Gil exited the Great Hall and the door swung closed behind him with a loud, hollow thud. All eyes watched his beautiful, half-ghost figure go out to fight, to vanquish, and to save the day. An eerie silence fell upon the clamorous group of students in the Great Hall, but it was broken quickly by Hermione.

"He's doomed! His amp only goes to eleven!" cried Hermione. Gil's groupies fell upon their sharpest utensil at the thought of never hearing his smooth, tenor voice ever again. Chaos returned and soon students were slipping on spilled food, diving under tables, and lamenting their inevitable doom.

"He cannot die! He is half-ghost!" countered Harry, whose ankle was being magically bound by Mel.

"But can he half-die?" asked Ron seriously, running his hand through his thick red hair.

"I don't See him dying, either half or whole," said Mel, patting Harry's leg reassuringly. Harry flashed a smile at her, the first he'd flashed in a long while. At least since the last time he was happy, which was never.

Professor McGonagall rushed past them, pushing Colin Creevey into a table as she bustled past. Ginny grabbed her arm and swung her around.

"Isn't there something you can do for us? For Gil?" she pleaded, her voice cracking as she choked on her tears.

"No," said McGonagall irritably, "Dumbledore's escape has locked the teacher exits and we've tried to open them, but we can't guess the password because of his bizarre fetish for sugary candy."

Professor McGonagall pushed through the throng of hysterical students and away from Ginny, who burst into wave after wave of tears.

Ron and Mel helped Harry onto the bench. Harry reclined with his back against the table and sighed. For the first time, he was not the one rushing off to save the day. The battle today was against an apparition from his past! The Grim that he had seen in his third year had actually been his own godfather all along. And now, with the Grim loose in the castle, Harry sat powerless to stop it. A part of him, the heroic part of his cold, black, withered angst-ridden soul died. Mel sat beside Harry, her heart breaking as she gazed upon Harry who looked so pathetic and crestfallen that Mel's eyes began to swim in tears.

"Harry, don't be discouraged. With all that goes around here, I'm sure you'll save the day again," said Mel in the most soothing voice that she could muster, "I mean, you've pretty much saved the day for a few years now, right?"

"Do not try and comfort me, sweet Mel, for I am a lost cause. A failure neither worth your time nor your effort. If only Voldemort's killing curse had struck me dead, then surely this world would be better off and-"

Mel covered her ears, "Harry, don't say such things. Your angst is far too depressing. I demand that you stop this at once!"

Harry stared at his shoes and sighed. Ron burst onto the scene looking absolutely panic-striken.

"GIL HAS BEEN GONE A LONG TIME. SOMETHING MUST HAVE HAPPENED," Ron hollered, clearly unable to control the volume of his voice.

"It's only been three minutes, Ron!" snapped Ginny.

----------------------

Gil stood in the hallway and tossed his silver bangs from his eyes, which were glowing in the dark so he could see better in the dark. Gil's fingers nervously drummed on Darke Thorne. No, he must face this with courage. After all, he was half-ghost and had nothing to fear.

"I will seek out The Grim and rock him so hard that he goes back to where he came from!" said Gil to himself, striking a bold chord on his bass in emphasis.

"YES!" cried an enthusiastic suit of armor in a booming voice as Gil walked past. The suit of armor gave Gil a thumbs up.

"I should begin at the closet where The Grim was resurrected. Perhaps there are some clues there," said Gil as he chose a particularly winding corridor and made his way to the closet. As he began getting closer, he could sense in the very depths of his half-ghost soul that the Grim was close. Very close. Too close. Gil tightened his grip on Darke Thorne, ready to rock at a moment's notice.

Then, Gil heard it; the scraping of large claws on the cold, stone castle floor, frantic snuffling noises, the quiet padding of large paws. The Grim! It was in the Potions classroom. Gil gripped the doorknob with his perfectly manicured fingers and flung open the door.

The classroom was dimly lit and the shelves of potions looked eerie in the dark. Some potions glowed, bubbled, or fizzed. Gil's eyes glowed as they adjusted to the shady room. The angry snuffing of the large Grim continued and a desk in the back of the classroom budged as a large, shadowy form bumped into it. Gil readied Darke Thorne and jumped into the aisle where The Grim was.

The silver streaks in the Grim's fur glittered in the dim light of the classroom; the rest of its black fur was matted and knotted. It's kinked tail swished back and forth slowly, ominously. The black beast with eyes that glowed like reflectors was emaciated; its ribs could be counted. Nevertheless, it looked powerful and intimidating before Gil, its pearly white fangs bared in a sharp grin and its pointed ears pressing flat back against its head.

"Grim," said Gil to the large dog before him, "Er, maybe, Sirius? Well, either way. I'm half-Ghost, so you have no reason to-"

But the Grim (er, maybe Sirius?) charged at Gil, its large paws slipping on the stone floor for a moment before gaining traction. Gil leapt aside, wheeling towards the Grim and strumming the strings of Darke Thorne in an angry riff that rocked the Grim so hard that it backpedaled, skidding into a desk. A cauldron fell to the floor with a loud, hollow bang. Vials with potions fell to the floor with a sound like a symphony of chimes. The Grim shook and regained its confidence. It charged again. Gil was shocked—had Darke Thorne only managed to stun the Grim? If that?

Gil barely had time to react before the Grim was upon him, two heavy paws on his shoulders that pushed him savagely against a desk and onto the floor. Gil grit his perfectly white and shiny teeth and forced Darke Throne betwixt him and the Grim, pressing his bass guitar up against the beast in an effort to throw the Grim off. Gil tried to maneuver away from the Grim's snapping jaws, managing to roll the Grim off him with a quick thrust. The Grim tumbled into the side of a rather large and very burnt cauldron and whimpered. It snarled at Gil before turning and dashing through the wall and into the classroom next door.

Gil got to his feet and, without bothering to steady himself, dashed out of the Potions classroom in search of the Grim in the next room.