"I didn't think that I'd have to use this so soon," said Gil, brandishing his guitar in a manner that would have left a lesser half-man on his knees – Gil had both feet firmly planted upon the ground (or as firm as a half-ghost could expect to be planted upon the ground). "A secret, passed down through the ages! It rests solely in my hands, and now I call upon it! Tremble in abject fear, for your hope of success is nil!"
Suddenly, just before Gil's hand was about to strum a chord which would have undone the very fabric of the world, we'll say cotton, and refashioned it into some other sort of fabric, maybe tulle, there was an unearthly wail, and from out of the ground arose the spirit of Dolores Umbridge!
"Oh, Hem Hem!" she cried. "Hem! HEEEEEEM!" She flailed her ghostly hands about, pawing at the air in the general direction of Gil. "HEM!"
"Uh," said Gil, pausing and not completing the Riff From Beyond, "yeah?"
"I was eaten by THE GRIM, HEM!" she wailed.
"How could that skinny dog – I can see his ribs – manage to eat all of you? You're totally fat, if he ate you his stomach would explode or something."
"He ate me, hem!" she cried once more.
"Listen, I'm half-ghost, but even I can't stand you," said Gil. "Nobody likes you, I mean, even Moaning Myrtle does backup on some of my songs sometimes and I'll admit, she's hard to like, but you, nobody would ever use you as backup; you couldn't even make some remix done for a rave filled with bouncy teens hopped up on E."
"Hem?" said the ghost of Dolores Umbridge.
Gil raised his hands, "Thro' the world of spirits and spectyres, I send you to your final resting place, the undoing of the chains which bind you to this mortal sphere I now claim!" He meant business, and was about to banish her forever from the mortal world – being a half-ghost, he was fully qualified to do such things. A pale and dim light, both blue and red pulsed in the air surrounding Gil. The Grim, being a creature of flesh, felt nothing, but the strain upon Gil was apparent, his half-ghost side feeling the spell which he was calling. The effect on Dolores Umbridge was, however, that much more apparent, as she appeared, in effect, to be in even more pain that the amount of pain that Gil appeared to be experiencing from the affects of his spell.
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Back in the Great Hall, Neville was still holding on to the hair ribbon which belonged to Dolores Umbridge – when suddenly it burst into flame. "Ow!" he cried, dropping it to the floor.
Mel's pain sensor went off. She could feel the physical pain being felt by Neville. "Oh!" she cried, "if only I were not also an Empath, in addition to being a Seer!" She swooned in Harry's arms.
"Mel!" he cried. "Mel, revive yourself! What has gone wrong! Mel, return to the world of the awake and the living! Is there no hope left to me? Is there nothing left in this unfair world in which I might find joy? The smile which was upon my face is now gone, gone!"
"Harry," said Ginny, coming up to him, "I thought that you, well, you know…" she said, looking as if she were going to burst into tears.
"The terrible monster that once lived in my breast which raged and tore at my heartstrings whenever I saw you in the arms of another is gone – it has been slain by a hand other than my own. I am sorry, Ginny, but I cannot at this time return your affections – my sorrows have replaced the joy I once felt."
Ginny burst into tears.
Professor Trelawny vomited into an urn.
When suddenly there was a terrible sound that hurt everyone's ears!
"Oh!" cried Nearly Headless Nick. "This is the unearthly wail of a spirit who is being forcibly forced back through the veil betwixt the living and the dead! The curtain which separates the worlds is being forced open for a moment to thrust some specter through against their will! Who could do this, this one act that I myself cannot bring myself to do? Who here in this school is capable of such an act? Oh, if my head were not connected to my neck by the slimmest of connective tissues, I would surely lose it! I flee!" With that, he floated downwards through the floor until nothing could be seen of him.
"No one is outside of this room, except Dumbledore and Gil!" said Ron. "It must be one of them! There is no possible egress from this chamber!"
"Wait, I came into the room, remember?" said Neville. "And Gil managed to just walk out of the doors."
"I said egress! You were ingress, and Gil is a half-ghost!" Ron said, punching Neville in the stomach.
"My innards!" cried Neville. "Why have you punched me in such a place?"
"Herd mentality! Everyone is freaking out! We're fast becoming an unruly mob! I'm a prefect!"
Mel suddenly shot up, out of Harry's arms, and shrieked, "Deasil! Deasil! Why was it not deasil!"
Harry looked deep into her aquamarine eyes, his emerald eyes reflecting back into her own, and making her eyes really more of a sapphire color, or perhaps jade. "Mel! Mel, what's wrong?"
Mel's fawn locks shone in the candlelight of the Great Hall, with their auburn and raven highlights even more accented than usual. "Again! The portents and signs come before me! All is clear! I have Seen! I understand the situation wholly!"
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Gil had successfully banished the foul spirit of Dolores Umbridge to the world beyond – a banishment was much quicker than a summoning, but took more out of a person, even if they were half-ghost. The Grim still lived (as much as a Grim could live), and Gil was now too weary to be able to complete The Perfect Chord. His hands moved down his bass, and played a quick succession of notes – he only hoped that such a slapstick job as he was doing would work.
The progression of chords struck filled the air with an unearthly bassline that called across worlds, and summoned the spirits of Gil's groupies who, for his sake, had killed themselves in sorrow – he hated to call upon them now, but it was his only hope. His only question was – would it be enough?
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"Pixie Stix!" cried Dumbledore, as he flew through his office, searching, searching. He thought that he remembered inventing Grim-B-Gone, but if he had, where was it, and if he hadn't, then why had he been doodling label designs and advertisement slogans on his napkins for like two months a couple of years ago? Would he find it in time? Did it even exist? Would he ever find all of those missing socks of his? He only prayed that he might.
