Harry is looking for the shards of Voldemort's soul when he encounters someone, helpfull, and yet, not so helpful. A strangly random story, part of an incomplete series.
*Hey kid, who you lookin' at?
Why you standin' all up in my face like that?
You ain't never seen a baseball bat?
A maniac knockin' on your baseball cap*
Harry had an uneasy feeling. Looking for the shards of Voldemort's soul was frustrating, and tiring. The town was dark, although it was late afternoon and the sun was still beating down. He became lost in one particular building, it looked although a small giant bustled through.
"HEY!" Harry was flat of his arse. Looking up at a sturdy girl, tall and well built, with short hair, and a baseball bat. Harry got up. He was mad. He spit words into her face. The girl pushed him back.
"Who you lookin' at?"
"The cow behind you." He was in her face again. "Who the fuck do you think?" Harry asked, stressing g the curse.
"Why you standing all up in my face, bitch?" the girl asked with equal venom and stress on her own curse. She then did the unexpected; she punched him and held her bat aloft. Harry's eyes widened.
"What is that you're holding?" The girl snorted.
"Ain't you ever seen a baseball bat?"
*You better step about ten paces back
Or you'll be layin' where your shoelaces at
Go do what your momma told you*
Her eyes narrowed. "Step back, or I'll plant you were your laces at. Do it. Be a good boy and remember what yo' momma taught you." Harry placed a hand by his pocket. There in the folds of the fabric was his wand and cell phone.
*And don't be actin' like a punk, thinkin' your a soldier
I see you got a cell phone, i got a number you can dial son, make it 911*
"Wha'cha think you gonna pull? A cell phone? Bitch please. I got a number for ya, 911."
"I've got more than a cell."
"Did I ask you to talk, punk? Now. What the fuck do you thing you're doing in my hood."
"Looking for something."
*Tell 'em stop at Hef's house on the way kid
Pick up some playmates but only if they naked
Don't know how you do in your city*
The girl punched him, and held the bat higher. "I don't know how they do in yo' city, but here we get straight answers."
But 'round here we gettin' down to the nitty gritty
Harry though for a millisecond. He could risk it. "I'm looking for pair of 'angel wings'. I heard they were here." The girl's eyes widened. She swung her bat, and Harry jumped back. She swung again and hit him on the head.
"A maniac knockin' on your baseball cap," she hit him again, and again. Harry's face was bloody and gushing. "I hate to put you out like that. But you've been burnin' like a fire with a mouth like that." She took out his cell and pressed three numbers.
"Wha...?" Harry let out dumbly.
"OhmiGod! There's a boy! In the street, he's been beaten! Help!" She shrieked unnaturally. "Um, oh God! 7th Avenue, in Lorstown! Hurry!" She closed the phone and placed it in Harry's pocket.
"Yo' wings," she said, stepping to one side, "are in," she crushed Harry's right hand, "the next" she crushed the other, "town over."
"Creamer. Cream for short. I'll see you later. Ask for the Dila Nor. That'll get yo' the wings." She turned and walked away as Harry was greeted with screams of an ambulance.