HELP
When Harry Potter was ten years old, he met an angel.
Or at least he thought it had been an angel.
He had been out weeding the garden when he beheld, a gargantuan ball of fire pummelling from the morning sky, falling and disappearing out of sight. Gasps came from Number five and twelve Privet Drive while people crowded around the streets, trying to see where the comet had gone.
"That was so cool!"
"Shut up Timmy."
"Did you see that? Wonder where it came from..."
"From the sky, you dipshit."
"Boy! Get in here, now!" His aunt barked from the foyer. He sighed. Surely his aunt knew better than to blame him for the comet; they had been occurring more and more lately, anyway. Not freakish, no thank you!
But she did.
His dumb family really needed to be taught a lesson, sometimes.
As he contemplated this in his peaceful and freak-free cupboard, a thump sounded at the foot of his matress, and he, Harry, did see, and his eyes were opened, for a god- nay, gods- nay, a glowing girl had dropped to the floor.
Clothed in white, untainted robes, it filled his dark and damp cupboard with brilliance, its face blinding to even glance upon. A trumpet sounded, and golden locks of hair rained from the sides of the being's head, smooth and luscious.
In time, the light dimmed, the music went out like a flame, and Harry could finally observe its face- her face, which he recoiled at, for its beauty was too much for him, and his head was surely going to burst into goo from the sheer beauty and pureness her countenance radiated.
As it moved towards him, Harry could only lament at his own unrighteousness, because for Frigg's sake, he was going to die- but he didn't want to!
Honestly, who did?
And here he had thought that God wasn't real. Maybe he should've accepted him in his heart, y'know, when the street preacher had asked him to outside the grocery. Maybe the angel was unhappy about that.
Bloddy hell, maybe God was unhappy about that and had decided to... what was it again? Smite? Yes, smite. Maybe He'd had enough and decided to smite him for not accepting His son as his Lord and saviour.
"I accept Jesus as my Lord and saviour," Harry mumbled. Thunder rumbled overhead, and Harry knew it in his heart that he was a changed man- boy. A good, little boy.
"Do not be afraid, child," it spoke soothingly, as smooth and melodious as a harp. A powerful breeze swept through the cupboard, sending dust flying into the air before they vanished completely in a twinkle of light, along with his misconceived fear.
"For I come in peace." Undercurrents ran wild, tinging her voice with humour. Or maybe Harry had imagined it. Oh well...
Instantly, a warmth which seemed to come from his heart seeped through his body, like whenever his hands got a cramp if he sat on them and stood up a few minutes after.
Of course, the angel wasn't here to harm him. How foolish he had been! He should've known! That flaming sword sure did look good on her.
As if reading his thoughts, it glanced down at her armed hand, her golden eyes widening.
"Oh!" she mumbled, and the weapon poofed into mist.
Then it was just them again. The angel, however, seemed to disregard common personal privacy and awkward silences really well.
"Harry Potter," she breathed, a relatively human arm approaching his fringe as if to brush it aside. "How long it's been since you entered into the gates of Heaven."
An edge of wonder tinged its heavenly voice with not a bit of sadness. Then, raising a finger from her raised arm, she suddenly arced down over his bed and struck the spot on his forehead where his scar was, blinding white shapes flapping behind her back.
As soon as her pinky made contact with that damned scar (for what should attract an ethereal, holy being more than a random etching on a person's face?), Harry's world flooded with waters of biblical agony.
As Harry screamed, a screech exited his scar and split the air, unholy, unearthly, unspiritual (or maybe a bit too spiritual), unedifying, demonic and sad in every way.
A few seconds passed, and the pain ended. Some pungent, steaming black goo trailed glumly down his nose.
Harry coughed, a little faint. He looked at the angel strangely.
"Hello, young padawan! How may I help you?" Her eyes flickered from pure gold to rainbow and back as she adopted a constipated expression, her high cheekbones quivering. Then, with a heave, she exploded in laughter.
Angels didn't laugh, therefore she was not an angel. Why the hell was she laughing anyway? Harry slowly backed away.
"Oh, but they do! They laugh! A lot, in fact!" She exclaimed happily, suddenly sitting up, her wings melting away into shimmers of light.
"Are you actually-"
"Reading your mind? Afraid I am, I'm afraid," she grinned, flashing shark like human teeth. "Being an angel has its perks, after all."
Harry sighed.
"Of course I could read your mind," she squeaked.
Harry facepalmed.
