A/N: So this is actually ridiculous for two reasons.
One: you like this story. Honestly, when I published it I was hoping for, maybe, a hundred followers, tops. But we're into the two hundreds, and there's almost 160 favourites and 22 reviews and I just cannot actually believe it.
Two: this whole part is 22,330+ words long. This is only Part One of Arc Two. This is fucking absurd. I know I said I would be publishing one chapter for every part of the story, but holy hell I couldn't bring myself to publish a 22,300+ word chapter. So it's split roughly into four or five, depending on where each bit ended.
I hope you enjoy it and that you don't get bored after the first couple of thousand words.
Arc Two: First Year — I
"How can I send my reply?" Harry asks Lucifer, knowing that Vernon wouldn't waste a stamp on him.
"Just steal a stamp."
"Sorry, Satan, some people find the Ten Commandments as actually useful rules to live by."
"Oh, please, it's the shittiest rulebook in Creation. Dad doesn't care. They're guidelines at best."
"Pretty good guidelines for not going to Hell, I'd say."
"Harry, if you aren't going to go to Hell for letting me in your head, you aren't going to go to Hell for stealing a stamp."
"I don't even know where Vernon keeps things like that."
"For the love of— Let me take over."
"What?! No!"
"Do you want to send the damn letter or not?"
"Yes, but you're not taking over!"
"Then it looks like you're not going to magic school."
"Wh— That's not fair!"
"For God's sakes, all I'm asking is that you let me take over for five minutes so I can deal with this mess. You'll still be conscious, don't worry."
"Lucifer, you telling me not to worry does not make me stop worrying."
"Five minutes."
"No."
"You'll never get to send a reply."
"The answer is still no."
Harry swears he hears Lucifer sigh.
"Alright. I tried playing nice. Sorry, Harry, but almost six years stuck in this house is almost as bad as being back in Hell. Here we go."
Harry is suddenly not in control of his own body anymore. He still senses everything as he would, but it's not him responding to these senses. He feels Lucifer's wings spreading, ready to take flight.
Wind rushes and howls, scenery darts past beneath him, then Harry is in an alleyway somewhere. Lucifer calmly steps out, and Harry sees that he's next to a post office.
Harry struggles against Lucifer, trying to regain control.
"Stop fidgeting."
"Let me back in!"
"You're still in. You're just behind me right now."
Lucifer strolls into the post office.
"Sounds like the start of a bad joke, doesn't it?"
"Let. Me. Back. In."
Harry is ignored.
Lucifer shoves his hands in the pockets of Harry's too-big jeans and produces money out of nothing. He walks up to the counter and buys twelve stamps.
Harry doesn't think he'll ever use twelve stamps.
Then the archangel sticks one in the corner of the envelope and posts it. Lucifer once more returns to the alleyway and takes flight. One exhilarating second later, and Harry is back in his bedroom.
Lucifer recedes, and Harry can move about of his own accord again. He takes a deep breath, furious, and glares at the wall.
"Don't. Ever. Do. That. Again."
"You sent the letter, didn't you?"
Harry slams up the mental barrier.
Lucifer knows he was a little out of line with what he did, but he won't apologise. Not when he knows what he did was for Harry's own good. A chance to get away from the Dursley's, Privet Drive, and Surrey in general? Yes please.
He wasn't about to let something as trivial as a stamp get in the way of freedom.
Still. Harry's obvious anger at his actions makes the Mark on his Grace burn unpleasantly, and Lucifer has to curl tighter around it. He won't let it touch Harry's soul. That could have dire consequences.
The prospect of going to a magical school is interesting to say the least. By the time Lucifer was cast out of Heaven, humans had only just begun to spread. There were some witches and wizards, but they were so rare that they were barely enough to qualify as a race.
But now there's so many of them that they qualify for their own society, schools and all? Very, very interesting.
While in the Cage, Lucifer heard whispers. They told him about various events in the world — part of his punishment, he supposes. To know what's happening but never being able to intervene. He heard about the witch burnings, and that people did it in the name of God. Boy, did he get a kick out of that one. He heard something about a Dark Lord, who seemed much more overhyped in terms of evil than he really was (in Lucifer's not so humble opinion, at least), and a Wizarding War. That was much more recent, but he hardly took any notice of that one. It hadn't been important.
