Author's Note(s): I have to admit that I love the extremely subtle shipper on board that I've worked into this chapter. Of course, Harry is oblivious as usual. Someone needs to sit him down and explain certain things to him. I'm fairly certain that the poor boy will not get it otherwise.

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The Schrodinger Effect

Part 05: Laughing Gods

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"Remember when the darkness wasn't all you had to see? Remember when a part of you still hoped for what could be? Well, I got this suit of armor and a sword I need to swing. Wake, wake, wake up, child."

– The Rigs, All the King's Men

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Harry knew that he shouldn't be nervous. They were his friends. They had been his friends for years and they had been through so much together. It was just a birthday party. It wasn't even his first one—Mrs. Weasley had arranged one for him last year. He looked over the arrangements which Augusta had supervised a small army of house elves into producing and placing for the party. Harry himself hadn't known it was supposed to be a combined birthday party until three days before when he received a letter from Hermione scolding him for not letting Molly know she didn't need to plan a party because Augusta Longbottom had already been doing so. When Harry had asked for confirmation from Augusta, the woman had looked at him with the same expression Neville used for new plants and then informed him that the appointment for his dress robes was that afternoon and that he would be there. Harry had followed Neville's example and simply obeyed. Now dressed in brand new dress robes and looking over what Harry was starting to believe may be more a ball than party, Harry was contemplating whether Augusta would let him live if he disappeared for the evening rather than face the collected guests, especially his friends.

He startled when he felt arms sliding around his waist, but when the rest of her pressed against him from behind, Harry recognized Luna. The gesture had been growing fairly common between them, but Luna took to doing it nearly every time she came up behind him since the day he had formally made Lily a Potter elf. He could feel her cheek press against his back and even through the layers of fabric which made up his robe and the under-outfit, he could feel her breath. Closing his eyes, he focused on the steadiness of her and allowed his own breathing mimic hers.

He knew that he shouldn't, but he was honest enough to admit that he looked forward to these little ambushes of Luna's. They were far more relaxing than the times when Ginny would jump him for a quick and fast snog. Not that the two women could really be compared to each other. Ginny was everything one would expect from a Weasley—bright and brilliant like the sun. She threw herself entirely into anything she did, not letting anything hold her back without consequence. She devoured life and still demanded more. Luna was more like the moon she shared names with—just as brilliant and bright as the sun, but in a way that promised peace and whispered secrets. Luna could become just as obsessed with things (as proven by her continued research into methods of traveling through time), but the force of that obsession was not like a fire which devoured obstacles. It was more like an ocean relentlessly but gently beating against the barrier. Like Harry, Luna seemed to find the most enjoyment out of the quiet moments which made up life. She was just as content to listen to Harry read to Lily as she was riding with Neville on the (thankfully non-magical) horses which filled the Thistlewood stables.

"Neville knew, didn't he?" Harry questioned after Luna had coaxed him away from his worry. If Neville knew that this was bigger than a mere birthday party, it would explain his behavior over the last couple of weeks. The only time that Harry had seen him was when the three of them were going to sleep and occasionally at breakfast. Otherwise, Neville had been in the study with Augusta or in the greenhouse which he had warned Harry and Luna to not enter without him directly with them, as it housed the more actively aggressive specimens. He felt her nod. He didn't want to know but he still found himself asking. "Did you?"

"I suspected," Luna murmured against his back. "It's traditional to host a ball for the birthday of a young peer after he has finished his schooling. Since both you and Neville are not returning to Hogwarts in the fall, this would count. Ideally, it would not have been sprung on you like this, but maybe Augusta didn't realize that you didn't know? I only knew for certain when she cornered me earlier for my own fitting." He went to pull away, wanting to see her because she sounded so hesitant and Luna simply wasn't, not about anything. Her arms tightened around his waist, not letting him move enough to even turn. She soothed away any protest he would have made by stroking his stomach like he was one of the thestrals. "I'll let you go, but first I need you to understand that Augusta insisted and well, I'm not a Gryffindor for a reason."

