Title: Harry Potter and the Invasion of the 'Sues
Author: Ouvalyrin
Warnings: Over usage of the word "fuck" because it's some girl called "Ravyn Drkfyre" using it, and we all know what she is, some violence in later chapters, OCs and Mary Sues.
Word Count: 2,603
Disclaimer: Since I forgot to write this one for the first chapter, this disclaimer applies to all chapters before, after, and now. So I don't have to bore you with what you already know, other than that Mary Sues are bad. The fic's mine, the characters—aside from the Sporker(s) and Sues—aren't, and Hogwarts isn't something I'd come up with. It sounds like Pigzits.
A/N: I also forgot to mention this: All misspellings ("hawt/t," "kewl," etc.) are on purpose. I'm a preteen, not an idiot. Mild, very mild, Sailor Moon bashing, but only because they leave themselves wide open for it and yeah.
And my Japanese is fairly horrible.

Chapter Two
The Resistance
or...
The Sorting

Cat had slowed to a walk three doors down and found a different, empty compartment that had presented itself cheerfully, despite the fact that earlier, all compartments had been conveniently filled.

Ah yes...the Mary Sue powers of bending and shaping reality to their will (for example: "Voldermont") have just been displayed.

She seated herself in there carefully, stroking Neko-chan absentmindedly as she schemed on how to get her "soul mate." (Though other hot males would be just as good.)

There was a flash of lightening, striking the floor at her feet. Cat screamed dramatically, throwing an arm over her eyes while her other hand began to glow as she formed a blast of magic that would turn her opponent into a puppy, because, y'know, hurting people was bad.

"Put that away," someone ordered sharply. "You weren't singed by the lightening bolt, and we could have killed you if we wanted."

Cat gulped, and her hand went to the magical pendant that hung about her neck, somehow hidden up until this point. You see, that was a part of its power; it hid itself from all eyes until it was needed. It was large, gaudy, and tacky, and looked quite a bit like a twelve-year old's misguided version of a kewl Gawth accessory: Black against the white of her skin, with spikes protruding from the diamond center and somehow managing to avoid gouging her skin, and a black dragon coiled about it all with jewel red eyes not unlike Cat's own.

It had been gifted to her by her dying mother (who, besides giving Cat some rather odd advice, had been rather rich as well). Cat knew not of the pendant's powers, only that, in cases of dire need, it would spin brilliantly -- still not harming her -- and reveal itself to all eyes, defeat whatever great evil had targeted her for the moment, and, to all extents and purposes, die.

Cat was sure that this would be her last moment on earth. What else could a lightening bolt mean? No doubt some evil lord -- no, god -- come to try and take her as his bride and kill her if she refused.

Instead, there was a woman.

And, in the next instant, Cat found herself in a courtroom.

- - -

Morgana looked at the newest one critically. She doubted this "Cat" would be of much help, but every pair of hands was useful.

She eyed the pendant around Cat's neck a little greedily; it wasn't often one found artifacts of magic that commonly displayed, outside of her Resistance.

"You," she said regally, looking down at Cat, "are a very special girl."

Cat gasped in shock. Idiot, Morgana thought, annoyed.

"I knew it!" Cat cried. "I've known it since birth -- am I a princess from the land of Sparklypoo and --"

"No. You..." pause for dramatic affect, "are one of us."

- - -

Cat looked around wide-eyed, taking in the large array of girls before her.

"Liek, hi!" a girl with blue pigtails said. "I'm, liek, Krystil Byll and it's liek, so nice to, liek meet u, unless ur liek, after my men, who're liek, my best friend Draco and liek, Orli."

"Konnichiwa, Cat-chan," another girl with pink hair and cat ears poking out. "Atashi wa Sakura desu."

"Er...what?" Cat asked, befuddled, before her instant translator kicked in. "Oh! Hi!"

"Live sux. U sux. Get the fucking hell out of my fucking sight before I fucking hex your fucking fat ass into fucking oblivion." The dark-skinned girl with blue hair examined her nails critically, headphones still on. Cat took offence at the last comment; her ass was not fat, thank you very much! "Aw, fuck it, I have to fucking redo my fucking nails bcuz I've got a fucking chip. Then I'll have to fucking cut myself and be all fucking angsty and shit bcuz that's cool, yo. Live sux. U sux. Get the..." and so on.

"Ignore Ravyn," the fairy princess with giant, rainbow wings said, curtsying and bowing. Cat liked her on sight. Fairy Princess tossed her hair over her shoulder— another similarity! Imagine that— and sneered at the Ravyn. Cat felt a sliver of admiration for the Fairy Princess, but squashed it firmly. She was the beautiful, sorrowful, tragic, and etc. girl, not these...these...wenches!

