From Russia, With Sarcasm

From Russia, With Sarcasm
Chapter One: The Sorting (and embarrassment for Draco)

Coral stretched out her left arm, then her right, and then crossed them together in front of her, bowing to the morning sun. She raised her right arm slowly above her head, cupped her hand, and in it appeared a small flaming red ball.

She peered into it, and frowned. "That British Voldemort's been getting far too big for his boots lately... a few Death Eaters divulge information to the light side and voila!" She closed her hand around the ball, and flung it to the ceiling. Just before it hit the wall, it disappeared.

An owl flew into her room. She rolled her eyes. "Owls... primitive way to trade information, honestly..." she muttered. The owl was currently going crazy around the room, bouncing off the walls with excitement (literally). Coral lazily waved at it with her hand and it became docile, bringing her the letter. She opened it and scanned the contents. She began muttering. "Five, four, three, two..."

"Coral, I have a favour to ask you," came a voice from behind.

"There we go." She rolled her eyes again, and threw the letter into the fireplace. "Dumbledore, you couldn't have come after breakfast?" She turned to face the silver-haired man standing behind her.

Dumbledore smiled at her. It was hard to face a cynical, beautiful teenage girl and ask for a huge favour. Even harder when she was the most powerful being on the planet, and could wipe out the human race if you said or did anything that offended her.

"Coral, I want you to come to Hogwarts," he stated simply.

She scoffed. "Me? Come and learn levitation charms? Come and learn how to make a truth potion? Yeah, right Albus. Good one."

Dumbledore sighed inwardly. This was not going to be easy. "No, Coral," he said patiently. "I want you to come to Hogwarts as yourself. You do not have to masquerade as a student; you can use your powers. I want you to come and help us fight Voldemort."

"Albus, Albus, Albus. Are you forgetting in your old age? I am not on either side. I am no more light than I am dark. I cannot help you. Besides, I don't want to be with a bunch of messy teenagers, too dim to realise even what's in front of them," she sneered.

"You are a teenager yourself, you know," he said mildly.

"No, hadn't realised," she answered sarcastically.

"Perhaps you would gain some perspective by being in the middle of the conflict. You might make some friends," he offered.

She considered this. "Very well," she said finally. "I shall come for a while and see what happens. But first, there's a dragon in Romania that's about to demolish the High Commission." She waved her hand, and disappeared.

* * *

Harry grinned at his two best friends, swelling with happiness. He had just left the Dursleys for another year, Dudley was looking fatter than ever (Harry suspected that it had something to do with the empty crisp and sweet packets he had found under a rock in the garden while working), and they were about to board the Hogwarts Express.

"Hey, Harry," said Ron, rubbing his freckled nose. "Have a good holiday?"

Harry grimaced. "Is any holiday with the Dursleys a good one?" he asked.

"Well, I had a fantastic holiday," Hermione butted in, her now-not-as-bushy brown hair glinting in the sun, a knowing expression on her face, which greatly annoyed Harry and Ron. "We went to the Greek Isles and visited some of the most wonderfully historic sites, there was one that was the graveyard of Yuroke the Yellow-Bellied, he was a goblin in the Repression wars of 1672, yet all the time he was fighting, he was..."

Harry tuned her out. Around them students were milling around, a young girl was hopping up and down with excitement of seeing her older brother board the train for the first time, the twins, entering their last year at Hogwarts, were laughing together quietly in a corner, which was never a good sign, and Neville was wandering about, looking down at the floor for his toad, Trevor.

"Harry?" Ron broke into his thoughts. Harry shook himself, mentally scolding himself for getting sidetracked. "Yessem?" he said, blinking. Ron gave him a strange look. "Uh, the train is here."

And so it was. Shining in its scarlet beauty, the great steam engine was just about ready to go. They boarded the train, and found a compartment to themselves. Although they were all prefects, they preferred to travel to Hogwarts the traditional way, not up front with the other prefects.

As they boarded the train, Hermione turned to Ron. "You think Harry's ok?" she whispered to him. Ron frowned. "Of course he's not OK!" he told her sharply. "Can you imagine the rumours that are going to be flying around this place once word gets out about You-Know-Who and Harry? And Cedric? He's going to have a nightmare of a time!"

Harry shot them a quick puzzled look, and almost immediately they shut their mouths, giving him each a weak smile. Harry returned the smile, feebly, before stepping into their compartment.

After a while, Harry forgot about all that, he was simply content to stare out the window. Ron was snoring, Hermione was reading, and chocolate frog wrappers adorned the floor. He watched trees and mountains rush past, until his concentration was broken by a noise outside.

Ron jerked awake. "Wha-?" he mumbled.

A girl, no older than fifteen, strode into their compartment. "Do you mind if I sit here for a while?" she asked, her piercing gaze settling on them. "I think the two boys in the compartment next to me were planning on putting something called Canary Creams or Dragon Dreams in my lunch."

Ron traded a look with Harry, and they both burst out laughing. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Here, sit down," she said exasperated, moving her things over. The girl sat down, and surveyed the room. A look of disgust marred her face upon seeing the mess on the floor.

"What year are you going to be in? And why haven't we seen you before?" Hermione asked hurriedly, her eyes gleaming.

The girl looked at her if she was a large bug waiting to be stepped on. "I shall be in fifth year," she said very slowly. "And I have been transferred."