But now Harry is a wizard, so he supposes it is important.
He'll need Harry to stop sulking before he can find out anything about the Wizarding World.
"Boy! Get down here at once!" Vernon bellows.
Harry jerks, staring at the door in horror. Oh, god, what did he do? Swallowing nervously, Harry exits the room and heads down to the living room.
He finds himself craning his neck to stare into the beetle black eyes of the largest person he's ever seen.
"'Ello there, 'Arry. Must say, a've not seen you since you were jus' a little tyke. Grown quite a bit, ey?" The man growls, but his voice isn't unkind. It's almost fond.
"Uh... I'm sorry, who are you?" He asks, confused.
"Rubeus Hagrid. I'm 'ere to answer yer questions about Hogwarts."
From somewhere behind the giant man, Harry thinks he hears Petunia let out a weak gasp.
"Right, uh..." Harry trails off.
There is no way in hell Harry is ever admitting that Lucifer may have possibly been in the right by sending that reply.
What the hell has his Dad been coughing up while he's been in the Cage? A half giant? Really? Lucifer honestly thought his Dad was done with creating after humans. But nooo, he just had to go and add some more bacterium to this infested petri dish.
Honestly, it's like his Dad doesn't even realise there are other planets out there that are just fine for little experiments like this. But, no, Lucifer is wrong, Dad is right, and everything should just be tossed on the same glorified lump of rock.
Freaking ridiculous.
Absently he wonders if Harry will ever admit that he was right to send that reply. Knowing the infuriatingly insolent child, probably not.
Despite Vernon and Petunia's outrage, Harry finds himself walking side by side with Hagrid to the wizarding community of London. Honestly, he had no idea there even was a community.
He can feel Lucifer at the back of his mind trying to talk to him, but Harry simply strengthens the barrier. It won't keep the archangel out if he tries to take control again, but it at least gets the point across that he is angry.
Honestly, and Lucifer wonders why Harry doesn't trust him?
Okay, so Harry doesn't want to talk to him. Fine. That's fine. Lucifer will just entertain himself by learning about this magical community, then.
When they walk into the inn, The Leaky Cauldron, and Hagrid introduces himself and Harry to the bartender, Lucifer sure as hell wasn't expecting everything to fall silent.
Harry appears to be just as confused as he is, and even a little bit terrified, when some witch shakes his hand and says what an honour it is to meet him.
Things only get weirder from then on.
The fury Lucifer feels at that disgraceful family for lying about how Harry's mother and father died — that they were murdered, no less — is almost enough to tear down Harry's mental barrier. He feels the boy hastily fortify it, all the while trying to get his own roiling emotions under control.
Lucifer coils himself in tightly as the Mark burns and writhes and positively hisses. He keeps himself well clear of Harry's soul.
His Dad wants him to learn from the humans? Oh, Lucifer has learnt plenty. They're vile, cruel, dangerous, lying vermin, and six years on this earth has shown him nothing less.
He supposes there is an exception to every rule; Harry being the only halfway decent person he's met so far. He'll be damned — again — if he lets something bad happen to Harry.
Lucifer just wishes he could get his hands on that so called Dark Lord and show him the true meaning of power.
Platform Nine and Three Quarters. Well. Harry isn't sure how much this makes sense in the Wizarding World, but in the realm of regular, not insane people, there isn't a Three Quarter platform. Especially not in Kings Cross.
"I'd offer to fly you there, but you didn't seem to like it last time."
"Shut up, Lucifer."
He's taken the barrier down, if only because the sensation of the archangel practically scratching at the wall was irritating beyond belief, and he kept having to strengthen it every time his concentration slipped slightly.
"Platform Nine and Three Quarters, this way!"
Harry turns, hopeful. He blinks in surprise as an army of redheads marches past.
"Are you just going to stand there, or are you actually going to follow them?"
Gritting his teeth in frustration, Harry follows the family. He knows his mouth is hanging open as he watches redhead after redhead go through the wall, and it isn't until Harry takes a look around that he realises the wizards literally meant Nine and Three Quarters.
"Wizards are strange," Lucifer remarks idly.
Harry ignores him in favour of the redhead family. "Excuse me?" He calls, pushing his trolley and new owl, Hedwig, over to the mother. The woman turns, kind smile on her round face. "Excuse me, but could you tell me how to— how to—" He nods at the pillar, lost for words.