"I'd rather face down another Horntail, honestly," Harry assured her. She laughed before letting him go. Carefully, almost timidly, he turned to look at her. It struck him as he stared that she was beautiful. It was a similar feeling to seeing Hermione dressed for the Yule Ball, but it had a current of hunger to it that was utterly unfamiliar. There was no doubt that he was looking at Luna, the girl he had gone to school with and who had needed rescuing from Malfoy's dungeon only to return the favor by rescuing him from the grief of losing Dobby. At the same time, she was also the woman he had spent the last couple months working beside to rebuild their school, the woman who dared to defy the natural laws of the universe just for a chance to make things right. She still had the strength that filled Harry with pride as he remembered that she was his friend yet she also retained the fragility that allowed Harry the excuse of sleeping beside her warmth. The contradiction was just so quintessentially Luna that the perfection stole his breath.

Luna was resplendent in the dark navy dress with woad-colored knotwork embroidered over it. It seemed to be made of layers of wispy fabric which turned the navy into a deep indigo. The darkness stood out against her pale skin, of which plenty was showing as the neckline plummeted to swathe of black fabric marking her waist. Her long hair had been put into some complicated hairdo made of braids. Over it all was a net that glimmered where it was not a violet that matched the thick matte ribbon encircling Luna's slim neck. Her eyes glinted like stars. She had never looked more other-worldly as she did right then, had never appeared to be more like a moon goddess in mortal form.

"I…Luna," he said, and the syllables seemed loud in the silence that hung between them. She bit her lips nervously and a dangerous curiosity twisted within him, questioning if they tasted like the same as raspberries like they were colored. Her hands came together to grip each other tightly, not moving in the wringing motion that Hermione would have used, just tense. He was not the most observant of blokes, but he knew her well enough to recognize that she was terrified of something. Harry reached for her, two months of exchanging comfort making the gesture far easier than it had ever been with Ginny or even Hermione. She tensed as his hand cupped the back of her neck but relaxed as he pulled her into a careful embrace, both mindful of their attire and Augusta's wrath should they wrinkle or otherwise become mussed. "I don't know what you're worrying about, but I'll take care of it, if you'd only tell me. If it's about your outfit, I don't understand because you—you look stunning. Breathtaking."

"You don't—"

"Should I come back later?" At Neville's quip, Luna pulled back to look at him. Harry found that watching Neville's eyes go wide at their friend's showcased beauty to be surprisingly satisfying. His hazel eyes flickered to Harry who felt exposed in ways that only Luna made him feel in the past. Nervous, Harry tugged on his dark purple waistcoat in lieu of fiddling with his steel-colored bow-tie again. Kreacher had redone the knot three times before he was satisfied with how the bright blue swirls were presented and Harry didn't want to risk messing up the little guy's hard work. Despite cooling charms, the black dress robes he wore open over the outfit felt stifling suddenly. Neville looked like he had been hit with a Confundus Charm. "Oh," he said with a high and trilly voice. "That's what Gran meant."

"Neville," Luna said urgently. His eyes snapped to her. "He doesn't know."

"Come, children," Augusta urged as she descended the stairs behind them. "We've guests beginning to arrive and we must be prepared to meet them. Miss Lovegood, please attend to the Floo Room with Neville. I'll keep Mr. Potter with me for instructive purposes."

Harry thanked whichever deity would listen that he knew what was expected of him and didn't pause longer than a beat before offering the dowager his arm to escort her to the front doors. Augusta gave his arm a reassuring whack with her closed fan. At least, Harry thought it was probably supposed to be reassuring because her frown softened slightly as she looked at him in a side glance. Looking back over the years, perhaps it was best that it was Voldemort who tried to take over Britain, because Augusta would have been considerably scarier. Harry hadn't been joking about preferring to face another Horntail. If it had been just Voldemort, even that confrontation would be preferable to facing Augusta on a warpath.

The next hour was a blur of faces. Thankfully, he wasn't required to shake everyone's hands like he had been when Hagrid took him the Leaky Cauldron the first time. As it was, Harry's back was beginning to ache from maintaining the posture Augusta demanded along with executing the perfect half-bow. Any time his shoulders slumped even the tiniest bit, Augusta's fan would hit him on the shoulder closest to her. It was never hard, but it was unerringly on the same spot. He would certainly have a bruise.