"I'm afraid that some of us," and Fairy Princess cast a pointed look at Ravyn, "are less equal than others." Before Cat had time to figure out that sentence, Fairy Princess was charging on. "I am Mayfly Maypole May, the Pretty Pink Soldier of Love. I moonlight as a savior of the world, get straight A-pluses without trying because I'm smarter than Hermione Granger whose brains are nothing but tiny little glass marbles in comparison to mine, balance an overly active social life, and have oodles of money that I have to hide from my relatives because they're so abusive and don't give me an allowance and make me clean my room once a week. They're worse than Harry Potter's Muggle relatives, who I know about because I am the pretty pink soldier of love. Please, do call me Mayflower." Her hair flashed to a different color, this time a delicate shade of pink.

Cat felt herself being overcome by a wash of hero worship, but shoved it aside for smiling superiorly and purring, "Kathy Catherine Greenleaf Malfoy Snape Riddle." Hah! Like some pretty pink soldier of love could beat that!

Mayfly— oh, excuse me, Mayflower— sneered. "You're related to that...that..."

"Don't you fucking dare to fucking insult my fucking man!" Guess who. Krystil echoed Ravyn's sentiments, interposing "like" every other word. (Never mind that being related to the Malfoys, Snapes, and the Riddles were all equally repugnant to most.)

"Enough, girls," Morgana barked. "We are here to see what can be done about our latest enemy, not to squabble like lesser beings." She turned to Cat. "You will meet the rest of us eventually. Take your seat."

Cat paused for a moment, deliberating on protesting, but one look from Morgana and she found herself demurely sitting down. Even Ravyn looked alert.

"This is the Sporker." Morgana gestured behind her, and an image of the Enemy appeared. All girls gasped, some in horror, most in something else. "An attractive young male, roughly fifteen years old, and the wielder of Reality. This means that no matter what you do, girls, you won't be able to make him love you the 'traditional' way— fall in love with him, and I'll feed you all to the giant squid myself." Morgana looked around her meaningfully. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Perfectly," the girls chorused. Cat gulped; the Enemy couldn't be her true love! Impossible!

"Do whatever you can to kill him, but do not implicate yourselves in any way. The Sporker's Academy," and everyone sneered at the name, "will send reinforcements the moment he asks, and from what I understand he's a proud young man. If, for one moment, he believes that he'll need those reinforcements, I will hunt you down and suck out your soul. Understood?"

She would suck out their souls? Cat's hand went to her neck, closing about the pendant.

"You— Catherine, is it?"

"Kathy Ca..." Cat's correction died in her throat. "Everyone calls me Cat."

"A Cat," Morgana muttered to herself. "Better than nothing, I suppose." Then, louder, "Come here. The rest of you are dismissed. Resume your positions."

One by one, the girls faded away, until only Cat and Morgana were left.

"You're going up first," Morgana said. "Your task is to seduce Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. Get rid of the Sporker." Cat opened her mouth, then shut it again, remembering Morgana's threat. "Turn the girl to our side."

"Do you mean Hermione Granger?"

"Yes, her, the girl. She's already begun to feel our influence, and you need to speed up the process."

"How?"

Morgana looked at her coolly. "What do you mean, how? I give you your orders, it's your job to figure out how to do them. Go." She snapped her fingers and Cat found herself back in the train compartment, Neko-chan staring at her peculiarly.

- - -

Morgana shook her head. "A Cat," she said. "I'm trusting a Cat with this."

- - -

"The...Sorting," Vincent said, tearing into a Chocolate Frog bought from the cart a few minutes ago.

"Really?" Hermione asked. Ron twitched, and tore his eyes away from Hermione's nose ring. "What was it like?"

Vincent deliberated for a moment. "Painful," he said, and Harry was reminded abruptly of his own thoughts in first year about being Sorted: Wrestling trolls, pulling white rabbits out of the hat...

"Ours isn't," he said quickly. "We just put the Sorting Hat on our head and it tells us which house we belong to."

"Houses."

"Yeah— we're all in Gryffindor, s' the best of the lot. Ravenclaw's okay, I guess, though it's better than Hufflepuff or Slytherin. And being a Hufflepuff's better than being Slytherin. Slytherin's where all the really evil people go." Ron looked around furtively, before saying in a lower voice, "You-Know-Who was in Slytherin." Instead of replying, Vincent watched Harry through narrowed eyes, and noted his flinch.

"We know, Ron," Hermione said. "And his name is Voldermont. Fear of the name increases fear of the object itself."

Harry gaped. "Erm...Hermione. His name's Voldemort." This time it was Ron who flinched.

"Don't say that name—"

"Are you trying to tell me what his name is?" Hermione demanded, somewhat more shrilly than usual. "Who's the smart one in this compartment, huh?"

Vincent looked back and forth, a curious blankness in his eyes. "We're almost there," he interrupted softly. Then he got up and left.

Ron stared after him. "What was that all about?" he asked.

"How on earth would I know?" Hermione snapped.

