The Theory of Relativity

Insane people are always sure that they are fine. It is only the sane people who are willing to admit that they are crazy.

Nora Ephron

I'm seventeen and I'm crazy.

That's from a Muggle book, you know. I read it in Muggle Studies. Well, not in Muggle Studies, exactly - instead of Muggle Studies would be more accurate, since I read it in class under my desk... much like Harry says Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown used to read Witch Weekly instead of listening in History of Magic. I've never been terribly fond of Witch Weekly - they print the most outrageous gossip, all about who was seen with whom, and who was turned into a tortoise, and what robes Cleansweep Heiress Lucy Ollerton was wearing when she ran off with Rock Sensation Jeremy Parsons. Terribly dull stuff, and what's worse, they got it all wrong. I'm glad the Quibbler doesn't print rubbish like that.

But Lavender and Parvati had some excuse to read Witch Weekly in History of Magic, because as dull as the magazine is, Professor Binns is far worse. Muggle Studies, though, is my favorite class by far, and I really shouldn't read novels during lecture, not even fascinating Muggle ones.

The quote is still appropriate, though, regardless of when I read it. I am seventeen - I turned it last Sunday. It's odd, you know. After reading that book, I was rather looking forward to turning seventeen, just to see what insanity was like. Daddy told me once I was born a bit after midday, and I couldn't help but wonder whether I would stand up during lunch at the exact moment of my birth seventeen years before and begin throwing food about or hexing people left and right.

But nothing happened. It was rather disappointing, to tell the truth; I sat at the Ravenclaw table in the Great Hall for a good hour, and I never so much as hiccupped. Seventeen doesn't seem much different from sixteen after all. Perhaps it's not that strange. I shouldn't have expected it to be different, I suppose, but it seemed like it should have been so momentous an occasion, even disregarding the fact that I'm of age and can now Apparate (legally, that is - Dad helped me get a short holiday so I could have the test. I passed, but my Apparition's unfortunately quite wobbly still).

Other than passing Apparition, though, it wasn't an especially satisfying day. I didn't even have a party, because no one knew it was my birthday. Ginny was outraged that I didn't tell her in time - she only found out Monday at lunch after asking where I'd been that weekend. I rather thought she'd ferret it out herself, actually, as she has so many other things. Ginny is quite good at finding out things about a person. She's been busy, though, with Quidditch and everything. And the others don't see me very often, as they're all taking NEWTs this year. I have an idea that they're planning a party this weekend to make up for it, though. It seems like something Ginny would do, throwing me a party.

But even without a party, I expected to at least feel a bit madder. Because of the book, you know - according to this girl (or her uncle, anyway), all seventeen-year-olds are insane. I wonder how he came to that conclusion. Like I said, I didn't feel especially crazy when I turned seventeen. But perhaps it would be better to test the theory on someone who wasn't already mad to begin with; it's possible I just didn't have much further to go. I wonder if most sixteen-year-olds really are less crazy than most seventeen-year-olds? If the uncle were strictly correct, one would think that also meant eighteen-year-olds were, in general, not crazy, and wouldn't it be quite noticeable if that were the case? Maybe it's a strictly Muggle thing, and they lock up their children for a year while they get insanity out of their systems. Or perhaps madness creeps upon one slowly. But then how would anyone know if they really were insane or not? Where do you draw the line?

I've often wondered that, actually. How does one judge sanity? Harry was once thought crazy by many for saying You-Know-Who had returned, and is still considered so by a few. Ginny seemed very odd our first year, she was so pale and withdrawn. Her brother Ron certainly went a bit funny at the Department of Mysteries two years ago, though he had a fairly good excuse for it. And I suppose even Hermione Granger could be considered mad by some people, though I imagine it would be a very different madness from my own. All of them are rather different, actually. Still, with company like that, who could be ashamed of being crazy?

I'm lucky, though. I've never had to really question my sanity, like Harry or Ginny. They've told me bits, you know - not much, but enough. Ginny thought she was going mad first year. Harry was worried for himself that year, too, but also my fourth year, the year I met him. I imagine there were other times he hasn't mentioned, as well. But they turned out to be fine after all. Not noticeably insane, in any case.

I wonder, does that mean I might not be mad either?

But then, it's different with me. I can't trace my insanity back to any particular time. I never went mad or thought I was mad. I just was mad - or at least was informed of the fact - and didn't bother worrying about it. There didn't seem to be much point at that stage.

Ought I to think I'm insane, I wonder? I didn't decide on it myself, after all - it was decided for me. More specifically, They decided it for me. I'd never really considered myself mad before that; I thought I was perfectly normal. Normal relative to myself, anyway, which is the only way one really can know - most things are relative to oneself. Sanity is based on normality, and normality can only be judged based on what one is accustomed to.

For my part, I think They are rather strange. The things They seem to care about, for example... gossip and fashion and all the other rubbish they print in Witch Weekly. I suppose it's possible that Lavender and Parvati think me just as strange and silly for my choice in reading material as I think they are for theirs. It's very puzzling, though, to think that anyone would consider 10 Charms for Hassle-Free Hair more important or interesting than reports of rampaging heliopaths. But it must make relative sense to Them, or else I suppose they wouldn't waste Their time with it.

And apparently I am relatively unhinged compared to the relatively normal people who read magazines like Witch Weekly. Since they, being the majority, are held to be experts on the matter, I am expected to bow to their superior judgment. It makes things quite a bit easier on me, I suppose, not needing to decide for myself. I wouldn't entirely trust myself to rate my own sanity, anyway; I'd be an awfully biased judge. I imagine they would know madness when they saw it, though. They've rather more experience in the matter than I.

But then, are They really qualified to judge? After all, They did think Harry was crazy. Dumbledore, too. But They were wrong then, They've probably been wrong before, and, based on Their track record, it seems reasonable enough to assume that They will be wrong again. From that, it makes relative sense that They are wrong about me, as well. Would believing Them and acknowledging my madness make me any more sane, then? Or would trusting the judgment of people who have been and in all likelihood still are wrong make me crazier than ever? More importantly, would I really want Their version of sanity even if I could have it?

No, thank you, I think I'll stick with madness. It's more interesting, and I've been told I'm quite good at it.