Theories of Relativity

Exhale.

Ash fell from the cigar into the tray as fingers tapped away a rhythm that harkened from Bach. Music played from an old record player that Yuri had come to consider one of his most prized possessions, though he graciously left it at The Hobbled Pigeon Pub, also known as The Pigeon to the small circle of friends that treated it like home. Exactly four chairs occupied the room, and exactly four were currently inhabited. There was a plush couch against one of the walls, and the window had a small nook that gave a wonderful view to the night sky. The couch and the nook were usually alternately occupied by Kenna MacBain, but she was downstairs doing the duties necessary to keeping the pub running, which was more than could be said for her brother Rory.

Rory was attempting to prove his theory that the current Ministry of Magic had been infliltrated by American spies to a very tired looking Yuri. The elder man stood next to the record player, quietly watching the record turn as the needle moved across it. He reached out and adjusted one of the knobs, and the music became considerably more clear. Rory pressed on, insisting in a strong Scottish accent, "If the Americans continue with their own foreign policy, then we have to assume they want to get involved in European affairs. However, no one is certain exactly what is going on with our policy, so it makes perfect sense that Americans would send in some spies in an attempt to figure out what is going on. Now - at that recent battle to recover Khaat Lupin, the Americans were real quick on the uptake. Me mate McIntosh in the Ministry said Lee Shepard's office was real quick to demand a list of casualties, then when they got it, no one said boo. McIntosh and I think that means they were worried one of their own men were hurt-"

"Sounds like they've more reason to worry about a Scottish spy, than an American one," Yuri responded, his Russian accent much more subtle, as he was a practicioner of many languages. Rory froze, his lips twisted as they had been forzen in the attempt to spout more words. Suddenly, he cracked into a smile and said, "Aye, that they do!"

Remy was pouring himself a shot. Remy was easily the wildcard of the group, their Mercutio, and if someone were to drink more than they were capable of handling, it would be him. He downed the shot and slammed it on the counter next to four empty shotglasses. He turned, smacking his lips loudly, as his eyes scanned the room looking for someone to bother. Rory was back into his theory, Yuri was focused on the record player, and Kip was deep in thought about something. Or he was just enjoying the atmosphere he and his friends had created.

"Anyone want to take a shot?"

It was this that finally pulled Kip out of his lonely thoughts. He turned his chair to look at the Frenchman and rested his temple on two long fingers. "Now, why would we want to do that?" he quipped, a warm smile gracing his lips.

Remy stretched his arms skywards, cracking his knuckles. "Let's see. Because my Yew is giving me troubles because it won't bond with the Demiguise Hair I plucked especially for my patron. I had to travel to f*cking Singapore, and now the wand is too British for the hair. It has to be this hair, it has to be this wood, and I have not figured out what I'm going to do to make them get along yet."

Kip raised an eyebrow. "So, whiskey?"

Remy grinned. "So, yes, whiskey." Kip chuckled and waved a hand. His own Brandy was still waiting for him. He had no intentions on going past his limit tonight, though his friend seemed intent on it. Remy huffed and looked over at Rory. "Where's your sister, then?"

"I'm not her keeper."

Remy groaned and poured himself another hefty shot. "The night continues, then."

Kip smiled, turning his chair to look out the window that Kenna was so oft to enjoy. The stars twinkled as midnight approached. Kip had had a long day of teaching, wandless magic, legilemency practice, and some reading. He had just finished Egmund's Theory of Dark Arts Practicum and was now mulling over some of the finer points of the book. If dark magic was used for good, was it still considered dark? What was the difference between one killing with a diffindo which could be painful, and with a painless Avada Kedavra? Was it the wielder and the victim who defined which magic was dark and which was not?

He certainly was not prepared for the brain tease he was about to get. Dark Magic Morals was easy to tackle in comparison to the news about to come through the door.

The door opened and it was Remy who announced the change. "Kenna!" Kip continued to stare, certain she had just gotten off for work and would soon be within his frame of view. From the lack of change in his companions, it seemed all but Remy were thinking the same.

"Kipling."