"Fine, fine," the angel pouted. "You're no fun."
She began waving a hand around his head, and it was all Harry could do to stop himself from whacking it away.
"Done!" the angel stood up with a flourish and bowed happily. An excellent performer, if she did say so herself. Between his fingers, Harry slowly opened an eye, which peered inquisitively at the angel.
"Why are you here?" he asked finally, pushing an errant strand of her glorious hair out of his face. The goo dripped and bloomed on his matress.
"Why can't I be here?" she challenged, crossing her arms childishly.
"Just wondering..."
The angel stuffed a handful of golden hair into her mouth. She sputtered and coughed.
"Don't you have messages to relay? You are a messanger of God, right? I heard angels do that," he asked, a little curious. She was cool.
When she only cocked her head in response, he smirked evily. "Don't tell me you aren't actually one, because that would suck." He gasped theatrically. "Or worse, a fallen."
The being merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "If I were any other angel, I would have given you chocolate by now," she said dangerously, her brilliance seeping back into her aura. It disappeared before Harry could avert his eyes.
"But since I come in peace, you'll have to bear with me for the whole journey! Sugar ruins the teeth, naughty boy!" she giggled, placing a firm grip on his arm. An alarmed Harry tried jerking away to no avail.
"Hold on a minute, what in Odin's crows d-" he began desperately.
The world went white. Harry realised he couldn't breathe, couldn't hear, and couldn't speak. The angel still had him clutched firmly, and he scowled. Just when he thought that the insufferable bint would actually kill him before she really did the deed because his body was about to explode, a roar of colour and sound fried his brain.
Harry's bare feet landed on something damp and sticky. Blinking a few times to ascertain what he was seeing, he noted that they had emerged in a place surrounded by lofty, green trees and the buzzing of crickets. The morning sunlight shone dimly through the gaps left by the trees, creating ominuous shadows on the ground. Everything reeked of shit.
"Where a-are we?" Harry asked as calmly as he could. Damn it- He'd just broken rule number one, which was to never provoke beings of heavenly origins which could annihilate armies deliberately!
Spreading her luminescent wings, the angel started gliding around the trees, through the gaps between each branch and disturbing a nest of birds. "Hello there, fellow mortal. I'm afraid I didn't notice you," the celestial landed right in front of him, causing the forest floor to erupt its load all over his face. Irritated, Harry wiped it away.
"We're in Albania, young one," the being said sagely, an air of wisdom and pure holiness emnating from her unmarred essence. "Come and see!"
And behold, Harry observed a black, floaty mist being dragged towards them in chains, chains wrapping around its incorporeal body like it was, well, everything. Material. It shrieked some unknown spiel that drowned out even the hum of the crickets, and Harry winced. His ears were bleeding already.
"This," the celestial spoke, floating beside Harry. "Is Mr Tom Riddle."
"Is that supposed to mean anything to me?" Harry questioned, bemused at everything that had happened so far. An angel, Albania, ghouls... what else was there? Magic?
The spectre howled, and Harry rubbed his ears. Geez, some people... The angel simply smiled indulgently. "Yes, Harrikins, magic is real." Her smile grew wider, gaining an almost sadistic edge to it that Harry hadn't thought possible for a freaking holy angel. "Oh, and just so you know, this unholy blasphemer over here is your parents' murderer."
He didn't reel at that, though he didn't know what to say about it, too. Why was that girl calling the creepy ghost his parents' murderer? Unless...
"So you're saying a magic ghost possessed my parents in their car and made them crash it?" Harry slowly asked, as if speaking to a child (the irony was lost on him).
The angel nodded happily.
"Basically."
"For the love of Freya! Why wasn't I there with them? That is so cool!" Harry paused contemplatively, looking absently at the wailing ghoul and tapping his chin. "Oh, wait, I was, wasn't I? That's how I got my scar-"
The weird ghost like fog pulled against its chains, like a wild, leashed dog, and screeched at him. "No, boy! You foolish imbecilic child, I am- was- I mean technically I used to be a human- argh! Your parents didn't die to that- that muggle thing! They died because I. AM. LORD. VOLDEMORT! Not a mere, lowly, foul SPIRIT! Stupid, stupid stupid. Just d-"
Just when Harry thought his brain would disintergrate, the angel- thank the love of Aphrodite- put up its hand, and the, ah, foul spirit, fell silent, its chains glowing white hot. It convulsed in the air, a dancing, floating, black fog of pure evil.
