Sees Ghost Harry

Mort pointed a finger at me. I took a few steps until I stood in the mouth of the hallway that led down to Murphy’s bedrooms. I gestured to Sir Stuart to stay back.
“Why?” he asked.
“She’s going to use her Sight. The less she has to look at, the better.”
Sir Stuart shrugged and stayed near Mort. He watched Molly through narrowed eyes, his fingertips on the handle of that monster pistol.
Molly grabbed her cane and rose to her feet, leaning on it, taking the weight off the leg that had been shot at Chichén Itzá. She straightened her back and shoulders, turned toward me, took a deep breath, and opened her Sight.
I’d never seen such a thing from this angle before. It was as if a sudden light, burning steady and unwavering, kindled just between and above her eyebrows. As it flooded out of her, I felt it as a tangible sensation on my immaterial flesh. It was blinding. I lifted a hand for a moment to shield my eyes against it before I looked up to meet Molly’s gaze.
Her lips parted. She stared at me and tears blurred her vision. She tried twice to speak before she said, “How do I know it’s you?”
I could answer her. It’s called the Sight, but it embraces the entire spectrum of human perception, and then some. I met her gaze and composed my face. Then I said, in my very best Alec Guinness impersonation, “You will go to the Dagobah system. There you will learn from Yoda, the Jedi Master who instructed me.”
Molly sat down abruptly, missed the couch, and hit the floor instead. “Ohmygod,” she breathed. “Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod. Harry.”
I knelt to be on eye level with her. “Yeah, kid. It’s me.”


Ghost Story Chapter 11, Page 121-122