- - -

Hagrid's familiar bellow of "Firs' years this way!" greeted them, along with Professor McGonagall appearing before them and ordering imperiously, "Transfer students with me."

There was a surprising number of transfer students, Ron noted, most of them female. He saw Vincent push his way through them to the side of a blue-haired— blue? Ron thought— boy and whisper something in his ear. The blue-haired boy nodded and...vanished? But you can't Apparate on Hogwarts grounds! Ron thought, remembering one of Hermione's lectures.

- - -

Vincent ignored everybody, noting that most of the girls were giving him odd looks and edging away from him slightly. 'Sues, he thought; they must have already been notified.

The Sorting Hat- that's the Sorting Hat? Vincent had thought disbelievingly; he was familiar with this world and knew what the Sorting Hat looked like, but one always expected something a bit grander than reality allowed- finished its song and sat back expectantly.

Professor McGonagall stepped up and unrolled a long parchment.

"Adams, Vincent!"

Vincent stepped up, refusing to show even the slightest bit of nervousness. For one thing, he was a good deal older than the first-years; for another, he had to cultivate the right kind of impression with the students. Vincent took off his glasses and put them in the pocket of his robes.

Professor McGonagall plopped the Sorting Hat on his head, which promptly slid forward, covering his eyes.

"You are not of this world."

What are you, thick? Vincent half-sneered back. Of course I'm not— my coming was foretold. Dumbledore should have received notification two weeks ago. Or did he not bother to inform a lowly talking hat of this?

If possible, the Sorting Hat would have bristled.

"My job is to Sort the students, a job holding more significance and history than you would believe."

And my job is to make sure Harry Potter will actually be alive and in character to defeat the Dark Lord.

Now, more than anything, the Sorting Hat seemed amused. "You're a clever one all right. Manipulative too, and you know better than to display all your cards at once. Throw them out one by one, right?"

Put me in Gryffindor and get on with it; I don't have all day!

"Impatient— impetuous, some might say. Headstrong, certainly. And I shouldn't wonder if you're ruthless as well."

Don't you dare put me in Slytherin, I don't have the time to coddle them every moment of the day and further their silly beliefs. 2

"Of course not— if Voldemort takes over, I hardly believe that he wouldn't rip up an old hat like me. And if those demons win, they'll replace me."

Glad to see you can think.

The Hat opened its brim and roared, "GRYFFINDOR!"

- - -

Harry joined in on the clapping, cheering with the rest of his house. Vincent sauntered over slowly, taking out his glasses and sliding them back on his face.

"Knew you'd make it in," Ron said cheerily, sliding over to make some room for him. Vincent took the spot silently.

"Summers, Lindsey!" A stunningly blond girl sauntered up. Dean let out a whistle and shook his head.

"Transfer student," Vincent grunted.

"Dude, do you not have eyes?"

"Cross dresser," Vincent said, and gestured to the girl.

"No way," another Gryffindor said.

"No chest, hips, or shoulders. Cut the hair and he'll look like a pretty boy."

"GRYFFINDOR!" the Sorting Hat roared after a ten second discussion. The Gryffindors clapped, if not some a bit unenthusiastically; mainly the ones who had heard Vincent's comments.

"What's with the transfer students?" Ron asked. "They're all girls, too- the girls' dormitories'll be overflowing with people."

Vincent shrugged. "They'll start disappearing along the school year," he said.

"Really." Ron looked skeptical; he wasn't the only one.

"Why?" Hermione asked, a spark of something much more familiar reappearing in her voice. Harry and Ron grinned at each other, and the former wondered why he felt so relieved at that.

Vincent, instead of answering, got up and left.

It wasn't until he had reached the Fat Lady that he realized he had forgotten to ask for the password.

Of all the stupidest mistakes...!

He sighed, some of the tension slumping out of his shoulders. It was good to remind himself that he was, after all, only human -- stop him from becoming (reverting, he thought darkly) to what he hunted.

The sound of footsteps. Vincent turned to see Hermione Granger hurrying towards him. He winced, spying the dark blue eye shadow that hadn't been there before the Sorting and dinner. Wonderful -- she's my first target, then. Can't kill her, she's a canonical character. But how, then?

"The password's lionheart," Hermione said. 2

"Ah," Vincent murmured. "Thank you."

The Fat Lady's portrait swung open and Vincent climbed through.

1. I am a devout Slytherin and Draco Malfoy fan. From before the movies. And Tom Felton's not that good of an actor in the Harry Potter movies. And I like them selfish brats in dire need of a good wake up call. And I can actually see where they're coming from on that entire Mudblood/half-breed/Muggleborn - pureblood thing.

2. Shut up. I'm unoriginal.

As always, reviews are my food. And I'm starving. XD Comments, criticisms, suggestions, and the like are always welcome, as are flames. (Make it amusing and stereotypical enough and I'll put it up on some lj-comms.)