither of them noticed their eavesdropper, hidden behind an enormous suit of armor just beyond the classroom. As soon as Harry and Professor Lovejoy were out of sight he tottered off in the opposite direction, still gripped by severe shock at the conversation he had overheard.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Snape thought Madam Pomfrey would never leave. Of all the times for her to want to talk to him about lesson plans, now was the moment he would have least chosen. He wondered at his own impatience to see Professor Lovejoy again. At first he tried to excuse it as a mere wish to have his curiosity satisfied. He really did want some answers from her. But then his innate honesty won out and he grudgingly admitted the possibility that he might be more interested in pursuing other aspects of their relationship--if one could call it that--than merely having an academic discussion about...what? Why she seemed to be chasing him? Why she annoyed him so much? Why he wanted to see her at all?

Blast. He did want to see her. But even thinking of pursuing a relationship with her--a romance, dare he say it--had him wondering for the hundredth time if she was merely toying with him for the fun of it. Was she the cat, and he her little catnip toy? He wanted it to not be true, but years of caution and paranoia were not easily overcome. He had an uneasy feeling that he would have to sacrifice some of his closely-held inhibitions were he to become closer to Trillium Lovejoy. He wasn't at all sure he was ready for that.

Madam Pomfrey wondered more than once where Snape's mind had wandered to that afternoon. He agreed almost absently with several parts of her plan that she had anticipated would be difficult and cause some argument from him, even outright disapproval. His easily-won agreement was a sign that his mind was elsewhere. Finally she gave up and, shaking her head and tsking to herself, she left, telling him they could discuss their plan later. She thought it quite likely she would have to begin again from the start, as she wasn't sure he'd really heard a word she had said.

As soon as Madam Pomfrey had gone, Snape started off once again toward Professor Lovejoy's office. He would wait no longer--he must speak to her. He wasn't quite clear in his mind about just what good this would do, but not speaking to her was making his mind run in circles. He was tired of the unsettled feeling he had most of the time lately. It made concentrating on anything for very long difficult, and he was afraid the students were beginning to notice his preoccupation. He knew the faculty had, although for the most part they were respectful enough either of his feelings or his temper to not mention it.

The Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom was open, so he walked in. It was lit only by a single branch of candles on Professor Lovejoy's desk at the front. He saw firelight dancing on the open door of her office and started in that direction, but he heard her chuckle warmly and stopped short. Apparently she was not alone.

"Tell me, Harry. What do you know about your family--about your mother's family?" she was asking.

Snape realized she had Potter in her office. Curious as to why she was asking Harry about his family, Snape lingered in the darkened classroom. In his present state he had no qualms about eavesdropping; if Trillium Lovejoy was speaking, he wanted to listen.

A moment later he was regretting that impulse.

She was Harry's aunt? She was related to Harry Potter? Snape was dumfounded. He felt so many things at once that he would have been hard put to it to name any single emotion. Disappointment was far too pale a word. Revulsion pretty much topped the list. Betrayal came in a close second. He knew it had been a mistake to hope for any kind of relationship with her. Here he'd been wandering round in a fog for nearly a month--over a woman who was related to the one person with whom Snape could barely tolerate existence on the same planet. His own words about fools and fairy tales haunted him.

He sank into a chair and listened to the rest of the conversation; he couldn't help himself. Like picking at a half-healed scab, he knew it would hurt but was nevertheless unable to let it go.

When he suddenly realized Harry and Professor Lovejoy were coming toward the office door, he leaped out of the chair and knocked it sideways in his haste to be gone, careless of the noise he made, and bolted from the room. There wasn't time to reach the main staircase before Harry and Professor Lovejoy came out of the classroom unless he ran, and he refused to be caught in an undignified headlong rush down the corridor in full view of any chance onlookers. A suit of armor stood conveniently placed a few feet down the corridor and he hurried round the far side of it, twitching the edges of his robe out of sight.

Snape could hardly believe his eyes when Professor Lovejoy challenged Harry to a race down the corridor and took off running. Preposterous! Had she no sense of propriety? Thoroughly disgruntled, he waited until both she and Harry were out of sight before stepping out from his place of concealment and walking unsteadily in the opposite direction.

If he had been distracted before, it was nothing to the way he felt now.