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.'
As James climbed quietly back into his bed, his mind raced. He had never even considered that Tabitha Corsica might believe the things she said. He had assumed that she was supporting the Progressive Element propaganda because she fully accepted and endorsed their ultimate, dark goals. For a moment, he felt vaguely sorry for her. It was awful to think that someone like her might believe she was morally in the right, and that he, James Potter, and his father, were the evil ones. It was almost unthinkable, but not entirely. Outside, the moon was full and bright. James fell asleep with its beams on his face, pale and cool, his brow still slightly furrowed.
The next day, James, Zane, and Ralph rode the Hogwarts Express back to Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Zane's parents were there, along with his younger sister, Greer, who watched the gigantic crimson engine with naked awe. Standing near them, James spied his mum and dad, herding Albus and Lily along with them. He grinned and waved. It felt like hardly a week ago that he'd watched them from the train as it had pulled out of the station, carrying him to the uncertainty of his first year at Hogwarts. Now he was home again. Hogwarts was wonderful, he thought to himself, but he was glad to be back, after all. Next year, he'd be accompanying Albus on the train, taking him to his first year. He'd tease Albus endlessly about what house he'd end up in. It was going to be his summer's project, in fact. But he wasn't worried about it. Even if Albus wasn't a Gryffindor, he'd be okay. James knew that if Albus was indeed sent to another house, part of him, James, would even be a little jealous of him. But only just a little.
As he joined the throng exiting the train, James fell in behind Ted. Ted, James noticed, was holding Victoire's hand.
'You're going to cause a load of trouble, you know,' James said, grinning.
'It's a tough job, being this controversial,' Ted said humbly, 'but we all have our burdens to bear.'
'My parents must not see us together,' Victoire commanded. 'Ted Lupin, don't you ruin everything. You know they won't approve. You will keep your mouth shut, too, James.'
'Her accent is much more prominent when she's harping, isn't it?' Ted asked James.
James grinned. It was true.
James stopped inside the open door of the train, looking about the platform. Through the crowd of returning students, bustling porters and yelling family members, he saw Zane engulfed in the mutual hug of his pretty blonde mother and his tall, proud father. His sister was sucked into the embrace, as if against her will, happy to see her brother again but still enthralled by the crimson train. Ralph met his dad on the platform with a more restrained hug, both grinning a bit sheepishly. Ralph glanced back up at James and waved.
'Dad says we'll be spending the summer in London! I'll be able to come and visit!'
'Excellent!' James yelled back happily.
And then, as he climbed down, James saw his own family watching for him. In the moment before they caught sight of him, James savored his own happiness. This was indeed home. He ran toward them, patting his jeans pocket to make sure the little doll Madame Delacroix had made of him was still there. It probably wouldn't mean anything, but there was no harm in it. No harm at all.
'James!' Albus cried, seeing him first. 'Did you bring us anything? You promised!'
'What am I? Father Christmas?' James answered, laughing as Albus and Lily nearly bowled him over.
'You promised! You promised us Licorice Wands from the cart lady!'
'And Cauldron Cakes for Rose and Hugo,' Harry added, grinning.
'Wow, word sure travels fast. All right, all right, I've got stuff for everybody!' James admitted. He emptied his pockets, filling Albus' and Lily's hands with sweets. He pulled the voodoo doll out last and looked at it a bit uncertainly.
'What in the world is that, James?' Ginny said, embracing him and then looking at the object in her son's
