Flame of the Dead, Black Magic

"You understand, of course," said Dumbledore, "that you will need to be sorted into a house. We have four houses - Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw."

The girl glared at Dumbledore. She crossed her arms but didn't say anything.

"Now, normally, at the beginning of each year, we hold a sorting ceremony for our first-years. Now, of course you are not a first-year, but a sixth, so, er, is something wrong, Miss Santavaj?"

"No." If looks could kill, Dumbledore would be far past dead now.

"Very well. As I was saying, I figured that we could sort you here, now, if you'd like." Once more the girl just gave Dumbledore a menacing look, so he cheerfully pulled the sorting hat off one of his dusty shelves and blew some dust off it, then handed it to the girl. "Put it on your head," he told her.

The girl, still glaring daggers at Dumbledore, cautiously put the hat on her head. It would have fallen quite far down, but she held it with her hands so that she could keep an eye on Dumbledore, it seemed. The hat stayed there for what seemed to be a full minute before speaking.

"Professor Dumbledore?" the hat said.

"Yes?" Dumbledore said brightly, as if the hat asked his opinion often.

"Sir, she doesn't want to be in any of the houses," the hat said, apparently dumbfounded.

"Find one that will suit her," Dumbledore said, bouncing on the balls of his feet in a very carefree fashion and nodding politely for the hat to continue. He heard a faint whisper that sounded remarkably like "eenie, meenie, minie, mo," but said nothing.

Finally the hat shrugged (if that is possible), and said, "Ravenclaw?" as if it was guessing the answer to a question. Dumbledore looked genuinely surprised.

"So it is," he said, and replaced the sorting hat to its shelf, then turned to the girl, "Miss Santavaj?"

"What?" the girl asked sharply.

"I will contact Professor McGonagall to help you move into your new room."

The girl narrowed her eyes at the mention of this name, but her mouth remained shut. Soon Professor McGonagall, looking slightly nervous, entered Dumbledore's office.

"If you'll follow me," she said sternly, turning and leading the girl out of the room almost as quickly as she had entered it. They walked through the hallway solemnly, but with no outbursts like the one earlier that day. Once again heads and whispers came from inside the classrooms, but at long last they reached a bookshelf against the wall. "The password is *Toped Eciffo*," McGonagall said, and the bookshelf slid open.

No one was in the common room, since classes were going on, so McGonagall led the girl up the spiral staircase to the girl's dormitories and left her there to unpack, telling her that her classes wouldn't start until the next day, but dinner was every night at seven.

News of the new girl spread through the school (as it seems to do) like wildfire. In Potions, the Gryffindors and Slytherin were gossiping about her.

"Her name is Ellie . . . Ellie Santavaj . . ."

"Did she really hit Snape?"

"Ravenclaw has no chance at the House Championship now . . ."

"Be quiet!" Snape yelled from the front of the class. Harry noticed that his jaw was slightly puffy, but Harry couldn't decide whether this worried him or gave him satisfaction.

Potions class continued as usual, they were learning how to make first aid potions this term, and today's was a very complicated one; it stopped internal bleeding or something of the sort. Harry wasn't listening. He was concentrating on Malfoy to make sure that he didn't get wrong-footed.

"Hey Potter," Malfoy hissed from two tables away, "thinking of adopting the new girl into your little clique? I heard she's a Mudblood . . ."

Harry tried to ignore him, but he saw Ron wave his wand beneath his robes and watched as Malfoy's cauldron developed a small hole in the side of it. Thankfully, Malfoy was too busy laughing at Harry to see Ron do this, and before long Malfoy's anti-internal bleeding potion was all over the floor, creating clots on everything it touched.

Harry and Ron laughed at this; even Hermione joined in once she had finished rescuing her own cauldron to the top of her desk. Snape growled, trying to figure out who had made the hole. Then the bell rang and he had no choice but to give up.

Harry, Ron and Hermione were a little slow getting their things together before they left Potions, but once they reached the entrance hall they stopped short. A small crowd was gathered and as they pushed their way to the front, they saw that Malfoy had cornered Ellie Santavaj and was leering at her from his safe position in between Crabbe and Goyle's broad shoulders.

"Come on," he laughed, "What's your problem? Is it true you're Muggle-born? Because if you are, I guess I can understand why you're such a freak!"