Kenna was a bartender and the mistress of a pub. And she was Scottish. Her voice was very rarely soft. So, it was this quiet tone that made him turn his chair to look at her. In her hand, she had some papers rolled into a tight scroll. Excitement flickered in her eyes while concern wrinkled her expression. Kip tipped his head. "Yes?"

She shifted from one foot to the other. "You remember how you agreed that you'd look at anything I found on your real father?"

The music continued, but all other noises came to a halt. Yuri was the only one to not immediately look his way, because he of all knew that it would only serve to stress his friend. Kip reminded himself that he was a rational human being and knowing the biological donor that helped him come into creation was only slightly interesting. Nothing more. There was no need to tie emotional importance to it just because society made it seem important. That was the fallacy of individualism, and Kip believed in the facts of biology. This way, he could look into his medical history. That was the importance. “I remember.”

Kenna stepped forward and held out the rolled up papers. He took them from her slowly and she stepped away, looking at him with concern. Remy cleared his throat. “Shots? Anyone? Kenna?”

She agreed and walked slowly over to him. “Pour me one,” Rory said, and he hurried over. They all gathered around while Yuri changed the record, glancing over at Kip who was reading through the information.

“So,” was all Yuri said.

“Gregory Dyllan,” Kip said, eyes looking over the papers.

“Any relation to Jack Dyllan?” Rory said.

“She’s that Quidditch player!” Kenna said, happy to no longer pretend like she wasn’t interested in the topic.

“And she was a big player in the Ministry,” Rory corrected.

“Doubt it,” Kip said. “Says here he’s a muggle.”

“But she’s a muggleborn,” Kenna said excitedly. “I read so in Witch Weekly when they did bios on all the captains in the league.”

Kip sifted through the papers. “Riley Dyllan. Twenty six. Looks like my father was busy that year. My half-brothers my age. Born to Gregory and Raelyn Dyllan. He was married then. Haven’t seen this bloke around, I wonder if he’s magical. Huh. Oh, here it is. [i]Jaquellene Dyllan, born to parents Gregory and Raelyn Dyllan on the eleventh of July-“

“You have siblings!” Kenna announced excitedly.

“Max Morrison,” Yuri said, looking calmly at Kip.

Kip’s eyebrows scrunched together in confusion, trying to understand what his friend meant. And then he remembered. “Oh! Right.”

Remy was confused and hated to be out of the loop. “What? What are you talking about?”

Kip looked to Yuri, making sure he was remembering and following correctly. “My friend Max recently had to get married in accordance with this marriage law.” Rory scoffed, ready to deliver his theories in that. Kenna smacked him in the chest, causing Remy to beam. “He married this woman, Jack, his roommate.”

“How many female Jacks are there?” Yuri said, certain he was right in his assumption that they were one in the same.

Kenna bounced. “So, you know you have a sister in the magical world.”

“Half,” Kip corrected.

“Whatever. You can meet her! Kippy, you have a half-sister! Isn’t that exciting?”

Kip stared out the window thoughtfully. It certainly was something. Kenna watched him for a moment, before a bell rang. "Oh, right. Work," she said, laughing at her own slip. She left the men then, to go figure out what was calling her away from her friends. Upstairs, the others avoided bringing the topic up to their friend.

Downstairs, Kenna was being informed that a friend (by association, of course) had arrived. She came into the main portion of the bar and spotted Bentley Pierson. "Bentley," she cried jovially, approaching him. "I'll get you a drink, yes? Kip's upstairs, with the rest of them, last door on the right! I'll bring you a drink, yeah?"

What was the point of being married to Rose if he couldn’t talk to her about the important things? Bentley couldn’t see one. To make things worse, she had moved in and thusly sent Baldric packing. At least the Gryffindor had found himself a place to stay, what with Keiran’s mum opening up her home to those who needed a place and needed to finish their schooling when Hogwarts made it difficult to do so. In the end, though, the words had escaped and Baldric now knew the basis for Bentley’s troubled nature. He had not, however, explained to the blonde, yet, what Audriana Blackmoor had dug up.

