"Is that his ghost?"
Harry looked at the hazy figure, his voice tight with anger. "He killed my mum and dad... Tell me what I need to do."
He took an involuntary step forward, only to be stopped by the barrier's thin, translucent veil of light.
"Strictly speaking, that's only one fragment of Voldemort's soul... Until magic is used to stabilize it, I'd say it's still just a cluster of memories."
Zheng Qing put a hand on the young wizard's shoulder to stop him from rushing forward. "As for you, don't do anything. Just remember who you are... Keep remembering who you are. That matters. And you two, don't wander off. You'll be safe inside my barrier."
He looked at Hermione and Ron.
"But—"
A spark burst from the tip of Harry's wand. His voice held urgency and a barely perceptible trace of impatience.
"No buts. Every fighter has a place in a battle. The one fighting at close quarters isn't the only true hero."
Zheng Qing's expression grew a little stern, then his tone softened. "Sometimes the person carrying the banner or beating the drum faces even greater danger."
He wasn't sure how much of that comparison Harry understood.
And he doubted the little Gryffindor lions had truly taken his words to heart.
So, after a brief pause, he added:
"Besides, you have a battle of your own ahead of you."
"What?"
Harry perked up. The other two young wizards also drew their eyes away from Voldemort's hazy figure and looked back at Zheng Qing.
"Us?"
Hermione sounded doubtful and uncertain.
"Yes, you."
With a hand on Harry's shoulder, Zheng Qing looked down into eyes almost the same color as his robes. "You're the Boy Who Lived. You're his ultimate enemy... Never doubt that. So at the very end,