James Potter and the Hall of the Elders' Crossing

mismatched buttons for eyes.

        Zane peered at it, his face serious. 'It's… it's you, James.'

        Sure enough, the figure did bear a striking resemblance. Black yarn on the head formed a good representation of James' unruly hair. Even the shape of the head, the line of the stitched mouth, and the placement of the button eyes made an eerie portrait.

        James shuddered. 'It's a voodoo doll,' he said. He remembered the note inside the box. All three boys leaned in to read it as he unfolded it.

Mr. Potter,

        You will surely recognize what this object is. There was no time in this year's Technomancy curriculum to discuss the ancient art of Representational Harmonics, but I suspect you grasp the implications. This was found inside Madame Delacroix's quarters. After some discussion with the Headmistress and the portraits of your Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore--whom you should know have taken rather an interest in you--it was determined that you might benefit from knowing how Madame Delacroix used this object against you. The elegance of her manipulation was quite impressive, really. This figure was placed next to a much larger figure of your father, Harry Potter. On the other side of that was a candle. It seems apparent that she kept that candle lit at all times. The result, of course, Mr. Potter, was that your figure was always in the shadow of the representation of your father.

There is always a grain of truth in the manipulations of the voodoo art.

Delacroix knew that you would legitimately struggle with the expectations of your

legendary father. The lesson you must learn from this, Mr. Potter, is that emotions are not bad, but they must be examined. Know yourself. Feelings always seem valid, but they can confuse. And they can, as you have seen, be used against you. I repeat, as your teacher and as your elder, know your feelings. Master them or they will master you.

Theodore Hirshall Jackson

        'Wow!' Ralph breathed. 'We didn't call her 'the voodoo queen' for nothing!'

Zane asked, 'What are you going to do with it, James? I mean, if you destroy it, will you be destroyed, somehow?'

        James stared at the small, unattractive caricature of himself. 'I don't think so,' he replied thoughtfully. 'I don't think Jackson would've given it to me in that case. I think he just means for me to remember what happened. And to try to make sure it never happens again.'

        'So?' Zane repeated. 'What are you going to do with it?'

        James stood, stuffing the doll into the pocket of his jeans. 'I don't know. I think I'll keep it. For a while, at least.'

        With that, the three boys meandered into the school, intent on doing as little as possible with their last day of the school year.

        Late that night, unable to sleep from the excitement of the next day's departure, James got out of bed. He crept down the stairs into the common room, hoping someone else might still be up for a game of wizard chess or even Winkles and Augers. By the glow of the banked fire, the room appeared to be empty. As he was turning away, something caught James' eye and he looked again. The ghost of Cedric Diggory sat near the fire. His silvery form was still transparent, but was noticeably more solid than the last time James had seen him.

        'I was trying to think of a name for myself,' Cedric said, smiling as James threw himself onto the couch nearby.

        'You've got a name already, haven't you?' James answered.

        'Well, not a proper ghostly name. Not like 'Nearly Headless Nick' or 'the Bloody Baron'. I need something with some panache.'

James considered it. 'How about 'the Chaser of Annoying Muggles'?'

        'It's a little long.'

        'Well, can you do any better?'

        'I was thinking--you'd better not laugh,' the ghost said, giving James a stern look. 'I was thinking of something like 'the Specter of Silence'.'

        'Hmm,' James replied carefully. 'But you aren't silent. In fact, you sound a lot better now. Your voice doesn't sound like its being blown in from the Great Beyond anymore.'

        'Yeah,' Cedric agreed, 'I've become quite a bit more… here, sort of. I'm as ghostly as the rest of the school ghosts, now. I was silent for a long time, though, wasn't I?'

'I guess so. But still, with a name like 'the Specter of Silence',' James said doubtfully, 'it's going to be hard to make that stick if you go around chatting people up all the time.'

        'Maybe I could be all broody and quiet a lot of the time,' Cedric mused. 'Just do a lot of floating around and looking dour and everything. And then, when I pass by, people would whisper to each other, 'Hey, there he goes! The Specter of Silence!''

        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.'