"From where?" Ron asked. Harry remained quiet, not sure what to think. The girl was stunningly beautiful, with black hair as deep as night, shining almost blue. Her eyes were large, and some sort of shade of...purple? Her ivory skin was pale, which made for a striking contrast. She was of average weight. She wasn't a fragile skinny beauty, but more a real, powerful type.

"Russia," she said, staring at Ron. "And if you make one joke about Cossack dancing..." She cupped a palm, and a blue flaming ball appeared in it. She tossed it towards the wall and it exploded, causing many shouts of, "Hey, what happened?" and "Help! You-know-who! You-know-who!" Among the shouts and screams, she leant back, smiling serenely.

Ron stared at her, trembling. "Okay," he squeaked.

"Where did you learn to do that?" Hermione asked, impressed (and a little jealous that she couldn't do it herself).

She stood up. "You will find, Hermione, that that is the very least of my powers." She left the compartment, her black robes swishing around her ankles.

They traded looks with each other.

"She can do wandless magic!" Ron exclaimed in awe.

"How did she know my name?" Hermione wondered.

Harry said nothing. He wasn't sure if the arrival of this girl was a good thing or a bad one. All he knew is that he didn't want to be on her bad side.

* * *

Coral looked left and right, searching for another compartment. "One, hopefully with more sophisticated people than that...urgh," she suppressed a shudder. "Little know-it-all Hermione and that brave little orphan Harry Potter."

A door slid open. Out stepped a boy with silver blond hair, and with a sneer on his face. "Did I hear someone insulting Potter? In that case, let me join in."

Coral looked at him skeptically. "I'm Draco Malfoy," he said. Her expression changed to calmness. "I know," she told him. "Son of Lucius and Narcissa. Going to become one of Voldemort's minions next year. Father already is one."

His expression turned pink. "I am not! My fa- he's- I'm-" he stuttered.

"Oh, shut up."

His expression hardened. "No one talks to me like that," he seethed. Coral looked at him with raised eyebrows. "You don't know who I am, do you?" she asked.

"Should I?"

"Oh, yes."

* * *

"But, Albus-"

"No buts. Coral, you are going to be Sorted."

Dumbledore and Coral were sitting in his office, arguing.

"But I don't want to be Sorted! I'm not any of the houses! I'm not a Hufflepuff, I'm not a Ravenclaw, I'm not a Gryffindor and I'm definitely not a Slytherin!" Coral protested vehemently.

"Coral, you have to go somewhere."

"Fine! But I am soooo going to bewitch the hat!"

"You can't, Coral. The hat was made by Godric Gryffindor himself."

"Oh, so I'm less powerful than Godric. You of all people should know that I am more powerful than the Founders, Voldemort and you put together!"

"Coral, you will be Sorted."

"Arrrrgh!!!" Coral stomped out of Dumbledore's office, then stomped back in. She threw her hand towards the ceiling, and a small explosion sounded. Dumbledore rose from his desk in alarm. "What was that?" he asked carefully.

Coral blew her hair out of her eyes. "Just a small massacre. Voldemort's Death Eaters got a little... excited, shall we say?" She allowed herself a small grin.

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You are still being Sorted, Coral."

She flopped down in a chair, the air of a small child around her. "Nooo-oooo," she whined.

* * *

"Young, Joseph!"

Harry watched Professor McGonagall read aloud from her parchment, his stomach growling continuously. He leant over to Hermione. "I wonder if that girl is going to be Sorted?" he asked her, brushing his hair out of his eyes. Hermione nodded absently, her eyes on the line of first-years.

"...and joining us all the way from Russia, our fifth year transfer, er... Carol," she pronounced.

Coral turned to her. "It's Coral," she said slowly, as if she were speaking to a young child. She stood from her chair, and stood in full view of the school. Many gasps came from the boys, and even some of the girls were looking in awe. She glided over to the chair, but stopped a few steps before it. She turned, till she was facing Draco Malfoy. Her eyes burned with anger, and she stretched out a hand. A small light appeared, and he began to float towards the ceiling. All around the hall there were gasps and whispers. Who was this new girl who dared to do this to Draco Malfoy?, they asked each other.

Her hand and eyes followed his scared expression as he floated in the air, a few metres away from her. "Now, Draco," she said clearly. "Perhaps you would like to repeat what you just said to the entire hall?"

"I sa- I said- I- I-"

She viewed him critically. "You are quite a bore when you stutter, do you know that?" she told him. She rolled her eyes. "Oh, forget it." She flicked her hand again, and Draco was in his seat. She surveyed the hall, looking at all the open mouths. "You'll catch flies if you don't shut your mouths soon, you know," she told the hall, smiling.

The mouths shut, and smiles appeared, and a lot of laughter was heard at the Gryffindor table in particular. Coral smiled to herself. People were so easy to please.

She walked over to the stool, and tried on the hat.

"How can I Sort you?" a small voice appeared in her ear. "You are none of the Houses. You are not--"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," she thought impatiently. "Just put me somewhere already, will you?"

The hat hemmed and hawed for ages. It constantly kept changing its mind, annoying Coral greatly. The decision making was going on sixteen minutes when the hat opened its mouth.

"I don't know..." it said sheepishly. "I don't know where to put her."