Justin had been mid-smirk, mid-laugh, but that name was like a blow to the stomach. In his own stupid, childish way, he thought he'd been in love with Cedric Diggory. As much as a fourteen-year-old boy could be in love. Maybe it had been hero-worship, or friendship, or some form of idolatry. He had mourned Cedric like everyone had, though maybe more. He realized his hands were shaking, and pressed them against the table to stop them, as much as to lever himself up from his chair and lean across the table. "Cedric," he whispered. "As...as a ghost? I--" He shook his head. "I did not think that he...I've never seen him."