What sort of person was he, if he had a Death Eater for a father? In truth, he worked with the Death Eaters to an extent, himself. But why had the man become one to begin with? That was the real thing he wanted to know. He was not concerned with the fact so much as the how and the why, and the question of why a man with that much potential for power would need to give away his son.

“Look, I understand why you’re upset,” Audriana began quietly, not even bothering to back up in response to Bentley’s aggression. She had dealt with far too many real Death Eaters to actually be afraid of one who affiliated with them but so clearly didn’t want to be one. “It’s a shock, I’m sure.”

“And my mother?” He snapped, leaning forward over the table.

They had met at an obscure pub in the outmost edges of London, somewhere he was sure that his colleagues, wife, or – erm – ex-flatmate/travel companion would not show up without warning. Somewhere that even if someone overheard, they wouldn’t understand and word wouldn’t get out. Derek and Nancy got enough press as it were – he did, too, unfortunately – and he was basically hoping to keep them out of the thick of it. At least until he understood.

“She’s… well, according to several sources, she died several years ago. I’m sorry, Bentley.”

“Ben.” He corrected automatically.

“Sorry?” Audriana blinked, surprised.

“People call me Ben. Feel free.” His sarcasm was ignored and she merely nodded, resting her forearms on the table so she could observe him. Filing away information, he was sure. She should have been a Ravenclaw, he decided. Except that beating up Death Eaters thing. That was sort of Gryffindor-ish. Sort of. His thoughts strayed to Baldric, but he slapped them away immediately. He needed to focus.

“Okay…”

“She died. Okay. What were their names?” Ben asked suddenly, realizing he had no idea at all. No clue where his last name came from. Was he from a line of people that he actually knew but didn’t fully know? Because he wasn’t sure if that would be thrilling or terrifying.

“The woman’s name was Dianna Pierson. When your father… well, when he found out she was a Muggle, he left her. She couldn’t take care of you, but she gave you her name to protect you from him. She knew he was a dark soul, according to her sister, but didn’t know why.”

“I have an aunt?” He cut in, jumping at the chance to ask questions for once, rather than telling people what he needed them to do. He was desperate for the information. Desperate for more of it.

“Yes. Hazel.” Audriana replied, setting the name down gently. “And your father is Clarence Montgomery. Married to Violette Rowe.”

“Merlin,” he whispered, raking through his hair with his fingers.

He had heard the name, but only in passing. Whispered in rooms late at night, the syllables dropped in fear, not in amazement or awe or admiration. Definitely not in that last one. Bentley was fairly certain that he had provided money for one of Clarence’s endeavors, if only to keep himself out of trouble. That was his real purpose in helping the Death Eaters, after all. To avoid being on the side that got attacked if anything went wrong. If the Death Eaters were taken down, at least nobody would be able to track his efforts. That was certainly a bonus.

It was a huge leap from Clarence to Derek, then, who was so appreciated by everyone at their company. Who was looked up to by everyone, including Bentley. The man seemed able to understand anything – except the fact that his telling Ben to go and find his birth parents would have been taken as an insult. He could only hope that Baldric hadn’t said anything to them when he wasn’t paying attention the previous weekend. That would just cause worry and his folks being unsettled by his choice to look into it.

“Um, do they-?”

Did he want to know? He supposed he had to. “Do they have kids?”

Audriana shook her head, silent, and Bentley let out a breath that he realized belatedly sounded relieved. She pulled something out of her pocket and Ben realized it was a Muggle cell. She must have checked the time, because she frowned and looked up at him again. “I have to go.” Yep. He was right, then.

“Right. Of course.” He nodded, reaching into his pocket to retrieve his wallet. Opening the flaps, he dug into it, pulling out the Muggle money he had promised her. He wasn’t sure what she wanted with it, but it didn’t matter to him. Audriana looked almost guilty for a moment, but she took it with an embarrassed glance his direction. “Thanks.” I think…

Audriana nodded, stood, and left him sitting there. Groaning, he ran a hand over his face. What was he meant to do with this?