"How to get on to the platform? Yes, of course!" She says, laughing. "Not to worry, dear, it's Ron's first year at Hogwarts, too!"
Harry peers around her to look at her (unsurprisingly ginger) son, who half smiles and waves awkwardly.
"Now, all you have to do is run straight at the barrier without stopping."
Harry just stares at the veritably insane woman.
"Don't worry, dear, it's perfectly safe."
Harry swallows.
"It's okay, Harry. I'll smite her if she's wrong."
"Please be quiet I'm about to run headfirst into a solid brick wall and I'd rather not be distracted thanks."
Harry runs at the pillar, squeezing his eyes shut.
There's darkness, then warm light and the sound of steam.
Harry opens his eyes to Platform Nine and Three Quarters.
"Trains are slow and cramped and bumpy."
"You're being annoying."
"You're being boring."
"Maybe I don't want to talk to you."
"Why wouldn't you?"
"Maybe because you possessed me."
"Six years too late for that argument, Harry."
Someone knocks on the door, and Harry realises he's been glaring at the scenery for the past ten minutes. He turns to see the redheaded boy whose name Harry can't recall standing unsurely at the door.
"Uh, do you mind? Everywhere else is full."
"No, no — go ahead," Harry says, smiling and gesturing to the seat opposite.
He sits. "I'm Ron, by the way. Ron Weasley."
"Harry. Harry Potter."
Ron's eyes widen, and Harry's stomach sinks. "Harry Potter? So then... Do you really have the..." Ron lowers his voice to a whisper. "The scar?"
Harry raises his eyebrows, but nevertheless pushes his wild hair out of the way to show Ron his unusually shaped scar.
Ron grins. "Wicked."
Harry laughs, trying to flatten his hair back down but to no avail.
The next few hours are spent talking about Hogwarts, with Lucifer being mercifully quiet (read: ignoring him like an infant). Harry is sure he became Ron's best mate the very second he bought a trolley full of sweets. He was shown the boy's pet rat, and though he doesn't say anything, Harry immediately dislikes it. Something just feels wrong about it. A bushy haired girl, Hermione Granger, came in looking for some boy's toad. She seemed nice enough, if not a bit of a know-it-all.
Still, though, Harry is actually quite optimistic about Hogwarts.
Lucifer listens carefully to everything he's told about the Wizarding World. It really has progressed quite a bit, hasn't it? Casting his awareness out over the entire school grounds, Lucifer learns every little secret this school could possibly be hiding — and there are a surprising amount. By human standards, the castle is quite impressive, he thinks. The grounds are definitely big enough, should he feel the need to stretch his wings.
Standing in the antechamber, he watches the same platinum blonde boy from the robes shop — Madam Malkins or something? — approach Harry, backed by two rather large, rather stupid looking boys.
"So it's true, what they've been saying on the train. Harry Potter has come to Hogwarts," the boy says, sounding far too interested for Lucifer's liking.
Whispers break out. It really doesn't sit well with him that these people — these children — know something about his vessel that he didn't until very recently.
Draco Malfoy, the boy introduces himself as. What a curious surname.
He makes a jab at the ginger kid and his family, and Lucifer keeps back. He's curious to see how Harry will handle it.
"I think I can decide the wrong sort for myself, thanks."
Ooh, Lucifer is almost proud of the cold dismissal that was oh so clear in Harry's tone. Maybe he's had more of an influence than he thought.
"Nicely done, Harry."
The doors to the Great Hall open, and the first years file in. He can feel Harry's nervousness.
"Lucifer?"
"Mm?"
"What are you going to do about this Sorting Hat."
"What about it?"
"Weren't you listening?"
"Busy learning everything I can about this place. What about the Hat?"
But as he sees Abbot, Hannah go up to be placed in Hufflepuff (and what ridiculous names they have), Lucifer quickly realises the problem.
"Ah. Don't worry. We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
"Not helpful."
Names are read out and Houses are given. When Potter, Harry is announced, whispers once more descend on the crowd.
"Don't worry, Harry, a little hero worship never hurt anyone."
"I wish you'd shut up."
Panic is the last thing Lucifer receives from the boy before Harry throws up the mental barrier as soon as he sits himself on the stool.
"Harry!" Lucifer yells, trying to do something about the Hat before-
Oh.
