James shrugged. "It's worth a shot. I guess you have the summer to practice the whole brooding silence bit."

        "I guess so."

        James suddenly sat up. "So do you think you'll be the new Gryffindor ghost?" he asked. "I mean, with Nearly Headless Nick gone on to wherever ghosts go, we don't have a House ghost anymore."

Cedric thought for a moment. "I don't think so, really. Sorry. I was a Hufflepuff, remember?"

James slumped back. "Yeah. I forgot."

        A few minutes went by, and then Cedric spoke again. "That was a pretty great thing you did, going out and calling Merlin back to help us out when it seemed like he'd left for good."

        James lifted his head and looked at the ghost. He frowned a little. "That? Well, it was just a shot in the dark, really. It was all my fault Merlin was brought to this time at all. I thought I was doing the world this big favor, standing in the way of Delacroix's and Jackson's evil plan. Turns out she was using me all along and Jackson was actually a good guy."

        "Well?" Cedric countered. "You learned something, then, didn't you?"

        "I don't know," James said automatically. He thought for a moment and then added, "Yeah, I guess I did."

        "There is one way that you and your dad are one and the same, James," Cedric said.

        James laughed a little humorlessly. "I can't see what it is. All I learned is that my way of doing things isn't Dad's. If I try to do it his way, I screw everything up. If I try to do it my way, I might help things scrape by on sheer luck. Dad's way was the way of the hero. My way is the way of the manager. My best talent is asking for help."

"No, James," Cedric said, leaning forward to look James directly in the eye, "your best talent is inspiring people to want to help. You think that's no big deal? The world needs people like you, because most of the people out there don't have the courage or the passion or the direction to be heroes. They want to be, but they need someone to tell them why, and to show them how. You have that gift, James. Your dad was a hero because he was the Boy Who Lived. He had a destiny. It wasn't an easy road for him, but it was an obvious road. There was Harry and there was Voldemort. He knew where he stood and what he had to do, even if it killed him. You, though… you are a hero because you choose to be one, every day. And you have the talent to encourage others to choose that, too."

        James stared into the banked coals of the fire. "I'm no hero."

        Cedric smiled and sat back again. "You only think that because you think heroes always win. Trust me on this one, James. A hero isn't defined by winning. Loads of heroes die in the effort. Most of them never get any recognition. No, a hero is just somebody who does the right thing when it would be far, far easier to do nothing."

        James turned to look at the ghost, smiling crookedly. "Maybe we should call you 'the Specter of Cheesiness.'"

        "Ha, ha," the ghost replied.

        James stood up again. "Thanks, Cedric. That… helps."

        Cedric nodded. James headed back for the stairs, but stopped with his foot on the bottom step. "One thing still bothers me, though, Cedric. Maybe you know something about it, being a ghost and all."

        "Maybe. Ask me."

        "The dryad in the forest said that there was an heir of Voldemort. She said that this person was alive and nearby, right here on the school grounds."

Cedric nodded slowly. "I was there when you told Snape about it."

        "Well, whoever that is, I think that's who took Ralph's GameDeck and used the name Austramaddux. If that hadn't happened, none of this would've come about. Whoever it is had to have been working with Miss Sacarhina from the very beginning."

        Cedric looked away, out a nearby window. "You think you know who it is?"

        "Tabitha Corsica," James said flatly. "I thought it might be her after I talked to Snape and I still think it could be her. So her broom wasn't the Merlin staff. There's still something scary about it. And about her in general."

        Cedric stood and walked through the chair, apparently without noticing he was doing so. "I've felt something, James. I'll admit that to you. There is a sense of He Who Must Not Be Named here still. It lingers within the halls. It's like a smell, like something rancid and oozing and… purple, somehow. Maybe I am more sensitive to it than the other ghosts. After all, he was responsible for my death."

        "Yeah," James said quietly. "I hadn't forgotten."

        "But James, things are rarely as obvious as we'd like to think they are. In the real world, at least in our time, if not in Merlin's, evil wears many masks. It's confusing. You have to be very careful. Sometimes, even good people can look bad. A lot of us, your father included, made that mistake when it came to Professor Snape."

        "So did I," James admitted. "With Professor Jackson."

        Cedric nodded.

        "But I would've sworn that Tabitha was involved in the whole Merlin conspiracy. What do you think the real story is with her and her broom?"

        Cedric looked at James for a long moment, studying him. "Did it ever occur to you that her broom might be exactly what she says it is?"

        "What?" James scoffed. "A 'Muggle artifact'? That's just a ruse she came up with, isn't it?"

        Cedric shrugged, but it looked more like the shrug of someone who knows more than he intends to tell. "The scariest people in the world are not always the ones who are bent on evil, James. Sometimes, the scariest person is the one who mistakes their own lies for the truth."

        James blinked. "You mean… Tabitha Corsica believes all that stuff she said in the debate? About Voldemort actually being a good guy? That he was squashed by the Ministry and the magical ruling class because they couldn't have him changing the status quo? She can't really believe that, can she?"

        Cedric looked back at James, and then sighed. "Honestly, I don't know. But I do know that lots of people do believe it. And she seems pretty sincere about it. That broom of hers may have some scary mojo built into it, but it's nothing compared to the dark magic someone might conjure if their heart is crooked enough to twist a lie into something they believe is truth."