So it was to Kip’s favorite haunt that Bentley found himself walking. It was not that unusual, he supposed, but was also was not entirely typical. Even still, as he walked in the door, Kenna caught his attention, her mood vastly more pleasant than his own. With a nod in greeting, he met her halfway, attempting to force a smile. It had been less than an hour since he got the news, and he wasn’t even close to being himself. What would Red say when he walked home smashed? Because that was definitely the plan.

“Strongest thing you’ve got, Kenna. Lots of it.” He requested, knowing that she wouldn’t worry after his paying for it in the end, drunk or not. He had never been, and would never be, that sort of man.

Although he wasn’t entirely certain about spilling his discoveries in front of Kip’s friends, he supposed that they constituted some semblance of friends for him as well at that point. He had clearly seen them often enough to be recognized, which was something at least. So up the stairs he went, peering at the lot of them for a moment before stepping in and feeling like he had interrupted something.

The handsome man looked less than pleased with his lot in life, and the realization created a small landslide on Kenna's expression, as enthusiasm and optimism fell to concern. Truly, she did not know Bentley horribly well, but he was a friend of Kip. She, above her own judgement, trusted Kip to choose companions worthy of keeping. It was because of him that she had Yuri and Remy. He had brought them all together, and any other friend of Kip's became someone Kenna would do almost anything for.

"Ben," she said, the worry evident in her voice. She chewed her lip and nodded, flickering him a smile on her pretty face. Kip would help. She could not. It slipped her always-frazzled mind that Kip might not be in the mood to give advice just now and she gestured up the stairs once again, hurrying behind the bar to begin making him the best tasting, strongest drink within her own mental recipe book. He looked like he needed.

Maybe they all did.

Kip had been left to his own devices in those short minutes between Kenna leaving him with such heavy information and the arrival of another friend. This time it was Rory who spotted the newcomer, as he poured Remy a third shot. "Ben," he said, managing to keep any grimness out of his voice. Remy's head lifted and he offered him a smile. "Hello, mate. Good to see you."

Yuri glanced betweeen the newcomer and Kip, who was only just pulling himself out of thought. Yuri had found a record and as he placed the needle atop it, he left his position to come clasp arms with the Pierson man. "Good to see you," Yuri said, his accent rumbling low and dark beneath his voice. Yuri turned slightly, glancing over his own shoulder at his friend, who was staring with determination into his glass. "Kip."

The soft expression of his voice finally roused the Parsons fellow. He raised his head, realizing he had company. He blinked back the surprise and the emotion that may or may have not been building within his rational frame. He stood, stepping forward to clasp hands and greet his friend. "Ben," he said, finally shaking a small smile onto his face. "Sorry about that. Kenna recently delivered me a nice kick to the head." He paused and searched the other man's face. "You seem troubled."

"I call it a Vengeful Veela!"

Kip turned and spotted Kenna, smiling brightly, a tray full of mugs. The room was staring at her now and she faltered. "B-because it's tasty... but it has a bite- did I... I'm sorry, I-"

Yuri stepped forward and took the platter from her. "Thank you, Kenna, join us?" he spoke to her in barely a whisper.

She struggled, but she took a mug nonetheless. "Need this now," she grumbled, so only he could hear her. The pair walked off towards the window nook so they could drink, Yuri depositing the tray at the minibar. Kip hooked a mug for himself and Ben, before motioning that the other man take a seat. His eyes fell on Ben, waited patiently for the man to speak in his own due time. The conversation would be private, even if they were not alone. Kenna and Yuri were discussing something under low voices, and the other two men were trying to down the new drink as quickly as possible, before they would move on to the next drink. Kip was all Ben's.

Bentley did not put much stock in the idea of pity. Pity was someone feeling bad for you when you least wanted them to. Pity was what he saw in Kenna's eyes, and he immediately wanted to recoil and walk back out the door. But she didn’t push, and he was profoundly grateful for it. It felt ridiculous to consider backing down so easily when he needed to learn how to phrase what he now knew. He couldn’t fathom walking into his flat and waiting to find time with Baldric to explain. He couldn’t face going to his folks’ house and dropping it on their heads without figuring how to word it.