The Hat is placed on Harry's head. And Lucifer recognises it.
The presence completely tears down the barrier, leaving all lines of communication open, so to say.
"Dad what the hell are you doing in a hat."
"Hello, Lucifer, Harry. I felt like having a chat to see how things are going, and the Hat was more than willing to let me take over for a minute or two."
Lucifer cannot actually believe his Father. "Things are fine, now please leave."
He can feel Harry's panic.
"Don't be afraid, Harry. While I'm sure my son has told you some less than complimentary things about me—"
"—don't act like you don't know every damn thing that I've said, done or seen these past six years—"
"—you don't have to be scared of me. I'm just checking up on the two of you."
For crying out loud, it's almost as thought the Meddling Old Coot doesn't trust him. It's exactly like He doesn't trust him. Does no one trust him? Feeling more than a little irked and very much wanting this encounter to be over, Lucifer says, "You've checked, and now you can leave."
"Uh..." Harry trails off, bewildered and completely ignoring Lucifer, which is beyond rude when sharing a headspace with said archangel. "Why?"
"I want to know if you're happy."
"I, um, yeah, I guess."
"Good. Lucifer, it looks like your work is half done."
He immediately gets a hold of his emotions before he has a chance to identify that cold, heavy feeling at the centre of his Grace. Any fiery retort he had ready flickers out and dies.
"Harry, you'll need my son more than you know in the coming years. You won't have an easy life, I can tell you that now."
"Oh," Harry says. Lucifer feels his fear. "Uh, anything I should look out for?"
"Harry," his Dad sounds amused, the bastard. "That's cheating."
"Um, right, sorry," Harry says, sheepish.
"Don't be," He says kindly, and Lucifer would roll his eyes if he was in control of his vessel. "I'll tell you what I told Lucifer, Harry: I believe you can forge your own destiny."
Harry evidently doesn't know what to make of that, so the boy remains silent.
"You can go now," Lucifer says flatly, totally and completely ready for the entire year to be over already.
"I might check in again. You're doing well, my son." His presence recedes, and the only thing remaining is the awareness of the Hat.
"Well now, this is something I haven't seen before," the Hat says good-naturedly in a deep, gravelly voice.
"You're the Sorting Hat?" Lucifer asks, weary after his Dad's little visit and just wanting quiet.
"I am. And you are not Harry Potter."
"I'm Harry, that's, uh—"
"Lucifer," he says bluntly, making his presence very much known to the Hat. If the infernal thing can deal with the full presence of his Father, it can deal with the Grace of an archangel.
"...I see. From looking at you both I can see that I must treat you as one person rather than two."
"Just get on with it," Lucifer snaps, wanting the damned Hat to sort them already.
"I think people are getting worried," Harry says, and Lucifer brings his attention back to the Great Hall. Sure enough, people are starting to stare, and whispers once more rise.
"Never mind them, this is difficult... Knowledge — more than I've ever seen, my goodness… Ravenclaw wouldn't know what hit them... Courage, too, from the looks of your histories — old Godric's house would be ideal... But loyalty; to let someone you didn't know in your own mind just to help them. Helga would be proud... Ah, but it was a thirst to be better, wasn't it? Yes, ambition and cunning — traits you both possess in no small amount… Yes, I know just where to put you... Slytherin!"
Murmurs break out, and not a single person claps.
Everything is grave as Harry moves to sit with the green and silver house.
Harry doesn't like this. If it weren't for the fact that Lucifer's Dad — God — decided to drop in to have a chat, he would have asked the Hat to place him anywhere but Slytherin. But no, God felt like the ideal time to stop by for the world's most uncomfortable family reunion was in the middle of the Sorting when all eyes were on the Famous Harry Potter. And really, when you've got God in your head having a chat with you it's not like you could really pay much attention to anything else going on. But now Harry is in the dungeons, with everyone in his House avoiding so much as looking at him, and with Lucifer sulking.
"I'm not sulking, you brat."
"Feels like you're sulking. Just because your Dad stopped by?"
"Your dad didn't get your brother to throw you in Hell."
"My dad's dead and I don't have a brother."
"Cry me a river, Harry. The way I see it, you're lucky."
Harry has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes as he heads up to the boys' dorm. He opens the door and holds back a sigh. Brilliant. He's sharing a room with Draco Malfoy. There are three others in the room too: Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott and Miles Bletchley.