Hermione and the Weasleys arrived through the Floo, but the large group made a point to seek out Harry first thing. Augusta's grip on her fan tightened. Harry had the impression that she wanted to whack the entire group with the woad-colored contraption but was restraining the urge. If Mrs. Weasley and Augusta decided to duel, Harry wanted to be on the side of the planet. Mrs. Weasley had taken out Bellatrix Lestrange on her own and even as lady-like as she always presented herself, Harry had found Augusta's trophies from various dueling competitions that ranged from the years she would have been at Hogwarts until seventeen years ago. Between them would not be a safe place.

In addition to the displeasure of the two matriarchs, Harry could tell that Hermione and Ginny didn't seem overly happy about something as well. Harry couldn't think of anything that he had done that would have upset them beyond the mixup with the party that he hadn't even known about before Hermione's letter—and they couldn't honestly blame him for that. Even complimenting them on their gowns didn't seem to have any effect on their general peevishness. Neither of them caused his breath to stutter like Luna had, but Hermione always looked lovely in periwinkle and the dark gray of Ginny's dress made her hair look like captivating flames. Unfortunately, it appeared that Ron had not even picked up on his sister and girlfriend's mutual irritation, so there was no help from that quarter. Augusta only let the group stay for a few minutes before dismissing them to enter the ballroom on their own so that she and Harry could continue greeting their guests.

The evening went quickly once Harry was allowed to join the guests as well. Thankfully, Augusta didn't even hint that she wanted Harry to open the ball as he had the Yule Ball of the Triwizard Tournament. He was content to watch as Neville expertly danced with Luna. They made a striking pair, Harry noted. If Luna was a goddess of the night, then Neville must be some kind of forest god. Like Harry, he wore a black dress shirt and slacks. However, where Harry's open robes were black and his waistcoat violet, Neville's robes were a dark green and his waistcoat was the same rich woad that matched the knotwork on Luna's dress and Augusta's accessories. When Luna leaned against Neville to whisper into his ear, Harry was struck by an odd appreciation of just how well woad matched his friend's eyes. Had they always been that striking a blue? Neville laughed at whatever Luna had said with his whole body, throwing his head back and making his golden hair gleam in the candlelight. Harry sighed wistfully as his friends stared into each other's eyes drifting into oblivion to the other couples joining them on the dancefloor.

A person pressing against his side pulled Harry from his observation of Neville and Luna. The scent of yarrow told him that it was Ginny even before he looked. The flower grew all over the Burrow and Mrs. Weasley used it to scent the toiletries she made for her youngest. Harry only knew the name of it because Aunt Petunia always complained about how common it was and forced Harry to pull it whenever it dared to grow in her garden. He had always thought it had an understated charm.

Looking at his girlfriend, Harry was surprised to find that she was glaring at Neville and Luna like she wanted to set them on fire with her eyes. Confusion filled him. Why wasn't she happy for their friends? It had to be clear that they would soon become a couple, especially since Ginny hadn't been around for the slow growth of the feelings they were currently reflecting towards each other. Maybe she was jealous?

"Would you like to dance, Gin?"

It was the only thing he could think she wanted. He honestly was no better than he was at the Yule Ball, but if Ginny wanted to dance, he would try. Thankfully, it seemed the right thing to say, because Ginny beamed at him before taking the offer of his arm. Her smile was smug as he led her onto the dancefloor. Harry tried to remember the proper hold but drew a blank initially. Catching sight of his roommates, Harry slid his hands into the same places Neville was holding Luna. He counted the beats in his head before sweeping Ginny into the motions of a waltz.

"Have you heard back from the Harpies yet?"

"Oh, um, yes," Ginny replied. She flushed as her lips pursed. "They'd prefer a player with more experience. Let's not talk about them." There was a flourish to the music and out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Neville spin with Luna. A beat behind them, Harry moved Ginny the same way. "Hermione has been organizing the shopping trip for next week."

"Shopping trip?"

"For Hogwarts," Ginny answered, sounding puzzled. "The letters came the day before yesterday, remember?"

