Disclaimer: I do not own the basic plot/characters, etc. OK? Happy now?

Note: italics are dreams, *asterisks are thoughts* and #hashes are song lyrics, singing, etc#

A/N: Hello! Welcome to chapter 16 of The PWOL! I didn't actually expect to get this far – I guess it's just the way the story has panned out. I have to say this has been the most entertaining fanfic to write. And to all my reviewers – you rock! If you like all of this, read the rest of my stuff too.

Chapter 16: Cinders, You SHALL Go To The Ball And Attempt To Recover A Soul!

Harry and Neville could only gasp in shock and wonder at the décor of the Great Hall. It was all white – white as Persian cat, white as snow, white as a white rose. The total house banners had disappeared and had been replaced by waltzing candles. Yes, waltzing candles. Unfortunately, they liked dripping wax upon everybody (a shriek could be heard from Hermione's direction when it landed on her head). And there was a Butterbeer table, and lots of low couches backed against the walls, and glass coffee tables… and Hermione was in the centre of it all, soaking it up in an airhead teenage manner. Ron was looking decidedly embarrassed.

          Meanwhile, Neville ran over to the buffet table (unfortunately run by the Weasley brothers…) and collected seven fig rolls, three bags of crisps, four chocolate frogs and six pumpkin pies. Plus about ten bottles of Butterbeer.

          "Is there anything you want food-wise, Harry?" Neville shouted across the thronging hall. Many people stopped and stared – possibly thinking *what the f---? *  

          "Um… yeah. I'll have what you have," he shouted back uncertainly. The duo left the hall amidst nervous glances and wandered outside and sat down on the grass. Neville ate noisily while Harry drank greedily.

          "So, when are we going to do this thing?" Neville asked.     

          "When we finish drin – I mean, eating."

Two hours later and Harry was decidedly drunk. How, you may ask, as Butterbeer is not alcoholic? Well, Dumbledore thought that these students had better have a bit of fun. After all, they were all at least 16, so they could choose their own (if slightly tipsy) path in life.

          Foolish man.

          They strolled up to Dumbledore's office dreamily, and knocked on the door. McGonagall answered, still with nothing behind those dark blue eyes. Harry briefly felt his heart sink, and then remembered they were SAVING her, goddamit!

          "Minerva – come with us," Harry said, and held out his hand for her. Fawkes randomly followed them out of the door as he led her gently through the school to her office. She looked around, her eyes darting back and forth, struggling to take it all in.

          "Here we are," Harry said patronizingly as they entered her tartan office. He sat her down on her chair and picked up Cheesabell, who had begun to purr loudly. "This is your cat," he said. "Cheesabell. Do you remember?" Fawkes suddenly decided t make a lunge at Cheesabell and presently got scratched on the wing. *Stupid bird, * thought Harry. Fawkes then decided to take a little bath in a small silver bowl in the corner of the room. He could also be heard to be shitting in the bowl as well. *Stupid bird, * thought Harry again.

          Fawkes stopped shitting, and a red light shot out of the silver bowl.

          It flashed around the room, bounced off the walls, hit Cheesabell, and pinged off her desk and straight into McGonagall's mouth. She fell back onto the floor, convulsing violently. Harry and Neville ran to help her, and realized there was nothing they could do.

          All of a sudden she stopped.

          All was quiet.

          Harry and Neville stopped breathing.

And McGonagall stood up and exclaimed, "What are you doing in my office?!"

It was the best sentence Harry had ever heard in his entire life.

          "McGonagall?" he tested.

          "Yes, Harry?" she said with caution.

          "McGonagall – it's OK. I'm not… I'm not mad. Anymore." She stared for a second and then turned to Neville.

          "What's going on?" she asked. "Where's Dumbledore? What day is it?"

          "Harry gave you your soul back, Dumbledore's at the ball, and it's a Friday."     

          "Good. BALL?! The GRADUATION BALL?! OH DEAR GODS!" She cried and rushed out in a mass of black cloak.

          "Harry?" said Neville nervously. Harry sat down weakly on the floor. "What – what did you do?"

          "I didn't. I didn't do a thing…" Harry was of course feeling rather foolish.

          Who would have realized all you have to do to get a soul back is to get a phoenix to shit in a Pensive bowl?

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There you go! But it's not over yet… 2 more lovely chapters to go!!

Gnat Girl