Ellie Santavaj was glaring at Malfoy with intense and immediate hatred. She raised her wand and screamed, "Avada Kedavra!" at the top of her lungs and pointed her wand at Malfoy's heart.

The hall stopped chattering. No one spoke. The spell had not worked, but Malfoy had turned so white that he looked like a ghost. Santavaj marched up to him until her face was inches from hers and snarled, "I'll have it perfect by the end of the year. Stay away from me."

And then she stormed out of the entrance hall and back to (everyone assumed) the Ravenclaw tower. A few third year girls started crying. Malfoy vomited onto the floor. Professor Snape pushed his way through the crowd to see what was going on.

"What happened?" he demanded to Goyle.

Goyle stupidly lifted his head. He, as well as everyone who had seen it, was in a state of shock and could not seem to speak. Finally Lavender Brown tried, "She tried to kill Malfoy, Professor!"

Snape did not need to ask who. "Take Mr. Malfoy up to the hospital wing," he barked to Lavender, seeing as she was functioning enough to speak. Lavender looked disgusted, but obliged. "Now where is she?" he demanded. A few shaky hands pointed in the direction of the Ravenclaw common room.

"Well," Ron said as the entrance hall cleared out into the Great Hall for dinner, "On the bright side, she won't be here much longer."

"Er, yeah," Harry said.

Hermione was in a rage, "That curse is way above any level we've ever studied before! If she tried it on Malfoy, it must have worked for her on something else, something smaller. It has to be one of the most difficult curses there is, if not *the* most difficult! How . . . how . . ." Hermione seemed left speechless at the prospect that someone could do a spell that she could not, especially since the competitor was her age.

"Can they even put underage wizards in Azkaban?" wondered Ron aloud.

"They might be forced to make an exception," Hermione whispered.

Just then the doors of the Great Hall burst open. Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up. Harry especially, because it was Cho Chang. She bolted over to the Ravenclaw table and raced out again, this time with her Quidditch team; she had been named captain when Rodger Davies left. Harry and Ron looked at each other, then got up and chased after them to see what was happening. They all followed Cho through the entrance hall and outside onto the Quidditch field.

It was her again, the Santavaj girl. She was flying all around the school in wide circles, small loops, lightning-fast turns. Cho pointed at the girl and looked at her team, then spoke to them as if they were very stupid. "I. Want. Her. On. The. Team."

The team looked dumbfounded, but Harry noticed something else. It was a group of teachers, down on the field and yelling for Santavaj to come down. One by one, they hopped on brooms themselves and shot into the air. Harry had never realized what good flyers some of his teachers were.

From a distance, it looked like Santavaj's chasers were Snape, McGonagall, Lupin (re-hired as the DADA teacher - don't ask), and Tonks (hired to co-teach with Lupin; DADA had a gigantic turnout and there are now two separate levels of it: student-level and level-for-people-who-actually-plan-on-using-what-they-learn, inspired by Dumbledore's Army. Tonks teaches the second one).

It looked as if they had Santavaj until there was a flash of light and Lupin fell off his broom. McGonagall zoomed down to the ground before him and muttered something; the rate at which Lupin was falling slowed, then his form finally stopped in midair. McGonagall conjured up a stretcher and sent the unconscious Lupin off in the direction of the hospital wing before rising up into the air again.

Tonks and Snape were trying to surround Santavaj, but she kept diving at the ground or at the castle and then pulling away, trying to get the others to crash. Harry looked at her face and was startled to see that Santavaj was laughing as if it was all a game.

"Forget what Dumbledore said about the wands," Snape growled, and all three of them produced their wands from inside their robes. It was Tonks who hit Santavaj first with the stunning spell, her face seemed so angry, as Harry had never seen it before; Tonks was normally laughing but now her eyebrows were furrowed and her mouth was in a tight frown.

Santavaj fell to the ground as Lupin had done; McGonagall also slowed down her fall and conjured up a stretcher, but instead of sending her up to the hospital, McGonagall, Tonks and Snape walked the unconscious Santavaj up to the castle.

Harry and Ron told Hermione, who agreed that they should go see how Lupin was in the hospital wing. Madam Pomfrey reluctantly let them in, saying that "You shouldn't try to wake him, mind you. He's been hit with a very strong stunning spell. He shouldn't be woken up for at least another few hours."

