From Russia, With Sarcasm

From Russia, With Sarcasm
Chapter Two

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

There was a great uproar in the hall. Everywhere, people were clamouring onto their seats and House tables, trying to get a look at this strange girl that had befuddled the Sorting Hat. Coral viewed them all with a critical eye.

Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the high table. "Ah-hem," he cleared his throat, to no success. The noise in the hall was growing (if that's possible) louder. He cleared his throat once more, gave up and turned to Coral. She gave him a wicked grin, and threw a blue flaming ball up towards the ceiling with gusto.

The explosion provoked a few more screams, but then faced with the angry looks on all their teacher's faces, they climbed meekly back into their chairs.

"Thank you," Dumbledore said finally. He turned to Coral and walked over to her. "Coral, stop bewitching the hat," he told her firmly.

She shot him a death glare. "Fine!" she burst out. She waved her hand over the hat and a very thin, almost invisible gold veil lifted off it. Coral clenched her fist and it disappeared. She sat down on the chair, grumbling all the while. Dumbledore thought he heard a distinct, "I hate you, Albus," but he wasn't sure.

"Ah, back again, are we?" it hummed in her ear. 'Yeah, sorry about that spell and all,' Coral thought. "No problem, no problem," it mused. "Well, you'd make a good Slytherin, you know. It could help you on your way to greatness..." The hat opened its mouth, preparing to shout "SLYTHERIN!!" to the hall.

'Wait!' Coral thought frantically. 'First, I already am great, (a/n and modest too, isn't she folks? - FQ) and Dumbledore took me here to see the chaos that Voldemort is creating, so,' she paused, regretting what she was about to do. 'I'd better stick close to that little perfect brave Harry Potter. Just put me in Gryffindor.'

"Are you sure?" the hat asked doubtfully. "You have Gryffindor qualities, all right, but I can't help think that Slytherin is a better choice..."

'Gryffindor,' she told it firmly.

"Fine, fine... GRYFFINDOR!!"

The hall cheered, not for Coral, but because food had finally appeared on the plates. She made her way down to the Gryffindor table, and suppressed a shudder as she realised that the only spare seat was next to... Harry Potter.

* * *

Harry, Ron and Hermione watched the girl make her way towards the table.

"I can't believe she's been sorted here," Hermione fumed. "She's a spoiled selfish brat! How on earth she got into Gryffindor, I'll never know."

Ron blinked. "Hermione, calm down. She can't be that bad, if she was Sorted into Gryffindor. Usually, you're the one all for greeting new people and showing them the fastest route to the library... are you sure you're not just jealous?" He swapped a look with Harry, and they both stuffed bread rolls into their mouths to keep from laughing.

"I am not jealous," she hissed to them. "I just think there's something fishy about her. I don't think I've ever read anything about her in any of my books... if she's from Russia then -- oh, hi Coral." Hermione shut up fast as she realised that Coral was sitting down in the chair next to Harry.

"Continue your conversation, don't stop on account of me," Coral said, with a smile that didn't quite meet her eyes.

Harry paused. "So, Coral, where are you from?"

"I told you on the train, Russia."

Harry mentally hit himself in the head. 'Well, duh,' he thought to himself.

"Where in Russia?" Hermione butted in.

Coral sighed. This was going to be a long night.

* * *

The woods were dark, very dark. The trees were no longer green, but black as night. Shadows cast upon the ground moved treacherously, and voices sounded from behind the trees.

A man, robed in black, stood, and the people surrounding him kneeled to the ground, then stood to face him.

"What have you brought me?" A voice sounded. It was a high, cold voice, filled with cruelty and contempt.

A man, flanked by two others, was pushed roughly into the circle. His nebulous eyes swept the men surrounding him, and he stumbled to the ground. This was met by a cold wave of appreciative laughter from the men surrounding him.

"Ah, Herren," the voice said, sounding fake sympathy. "Thought you could run, eh? Thought you could run from your master?"

The man opened his bleary eyes. "I- I never," he croaked.