"Oh, I'm not going back." Harry spun Ginny again as the orchestra flourished again. "Neither are Neville and Luna. We've got appointments to sit the NEWTs in December."

"Not going back? But you didn't tell me! Or any of us! We've been planning everything to return to school! What do you mean that you're not going back!"

Ginny stopped their movements when she had begun her spiel, growing louder with each syllable. Harry was uncomfortably aware of how everyone was now watching them. It didn't help that he wasn't quite certain what he had done to warrant this level of outrage. He didn't hide his plans from his friends, not exactly. They just hadn't had the chance to discuss their plans for the future. They had been busy—there had just been so much to do.

"Ginny, maybe we should move this—"

"YOU!" Ginny screeched as she turned to Luna. "This was your idea, wasn't it!"

"I really think that this should be—"

"You don't get to decide things like that for Harry!"

"Neither do you," Neville said. Ginny's mouth snapped shut with a snick of her teeth. Harry felt nothing but relief for Neville's interference. Too many people underestimated the gardener, forgetting that the Hat chose Gryffindor despite Neville arguing against it. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss this. This is a party—"

"What is going on here?" Hermione demanded. Harry bit back a groan. Hermione would be sure to lecture him about the irresponsibility of not returning for his seventh year no matter what other plans he had carefully made with input from an actual adult with real world experience—Augusta may be the scariest woman Harry had ever met, but she was also without a doubt intelligent and experienced...and apparently coming this way if the parting of the gathered crowd was any indication. 'Oh, kill me now, please.'

"Harry's not going back to Hogwarts," Ginny tattled with far more desperation that Dudley had ever shown doing the same. Predictably, Hermione's eyes narrowed as she focused on Harry who was finding it hard to breathe around the lump of fear now choking him. He had thought being between Mrs. Weasley and Augusta would have been Bad, but this was far worse. Hermione, Ginny, and Augusta arguing about something Harry did or didn't do? Harry begged Neville with his eyes to save him from what must be certain and agonizing death. Neville looked like he was going to for a moment before Augusta managed to reach the group of teens. For all his jokes about running from his grandmother's wrath, Neville was too much of a Gryffindor to abandon his friends to it.

"What seems to be issue here?"

"I believe that Ginny has some issue with Harry's plans for his NEWTs, Gran," Neville said before either Ginny or Hermione could say anything. Luna had her hands folded together as she watched the proceedings. Her bottom lip dipped in the way that Harry knew meant she had caught the inside of it between her teeth, as obvious a tell of her anxiety as her folded hands. Augusta frowned more tightly than her normal frown, somehow without also thinning her lips as Aunt Petunia would or squinting like Mrs. Weasley did. It was really impressive and Harry kind of hoped that he'd be able to frown that way someday.

"Is that so? Pray tell, what is this issue?" The question was offered with a gentleness that made a shiver go down Harry's spine. If either Hermione or Ginny heard the subtle threat, it certainly didn't stop them from speaking in a rush over each other so that their words tangled in such a way that made understanding what they were each saying difficult.

"Harry is refusing to return to Hogwarts like he needs to—"

"Harry's abandoning his education and at such a time that the wizarding world needs—"

"That is quite enough prattling on," Augusta interrupted. Both girls squeaked as their complaints were abruptly silenced. The dowager drew herself up to her not-unimpressive height, reinforcing Harry's opinion that a Horntail would be a safer opponent. "You are correct that Mr. Potter will not be returning to Hogwarts when it opens in the fall. After much deliberation and consultation with myself, he is electing for independent study followed by sitting his NEWTs at the Ministry's winter proctor session. Regardless of you may have been led to believe, Mr. Potter is not required to attend Hogwarts, for any reason. He has already done the world an unquestioningly great service in vanquishing that upstart dark lord not once but twice. To ask more of him would be uncouth."

"I won't stand for this," Mrs. Weasley interjected. Harry vehemently wished that the ground would just open up and consume him already. Even after six years at Hogwarts, the weight of everyone's staring made him twitchy. Being at the center of a group of people with volatile tempers did nothing to ease that tension. This was quickly becoming even worse than the birthday he had blown up Aunt Marge or even the one where Dobby dropped a pudding on Mrs. Mason's head. It didn't help that Mrs. Weasley's face was as red as her hair. "How dare you speak to my daughter like that and then lecture on rudeness?! This isn't up for discussion, anyway. Of course Harry is going back to Hogwarts. He needs to finish his education just like the rest of my children."