Lupin was a little cold, and Harry wondered if Santavaj had tried to kill him as she had Malfoy. Madam Pomfrey had said that it was only a stunning spell, but a strong one . . . once more Hermione looked defeated.

"Let's go," Ron suggested. Harry agreed; seeing Lupin so vulnerable was very unnerving.

As they left the hospital wing, Tonks gave a weak smile and wave as she walked into the room that Harry, Ron and Hermione had just come from.

"Do you suppose she's going to see Lupin, too?" Ron asked.

"Probably," Harry said, "I saw her face when Santavaj stunned him. She was really mad."

Hermione scoffed. "Don't you guys know?" she said superiorly.

Ron shook his head, "Apparently not. Why don't you tell us?"

"Tonks and Lupin are an item now," she said, as Harry's and Ron's jaws dropped, "They've already snuck off to Hogsmeade a few times late at night. Aren't they so cute together?"

No one said anything, until Ron started laughing. "Lupin and Tonks? That's a good one, Hermione!"

"I . . . I think she's serious, Ron." Harry said.

"Of course, I'm serious. Honestly, you two!" Hermione said.

And so it was that late that night when everyone else was asleep, inspired by Remus Lupin, Harry snuck into the common room on his own to write Cho Chang a letter of . . . he didn't know what of. Apology? Proposal? Love?

"Dear Cho," it started.

"I know that last year we had a few-" Harry searched for the word, "-disputes, but I want to apologize for them."

Harry stopped, reread the letter, then crumpled it up and threw it in the fire. Just then, as he was looking at it, the fire sputtered. It looked as if it was Sirius as a dog in the fire, holding a piece of rolled-up parchment. Harry quickly told himself that he was hallucinating, but when he looked back into the fire, the dog's head was still there. Slowly, cautiously, Harry took the parchment from Sirius' mouth. As soon as he did, Sirius' head disappeared, leaving Harry feeling as though someone had punched him in the stomach. He was daydreaming.

But, he couldn't have been. There was the rolled-up piece of parchment, in hands. Harry didn't understand; Sirius was dead. It didn't make any sense to him, but he was too eager to think about it.

Harry tore open the paper. Inside was a letter, addressed to him:

Harry -

I am glad to see that you are alive and well! I saw you part of the time when you were fighting the death eaters; it was fabulous, Harry. Your father would have been proud. You are probably wondering what I'm doing writing to you . . . didn't anyone ever tell you that all dogs go to heaven? I will keep checking up on you; I promised your parents that I would and a barrier as silly as death isn't going to stop me. I won't see you until I give you this letter, but I bet that you look as much like James as ever. Good luck on your new class, Wand-less Magic. I know the teacher; she was at Hogwarts with me and she's not as young as she looks. I'm sure she's a fine teacher, though. Keep your chin up and don't let minute things like death stop you.

Sirius

Harry was dumbfounded; how could Sirius have written to him? He'd have thought that it was a joke, but it'd seemed so *real.* It was even in Sirius' handwriting.

Harry showed Ron and Hermione the letter the next morning, and told them about the fire. Ron told him that he should write back; Hermione suggested that he talk to Lupin. Harry chose to do both, since their first class that morning was Defense Against the Dark Arts -Students.

"I'm gonna skip breakfast to go talk to Lupin," Harry said, waving good-bye to Ron and Hermione. He ran up to Lupin's office and arrived out of breath. Thankfully, Lupin had made a full recovery and when Harry came in, he was busy sealing up the fireplace in his office with planks of wood and magical glue.

"Professor Lupin?" Harry asked, a little bewildered.

"Hello, Harry," said Professor Lupin.

"Er . . . why are you sealing up your fireplace?"

"It hasn't been working lately," Lupin said cheerfully.

"Right," said Harry, not sure if he believed this, "Er . . . Professor Lupin?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Sirius wrote to me," Harry said, figuring it better to get it all over with at once.

Lupin raised his eyebrows. "Funny," he said, "I had the same experience."

"So I'm not hallucinating?" Harry said, much happier than when he came in.

Lupin didn't say anything for a moment. When he spoke, it was matter-of-factly, as if he was teaching a class, "Harry," he said, "try to avoid getting another letter."

