Bravery is the overcoming of fear

'I was afraid of death,' said Nick softly. 'I chose to remain behind. I sometimes wonder whether I oughtn't to have. . . well, that is neither here nor there. . . in fact I am neither here nor there. . .' He gave a small sad chuckle. 'I know nothing of the secrets of death, Harry, for I chose my feeble imitation of life instead. I believe learned wizards study the matter in the Department of Mysteries-'

'I am sorry not to have been more help,' said Nick gently. 'Well. . . do excuse me. . . the feast, you know. . .'

(-Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix)

* * *

As he left the room, he dwelt briefly on the irony that periodically haunted him-that he had been chosen as Gryffindor house ghost-that *any* ghost could be chosen to represent Gryffindor, the house of the brave-when it was his fear that made him a ghost in the first place. After so many years of practise, however, he was able to temporarily banish this sceptre of thought, and glided into the feast of the living, though he could only watch them eat. Later, as he watched them sleep, he would have plenty of time to reflect.

He was not the only ghost to reflect on death. It was in the main a natural course for a ghost to take. The White Lady, in life admired for her intelligent contemplation, found much to muse upon. Two things were unattainable for a ghost-life and death-and sometimes it was difficult to tell which was the most desirable. Life was so full of potential, and it changed, was always in motion. When living, change can seem unbearable- childhood must end, good moods are followed by bad, friendships warp beyond recognition, loved ones die, not a moment of joy exists that is not overshadowed by the ominous law that this fleeting happiness cannot last. Ghosts are stuck in a strange time machine, seemingly changeless themselves, but compelled still to feel the loss of others as generation after generation of friends passed beyond life. The White Lady envied the living, for they could experience and change as ghosts could not, but she envied the dead, for they had had the strength of character to go on into the unknown. She would sacrifice anything for that strength. Except perhaps her life-and certainty.

The Fat Friar had a particular problem with his cowardice. He had tried to tell himself that he had stayed behind to help the living, his loyalty to his fellow beings had prevailed over his curiosity and his own personal gain. Had Jesus himself not returned from death to bring hope to mankind? But Hufflepuffs are not so stupid as they are sometimes portrayed. He knew that it was precisely in this comparison that his own inadequacy showed. Jesus had accepted death as he had accepted life - painful but necessary for the greater good. When it came down to it, the Fat Friar had not the faith that he had prided himself upon. The bible says that he who wished to save his life would lose it, but he who loses it for God's sake, and the sake of the Good News would inherit Eternal Life. Eternal Life lay just a leap of faith away-but what if it weren't true? Which possibility was worse? Extinction of existence? Unpleasant afterlife? Or just the bare idea that the religion he had dedicated his life to was not true.

The Bloody Baron was less contemplative than his fellow house-ghosts. As far as he was concerned, he had acted shrewdly in staying with what was known. Only fools, blinded by ideals, would willingly step into unknown, uncontrollable territory. In truth, there were more Slytherin ghosts than any of the other houses. Presumably this was why Muggles so often reported being terrorised by malevolent ghosts as well as being left mostly alone by reflective ones. The only confusion for the Bloody Baron was why so many Slytherins did *not* become ghosts, but went on into the unknown. He could only suppose that they had been soft at heart.

Peeves likewise was not famous for his brooding rumination. He could imagine no existence more fun than terrorising the living when-ha!-they couldn't punish you. He was in awe of the Bloody Baron for his obvious cunning and apparent love of being a ghost. He had seen many students pass through Hogwarts, some of them that had seemed as cunning as the Bloody Baron, and some whose love of mischief seemed comparable to his own. He had been disappointed when his two old favourites (though he usually interfered with their plans, of course), Padfoot and Prongs, had stopped trying to cause trouble, and when they had died without seeming to want to join him in his pranks, he had turned his hope to the Weasley twins. Surely they would want to make mischief with him when they died? It was sometimes quite lonely, as a ghost.

Moaning Myrtle, in total contrast, thought about death all of the time. Like Peeves, though, she had not been invited to reside at Hogwarts, but had stayed there of her own accord, defiantly waiting for someone to tell her to leave. It was Hogwarts' fault she had died so early, after all. It had always been a sore point with her that no-one ever had bothered to order her away. One might expect that somebody so unabashedly obsessed with death, so miserable and obviously sick of life would have embraced death with open arms rather than choosing this half-life. It was not a thought that had occurred to Myrtle herself, so I cannot tell you what she thought about it. She had always assumed that she became a ghost so she could haunt the people that had teased her, but I am not convinced that her drive for revenge was strong enough in itself. I can only suggest a possibility - that she had become so involved in the idea of death that she could not accept the experience of it. Part of her wanted to relish being dead for all eternity.