"You fail to recognize that Mr. Potter is not one of your brood," Augusta declared. Her dark blue eyes focused entirely on Molly Weasley as she tapped her fan against her palm. Each beat matched every third of Harry's heart. "You do not have the right to make declarations for him. You presume too much and I will not tolerate it in my house any longer. Please leave and take your children with you."

"Fine!" Mrs. Weasley replied before beginning to herd Ginny, Ron, and Hermione out of the ballroom. She had gotten only a short distance before she realized that Harry wasn't following. "Come along, Harry dear. It's time to go."

"Um," Harry stuttered. He looked to his roommates standing beside him in silent question. Neville had his left hand cupping the back of Luna's neck as she stared back at Harry. She looked like she was about to cry again at the thought of him leaving—as if doing so would mean something more than trying to smooth things over with his girlfriend's mother, or as if someone was going to die. Harry didn't completely understand, but he could leave with Luna looking like that. He would face a thousand Horntails to erase those unshed tears. Raising his chin like he was facing Voldemort again, Harry turned to answer Mrs. Weasley. "I'm not leaving, Mrs. Weasley. I live here. I'm not going back to Hogwarts in the fall—I already have made other plans for my education. I appreciate that you care, but I'm not your child."

"You're as good as!" Mrs. Weasley declared and the painful reminder made fury burst in him. All the long nights talking about the past with Luna and comparing loss had given him a different perspective on the arguments between the Weasley matriarch and Sirius. He couldn't let this stand.

"I never was!" he roared, not caring about the people watching them any longer. "If I was, you would have done something when the twins and Ron had to rescue me after first year! You wouldn't have left me alone after Cedric was killed or after Sirius was! I am only ever one of your children when it is convenient for you—when it will win an argument. I already have family that does that—and I hate them! I gave up everything for other people and now I'm going to live for me."

"Harry Potter! Don't you take that tone with me, young man! You will apologize this minute!"

"I'm sorry if you're not okay with the choices that I'm making and if you think they're mistakes, but you know what? They're my mistakes to make and by god, I'm going to make them."

"You were asked to leave, Mrs. Weasley," Neville said, stepping in between the arguers. The blond had his back to Harry, and almost as if by habit was clear of his field of fire, in case wands were drawn and Harry needed the space. As comforting as it was, the gesture was spoke volumes about how Neville viewed Mrs. Weasley at that moment.

"Harry, you can't stay with them!" Ginny countered, her face unpleasantly splotched in her rage. "I don't know what is going on here, but you need to come home with us so that we can sort it out away from homewrecking sluts!"

"I'm not going anywhere!" Harry argued. Then his brain caught up with what his girlfriend had just said. "Wait—what? Who are you—you mean Luna?"

"Just come home, Harry," Ginny demanded. Harry stared at her, speechless. What the hell did she think that insulting Luna would accomplish? He couldn't believe that he had never seen her irrational jealousy before that moment. God, he was such an idiot.

"I am home, Ginny," he stated. He tried not to feel guilty when her brown eyes filled with tears before she fled the ballroom. Hermione stalked towards him in the same way he had watched her do to a certain Slytherin ferret back in third year. Harry may not have given into the need to step back from his best friend, but he was thankful when Neville fully blocked her approach just the same. Her quick-paced footfalls echoed in the strangely quiet ballroom a moment later. Mrs. Weasley huffed a breath of her own before herding her youngest son in their wake.

It felt like the end of something. His chest was too tight suddenly. This wasn't how things were supposed to be—this wasn't the way he had planned on spending his birthday or his life after the war. This wasn't the plan. Numbly, he let Luna pull him from the dance floor and out of the room entirely. Only when she had settled them on something and pressed his head against her shoulder did he give into the tears that were drowning him. The truth hurt too much right then, but with her arms wrapped around him, he knew only that he had meant every syllable.

He was already home.