"Thought you could trade our secrets for your own life?" the voice boomed.

Herren stayed where he was, silent, secretly debating if he had enough strength to Apparate.

"Do you have nothing to say to the man who gave you everything? To the man who you once called 'My Lord'? NOTHING?"

Letting out a small whimper, Herren tried to stand unsuccessfully.

"Maybe it's time you learned a lesson," the voice said silkily. "Crucio!"


Far away, in the boy's north tower dormitories, a scream pierced the silence.

* * *

Coral opened her eyes, and swung her legs off the bed. Rubbing her eyes, she made her way to the fifth-year boy's dormitory.

Upon arrival, she found Harry writhing in bed, clutching his scar, while the other boys hovered around, looking mystified.

"Get out of the way," she told them, leaning over to check on him. Hermione hurried into the room, holding her wand. Coral groaned inwardly. 'Just what I need, that interfering busybody,' she thought to herself.

Coral put her hand to Harry's scar, and his eyes flew open.

"M- my scar," he choked. Coral sighed, and ran a hand over his face. A look of relief passed over his face, then one of suspicion. "How can you do that?" he accused.

"I'm special," she told him dryly. "Now, what happened?"

He closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Voldemort," he said finally. "He was casting Crucio on a man... Herring?"

"Herren?" she asked him softly.

"Yes, that was it."

Coral stood up, her temper flaming. Forgetting she was in full view of about five or six people, she muttered, "That idiot. Herren was supposed to die tomorrow, not today. That moronic idiot, always putting his wand where it doesn't belong..."

Seamus began to snicker, and soon Dean joined in. She shot them a sharp look, and they quelled almost immediately.

She threw a yellow flaming ball towards the ceiling, and disappeared. Harry watched with wide eyes. "There's something not right about that girl..." he wondered aloud.

Hermione sniffed. "How can she Apparate? It's against the law! And how did she cool your scar, Harry?" She paused. "Who is that girl?" she asked them, met with only shrugs. She threw her hands up towards the ceiling. "Boys," she muttered before leaving the room.

* * *

Coral appeared right in the centre of the circle where Herren once stood. Or, rather, crawled around on all fours.

"Voldemort!" she yelled. "You idiot! You complete and utter moron!"

The men standing in a ring were struck dumb. None moved.

"Herren was supposed to die tomorrow, not today! What the hell are you playing at?" Coral screamed. She was not in a good mood. Her hair was in disarray and in knots, she was tired, and Voldemort was really getting too big for his boots.

"Have I done something wrong?" the voice queried.

"No," she told him sarcastically. "Just that Herren was supposed to tell the Ministry your secret hideout in the Andes, so now, I have to go through the whole process of getting another Death Eater to do it!" she whined. "I'm tired! I want to go back to sleep!" She blew a piece of hair out of her face. "Just let Harry have a couple of nights of sleep, okay? I gave you the massacre today, can't that be enough for now?"

"It was a small massacre, my Death Eaters have work to do," Voldemort said coldly.

"It was a massacre, nonetheless. And work? What work? Must be a hard life killing and torturing others who aren't pure-bloods, when you're a Mudblood yourself," she said sarcastically. "Now, leave Harry alone for a few nights, or I can do a lot more than just tell your pureblood minions that you're not one." She waited, tapping her foot.

The Death Eaters still had not moved. Looks of shock had registered on every face there, but none had the gall to do anything about the girl who had come and started insulting Voldemort.

Voldemort was thinking. 'I can't believe I am taking orders from a teenager. I am Lord Voldemort, yet I have to obey a spoiled little girl having a temper tantrum.'

"Fine," he said finally. There were a few gasps of shock and outrage around the circle, but Coral only smiled. "Three days."

She nodded. "I'll be back."

As she disappeared, she muttered, "Harry had better thank me when I get back."

When she was gone, Lucius Malfoy turned to his master. "Forgive me, my Lord," he said humbly.

"Yes?" the cruel voice answered.

"Who WAS that?"