"What?" Harry didn't understand. Sirius giving him that letter was the best thing that had happened to Harry in the past six months. Why couldn't he be happy?

"Harry," Lupin said, carefully, "Sirius is procrastinating. If you encourage him to do it, you're going to hurt yourself and him. For Sirius' sake, you can't take the next letter. You *can't,* Harry."

"I don't get it," Harry said, "What do you mean, he's procrastinating?"

"I'm afraid I can't tell you at this point," Lupin said, "I'm not sure myself."

Harry was disappointed, but knew not to press Lupin. He was about to leave when a thought entered his mind. "Er . . . Professor Lupin?" he asked nervously.

"Yes?"

"Can I . . . can I have your letter from Sirius?"

A funny expression came over Lupin's face, but he quickly regained his composure and said in almost a monotone, "Would you give me your letter?"

Harry shook his head, knowing that it had been a silly question.

"Wait, Harry!" Lupin called as Harry entered the corridor, "I'll make you a deal. If you can refuse Sirius' letters until Christmas break, then I'll give you the one he sent me." He smiled.

Harry nodded and smiled back, realizing that Lupin wouldn't have made him that offer if he hadn't thought that Harry would take another letter. As Harry walked away, something dawned on him: he and Lupin couldn't have been the only people to get letters from Sirius. Not knowing exactly what had come over him, Harry anxiously sat through DADA - Student and when the bell rang, he ran to the Gargoyle guarding the entrance to Dumbledore's office.

He guessed at various sweets until the gargoyle let him in on "Multiplying Gummy Rabbits" and then he took the staircase upwards and was about to bang on the door when he heard voices.

"It is considered impolite to harass both other students and the teachers here," Dumbledore was saying. "This includes attacking them, physically or magically, verbally insulting them, and choosing actions that would provoke others to retaliate."

"He provoked me," a new voice said - Harry recognized it as the voice from yesterday afternoon, it was Ellie Santavaj's voice, "He called me a Mudblood."

"That gives you no excuse to attempt murder!" a third, slimier voice said - Snape.

"Severus, please. Miss Santavaj, if you get angry, come talk to one of the professors. That's what we're here for. In no situation, unless it is life-threatening, may you attack someone. Are we clear?"

"If I had killed him, would I get expelled?" this time Santavaj's voice sounded amused, possibly interested.

"No," said Dumbledore. Harry, outside the door, couldn't believe his ears. "You need to stay here until the time comes."

The argument went on in this fashion until Santavaj was escorted out of the office and Harry was invited in.

"Professor," Harry said quickly, assuming that he was late already for Wand-less Magic, "Did Sirius -"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, "And I'm guessing that you would like a look at it?"

Harry nodded.

"Lupin had a word with me earlier," Dumbledore continued to Harry's dismay, "and he seems to have thought up a quite brilliant idea. I will sponsor it; you may have my letter if you do not receive any of Sirius' until, say, Valentine's day."

"But -" Harry said.

"Harry, this is a very serious matter. I think you will find, once you have collected what is important, that it is much more complicated than you can imagine. I implore you not to take any of Sirius' letters from him, although it may seem hard."

Sarah,

I know you'll take this letter. I saw it in your eyes when I gave you the first one. You looked scared, but I could tell that you of all people trusted me, and I will never leave you for that. Even when it was you left me. Remember when you screamed, Sarah? That night, the one where I had escaped from Azkaban and snuck into your house to silently say good-bye to you, forever. I hadn't known that you'd already said good-bye to me. I watched you sleep for so long, your hair just as silky as always and your entire body limp with exhaustion. You were breathing so slightly, I thought that you could have been dead, but you were more alive than I ever was. And then you woke up. You took one look at me and screamed - the wind was knocked out of me. It was hearing your voice, so broken, and it was seeing your fear towards me, when I used to be all you had. I didn't notice until you screamed and woke him up, that a man was sleeping next to you; a man who was not me. His face was angry, and confused, and, well, you know what happened next - I ran. Why did you do that to me, Sarah? I, who always was and who will always be, devoted only to you? You feared me, and it broke my heart. I'll write again, and I know that you'll take it. You will always take them, wont' you.

Sirius