Disclaimer: I do not own the original canon nor am I making any profit from writing this piece. All works are accredited to their original authors, performers, and producers while this piece is mine. No copyright infringement is intended. I acknowledge that all views and opinions expressed herein are merely my interpretations of the characters and situations found within the original canon and may not reflect the views and opinions of the original author(s), producer(s), and/or other people.

Warnings: This story may contain material that is not suitable for all audiences and may offend some readers. Also, Author is an American attempting to use British witticisms and slang. This may not always be a successful endeavor.

Reviews: Reviews of any sort are welcomed. Constructive criticism, such as pointing out writing errors or unexplained out of character-ness, are very great and tremendously welcomed with wide open arms and mind. Scathing reviews targeting content based upon perceived insults and/or offensiveness to any of the following: race, religion/spirituality/philosophy, disability, political opinion, ethnicity, sexuality, or inclusion (real or perceived) in a particular social group, will be considered flames and reported justly. I do not care if you wish to put forth hate, but do it in a calm, rational manner or do it somewhere else.

ʘ Another note about reviews before I go and update this thing: if you spend the time and effort to give me a lengthy review, I will try to remember to reply, so please do so while signed in so that I may. It probably won't be promptly, so be prepared for that, but I will do my best. I will try to fix any errors that are pointed out as quickly as possible. Regardless of length, I read every review and I love passionate expressions of enjoyment. Seriously. It's like writer-nip.

Author's Note: This story is being updated for formatting and continuity issues. It has also come to my attention that JKR has given Mrs. Lovegood a name in a Pottermore article. It's a good name, I'm sure, but I'm not going to use it because …reasons… Dione is being used instead. Again, for reasons. In case that's not vague enough.

-= LP =-

The Schrodinger Effect

Part 1: The Empty Tower

-= LP =-

"It was a fine cry—loud and long—but it had no bottom and it had no top, just circles and circles of sorrow." – Toni Morrison, Sula

-= LP =-

It's funny how silence can be so loud.

After my beloved Dione had died, it had been silent here in the Rookery for weeks. The brief moments when Luna and I would exchange a few lines that even now in memory seem like they would easily fit in a muggle primary play…they didn't do anything to really relieve it, but they were a damned sight better than what I've got now. Dione's mother, Phoebe, had shattered that silence that lingered with her usual…flair…There's no hope of a repeat performance. Phoebe passed away during Luna's third year due to a nasty case of Dragon Pox.

That's the crux of my problem, you see.

There's no hope.

Dione was stolen from me by the cruel mistress she served–that hard task manager of New Magic. I held on for my daughter, bright little Luna…Phoebe may have put me back together for her, but it was Luna's need for her father that kept me that way. My brilliant Luna, so brave in the light of everything, all the Darkness that the world has to offer. They took her, the bastards. They stole my little girl right off the Hogwarts Express as she made her way from the warzone of Hogwarts back to the safety of our home.

Why did they, you ask?

They wanted me to not print the Truth, of course. The Dark Lord didn't want the Light side to have any possibility of a rallying point and Truth had a way of mobilizing people, a way of propelling them down the path of what is right and not easy. I cannot say that I was strong enough to remember that as I faced down the knowledge that my precious and beloved Luna was …somewhere…Oh, sweet Goddess, I don't even know where she was hidden.

What changed, you ask?

Harry Potter. What else? I met him…in my living room. There's this aura about him, you see…he doesn't expect anything, and by that very act of obliviousness, he shows one the Truth of their actions. Like a mirror that reflects only what you present to it, he propels you to look at yourself.

I could not, ultimately, face the image of myself I saw in his eyes the moment that he realized that I had sacrificed my principles and the only hope that Britannia, and perhaps, even the world, had…just on the off chance that they would do as they say and release my daughter to me. I am no longer a man of which my daughter can be proud. And I must face certain unpleasant facts about my situation.

They've had Luna for two months and three days now. I have no proof of her state of wellbeing. I do have proof that her captors are cruel, heartless brutes who should not be allowed around Knockturn Alley whores, let alone a young witch barely of age. They've done this before, this disappearing act with loved ones. To date, none have been returned except in pieces or as corpses.

My Luna…my moonbeam…my brave, sweet, brilliant girl…she is gone.

And all that is left is the silence of an empty home.

I am going to the Ministry to inquire with the Snatchers one last time. I will not be shunted away this time. Should that happen, I will do what any man, what any father would do. I will take out as many of them as I can before they stop me. I updated my will with the Goblins, even though it still includes my Luna. Harry Potter has worked miracles before. Perhaps…perhaps he'll do the impossible once more and free my Luna from her prison, wherever she be.

But I must be the role model that my daughter would need. So this is my final publication, my little farewell to the world.

And to the silence that haunts me.

Xenophilius Lovegood

Quibbler Editor in Chief

-= LP =-

Luna let the letter fall from her now-trembling hands. It fluttered to the ground like a feather. Suddenly her knees felt as strong as a cooked noodle. They crumpled beneath her. She shivered despite the May heat as she struggled with the enormous concept placed before her by those little purple words written in her father's hand. She had been expecting…They had won. Tears stung her eyes. They had won. But she was alone.

In the silence.

She felt it building in the back of her throat, threatening to choke her. She swallowed hard in an attempt to dislodge it. It hadn't helped when she watched the spell backfire and kill her mother before her very eyes. Nor did it ever help with the nightmares that followed. But the pain in her chest just kept compressing, pushing up the scream. When it finally came, it was like a banshee's wail. It hurt, oh Goddess, how it hurt. It was like all the pain in the world had been stabbed right into the very body of her soul. She screamed again, hoping against hope that there would be something…some relief from the excruciating torture of the knowledge that they had won but much too late for the Lovegood family.

The silence mocked her, almost deafeningly loud with its emptiness.

They had won.

But she had lost.

Everything.