"That, my boy, is why you don't create horcruxes." The angel admonished sternly, her eyes that of burning diamonds. "It straightaway classifies you as a grade E evil spirit, which means-" her eyes became as big as harps as the same sword of fire she'd vanished rematerialised back in her hands.
"Toodles!" the naughty winged little girl wriggled her fingers around the sword's handle and plunged it into the steamy, black cloud boy who was now hot as Hel.
Screeching away the last of Harry's eardrums, the ghost slowly melded into a small ball of black wool (you know, the one for cats), the weapon dissolving into ash.
Harry decided right then and there that he had to be an angel. Fucking kittens in heaven! Why else would she use her heavenly powers to change that ghost into an unholy lump of it?
Awed, he turned to face the smug being, who was hovering in the air beside him. The naughty girl suddenly wasn't so naughty now. Harry Potter had finally found his soulmate!
"Oh, master, please teach me thine ways. Make me an angel," he dropped to the floor and grovelled her glorious feet. Ooh, tasty. Liquid holiness in the form of heavenly sweat! He lapped it up like a dog, all ready for his meal of delicious kittens.
"Oh, for the love of- please stop!"
The pleased tone didn't help her case very much, but Harry obeyed faithfully. He watched like a cat as she picked the ball of kitten fun, tossing it into the air and catching it with her mouth.
"You know," she harped, thoughtfully righteous. The convert slowly hid his sinful, sneaking hands away and turned his unworthy green eyes upon the glorious being that breathed holiness.
"I never thought I would say this, but you-"
Harry gasped hopefully.
"-humans are rather fun. No wonder my Lord loves you all so much! Imagine..." she sighed dreamily, and Harry sagged in disappointment. Honestly, what had he expected? The angel to accept him as her sex slave? Maybe so, however...
An eagle landed on her shoulder, and she continued musingly- "I came down here on a mission: to learn more about humans. But then I thought to myself, why? Why do that, when there's so much drama going on? Why not be a hedonist a while?"
The eagle squaked, sinking its claws into her robes, but neither paid any attention to it, one twirling a bunch of cotton in her hands while the other gaped fornicatingly.
"And then I heard about you, Harry Potter. What a tragedy! Parents murdered because of a prophecy- and what a prophecy it was, too! You caught my attention, Harry Potter. And that's why I'm here." The eagle danced across her shoulders as they began sprouting another pair of wings, golden, glowing ones.
Obviously prophecies were real. How dull. That part didn't attract his attention. The other did.
Narrowing his eyes, Harry got up to the surprise of the angel, who was beginning to float higher and higher past the trees. The eagle ascended with her, molding to the side of her head. A random puppy trotted past, and he kicked it away.
He'd been bamboozled!
"That's all? Seriously? For the love of angels... why are you really here? You aren't actually a Seraphim, are you?" Harry demanded, his voice magically floating into her ears. Damn it! And she was leaving him too. In the middle of the forest. In Albania. Which was, how far away from Privet Drive's cupboard, exactly?
The angel smiled indulgently. "Say hello to the audience. I'm afraid they aren't quite satisfied, so I'll have to restore dear old Tom back to his swirly, psychotic mess. Don't worry, though, you'll be back in no time!"
She was flying over a few smaller trees now.
"Don't you think it strange that the Dursleys didn't check on you when I graced you with my presence?" The angel shouted conspiringly, her voice echoing through the forest.
Shining so brightly that a few trees caught on fire, she blasted off into the clouds, a blur of white and gold. Harry, still trying to decipher whatever that crack-filled child had said, didn't notice an annoyed teenager dropping out of the skies and hurling a strange, glowing device at the back of his head.
He blacked out.
When Harry Potter was ten years old, he met an angel.
Or at least, he-
"You again!"
With a battle cry, Harry charged at that damned angel. He was impaled through the gut before he could get within three feet of her. Gasping, he fell to the floor face first, blood with a dark, unforgiving red spraying across the angel's white robes.
The angel shook her head and looked up into the heavens, at the blurred figure who was reading everything through some glass firmament which was above even the clouds and her fellow angels (stars). She sighed.
"Forgive me. My fu-freaking G-gerd!" she cursed explosively. "This is way too much fun."
The world exploded into colour. The teenagers had disappeared, too. Peace...
"Peace be with you," a voice greeted Harry at Heaven's gates.
Harry looked up. He cursed. That was impossible!
And then he fainted.