Guilt thwacked him as he realized what he was essentially doing to Kip by expecting that the man would be willing to listen. Bentley himself was not sure where his head was at. He just wanted someone without any stake in Ben’s feelings or future to react sensibly. Ben sure wasn’t doing that on his own.

It wasn’t Kip, though, who noticed the new entrant to the room. Ben offered a nod in Remy’s direction, lifting a hand to offer a friendly pat on Yuri’s shoulder as she man greeted hi as well. “You as well,” he offered belatedly, stopping any attempt at formalities when Yuri caught Kip’s attention.

Ben’s frown was slightly abated but only for a moment. Shaking his head, Ben went to say that he wasn’t offended by Kip’s distraction, but was cut off when Kenna entered. In the silence that fell, Ben glanced over his shoulder but didn’t find it in him to say anything. He was surprised but grateful when the rest of the group gave him space, though he hardly hesitated before taking the drink Kip held out to him as they sat.

Staring into the mug, a bit of anxiety made him pause and consider how very drunk he was willing to get. Closing his eyes for a moment, he sucked in a breath before deciding that this day had earned him at least the one drink, Ben lifted the drink and took a lingering drink from it. Kenna was right – the drink was quite something. He would regret drinking as much of it as his mind said he should.

After lowering the mug back to be clasped in both hands, he tore his gaze from the floor and looked up at Kip. The man seemed to be in about the same mood as Ben was, and he couldn’t say he felt Kip deserved it. Although the frown was etched on his face, the businessman hardly noticed, feeling like it was actually part of him at that point.

“I found out about my parents today.” He dropped finally, voice rough from both the alcohol and the desire to keep the words to himself. Unsure how to continue, he steeled himself and just continued to say the first things that came to mind – something he didn’t dare do with anyone else. Especially not Baldric. “My birth parents. My mom… she was a Muggle and my Death Eater father didn’t want her. So she had to give me up, and died a while back. The only positive to this is that I could find my father if I wanted to.”

Kip had been fortunate to have a friend in need at this particular time, for it delayed the inevitable. He preferred to do the thinking that he was ashamed to have to work through on his own.  Thinking through the morals of dark magic – yes, best done in the company of those he cared most about. Political theory – they were the perfect focus group for him to test his own ideology on. Basic philosophy and discussion of literature – he had a sample of different backgrounds and beliefs to bounce his own opinions off of. His friends were great for thinking.

But he did not like that he had to reconcile the fact of his father within himself. It should have been easy to process. It should have been as easy as moving forward to secure a medical history and basic background. But things had become more complicated. His father had a name, a life, a family. Kip had a family, part of his life folded into another’s, a name he had never worn but still somehow had more importance now. He would have understood the effect on any of his other friends. Kenna and Rory were big on family, Remy was vain, and Yuri had such an interest in his nationality. Kip had supposed he would be the sort to be unaffected. What did having a father he now knew a few key facts about change for him?

That was exactly what he wanted to figure out. He could not do it with Kenna encouraging him that it was normal, Rory asking questions he did not yet have the answer to, and Remy making jokes about his new chances with a famous Quidditch player. Kip supposed that was one of the major facts that had thrown him too. He now had family within his world. It was easy enough deciding that his muggle father had little place in his magical life. But a half-sister with magic in her veins meant there was no reason they should not meet, should not connect. But now he was faced with that very problem.

And it was a problem he would rather reason through in the privacy of his own home.

Bentley was a welcome distraction. He could discuss the man’s problems with ease, knowing there would be no overlap with own issues.

Of course, that was when Coincidence decided to visit the Hobbled Pigeon Pub.

As Ben concluded his own anecdote, Kip set his mug aside and began to rub his hands over his face, up and down. One short chuckle rumbled out of his throat, though it was obviously not a chuckle of mirth. For a few seconds, he was silent, letting Ben’s story settle between them. He dropped his hands, his face red from the treatment it had received as he shook his head. He let out a sigh and finally said, “’One woe doth tread upon another.’”

Rory had heard this and, his back to them, raised his mug and said, “To Denmark.” In unison, the other three raised their mugs and toasted the country that the line was most commonly associated with, as was their tradition when a Shakespearan tragedy was quoted. Kip mumbled the toast too and finally raised his eyes to look at Ben.

“Sorry for my cynicism,” Kip said. “I’m just marveling at the strange workings of our universe.” He sat back, regarding the other man carefully. “Somehow, it does not seem like the potential of meeting with your father has done much to soften the blow. Why is that?”

You’d make a bad therapist, Kip. Fixing yourself through others is a dangerous game.

Yuri’s voice filled his head from across the room. Kip could not afford to lose concentration in this conversation long enough to respond via Legilimency to his friend, so his eyes flicked that way. Their gazes met for a moment and Yuri conceded, allowing his friend to make the mistake if he was so certain it wasn’t one.

Bentley's eyebrow seemed to have a mind of its own as it lifted in response to the group's actions across the room. He wondered for a moment what it would be like to have traditions as a group as they did, or even what it would be like to have friends as Kip did. But Ben had always done better on his own. It was how he had built up his life. It was how he had found his career and his adoptive parents and his accidental lover and best friend. For that was almost exactly what Baldric was; Ben couldn't find other words for him just then.

Although he felt a little daunted under Kip's gaze, Ben felt he deserved it for choosing to go to the man in question for a discussion. True, he could have asked someone else, but Bentley couldn't figure who he could have asked about things like this. No, Baldric would not have turned him away, but they didn't always do well when they tried to discuss things in a straightforward, serious manner. They didn't actually do too well a lot of the time if they were talking. They seemed to converse differently - through actions rather than words.

So Kip's question surprised Ben enough to cause him to blink and look up from his drink. "I already know his story to some extent. I don't know what he could tell me. Besides, this means he's been so close this whole time and didn't want to find out what happened to me. So why should I want to listen to him, right?"

Sighing, he dropped his head to the back of his chair, staring up at the ceiling. "The Death Eater thing definitely doesn't help, either. I mean, I can admit to working with them in the past to ensure I kept out of trouble. But it makes it harder to get in there. My brain is saying I could enlist and get closer to him but I don't know how helpful that would really be."

A hand came up to wipe over his face as if it would brush away the innate exhaustion brought by his new findings. "I never should have started looking for them, huh?"

Bentley had either not picked up on Kip's reference to their shared circumstances, or was so hard pressed to feel his way through his own that he was not considering Kip's news yet. Kip did not mind. He would help Bentley and, through that, better discern which course of action might be best for himself through the process. It was a much cleaner, safer procedure, though he could feel Yuri's disapproval of him using his friend to solve his own problems from across the room. Besides, Kip would not harming Ben. He would just be offering theories and taking notes on Ben's approach of choice and the effects it garnered.

It was just science. And when did science ever hurt anyone?

Kip blinked. "There may be unforeseen circumstances? Perhaps just how much he knew about his son isn't as much as has been presumed. The truth might not come from him, but it certainly can't come without his involvement completely, yes?"

From across the room, Kip heard Yuri sigh, but he ignored him. He knew that there would be a discussion once Bentley left them, and this one would be more heated than usual for there would be a personal element. Kenna was now glancing towards Yuri, certain something was going on but completely in the dark as to what.

Kip blinked when Ben mentioned the Death Eaters. Now Kip had no problem with Dark Magic, but he had a problem with the factions that divided themselves by magic usage. He shook his head. "I advise against that. It will affect your life so intrinsically that I don't think it is worth it. Besides, you should get to know your father through means you already have. There should be effort, but not an effort that may compromise yourself. You may regret it."

Even with his own beliefs, that would have been his answer had he been a Death Eater.

Kip smiled at Ben's final question. "I understand the sentiment, truly, but nothing had been lost besides potential ignorance. The discovery of new knowledge is always for our benefit. You just recognize that it's not going to be easy. That's where your lack of faith comes in."