"This is going to be a nightmare."
"Cheer up. You're only going to be with them maybe twenty hours a day."
"Thanks. I feel much better."
Malfoy glares at him. Harry ignores him, drags his trunk over to the available bed, and begins unpacking.
Everything is done in a stony silence, and that's how it goes until lights-out.
The next day when Harry enters the Great Hall for breakfast, everything goes silent.
"Think they might have been talking about you?"
Harry ignores the archangel and sits at the Slytherin table. Conversation slowly returns to the occupants of the Hall. When Blaise Zabini slides in beside him, Harry has to admit he's surprised.
"Slytherin is going to chew you up and spit you back out again if you don't mark your place."
"I... What?" Harry stares at the boy, startled.
"Well, for starters," Zabini says, helping himself to toast from the centre of the table. "You're a half-blood, which automatically puts you at a disadvantage."
"I'm sorry but I'm really not interested in any power plays going on in this House," Harry says, grabbing a slice of toast and moving to stand.
"You're already playing, Potter. To be in Slytherin House is to play the game."
Harry sits back down, regarding the boy with interest. "Alright, explain it."
Zabini smirks.
Zabini seems like an alright guy, if not a little full of himself (but then, who isn't in this house?). It's just a shame that Harry really isn't interested in this elaborate game Slytherin has going on.
In Potions, Harry sees the divide in the classroom very clearly. Slytherins on one side, Gryffindors on the other. What he's about to do is basically social suicide in Slytherin, but at least it'll make his feelings on the matter very clear.
Harry goes over to the middle if the room, where Hermione is sat. On one side is Ron, but on her other side is an empty chair.
Hermione looks up at him in surprise. "Oh, Harry, hello."
"Can I sit here?" He asks.
Ron eyes him warily. "You're in Slytherin."
"And you're in Gryffindor. I have eyes."
Hermione interjects. "Won't you get in trouble?"
Harry looks around. People are staring at him in open disbelief. "Well," he starts, shrugging. "Technically I'm still on the Slytherin side of the room."
Hermione smiles, albeit a little unsurely. "Alright then."
Harry seats himself beside her, feeling the eyes of every Slytherin and Gryffindor on him.
"You're going to have fun explaining this when the day's over."
Harry raises the mental block, already dreading it but not regretting it in the slightest.
Lucifer is curious about that Professor Severus Snape. He seems determined to ignore Harry, and every time the boy manages to answer a question correctly he simply glares and moves on.
So Lucifer may or may not be taking a little look inside the man's mind, and possibly through some memories of his.
Oh.
The most prominent thought in Snape's mind, seemingly repeated whenever he looks at Harry is:
He has Lily's eyes.
Lucifer might not understand this kind of love, but the man's sense of loss is something Lucifer only remembers feeling once. Through the cracks of the Cage, hearing the whispers of the Host… Feeling their grief as they sang about the death of Gabriel, the Messenger, youngest of the archangels, and Lucifer's little brother.
It's a hollow, cold sensation, and he pulls away from the potion master's mind before he can dwell on it any longer.
And the Mark aches, but that could also just be him.
Flying lessons. On brooms. Harry isn't sure how to feel about this, but he can feel Lucifer's distaste at the mere notion of it. Whatever. The archangel can't dictate what he does or doesn't enjoy doing.
"Stick out your right hand over your broom, and say up!"
Madam Hooch is a strict woman, but there's something about the idea of flying — him flying, not Lucifer — that's so enticing, so thrilling, that he's willing to put up with anything.
"You can't tell me that you think a wooden stick is better than wings?" Lucifer asks, indignant.
"At least I can control where I'm going," Harry retorts.
Lucifer recedes, feeling rather like he's pouting.
"Up!" Harry orders the broom, and it flies into his hand on the first try while his classmates struggle.
"Grip it tight. You don't want to be slipping off the end," Madam Hooch says, and — just like that — Lucifer cackles wildly at the back of his mind, and Harry has to bite his lip to stop laughing.
"Grip it tight, Harry."
"Shut up — not in the middle of a lesson!"
"Is that a promise for later?"
"You're disgusting." But Harry bites down on his lip harder to stop laughing.
Ron gives him an odd look from over on the 'Gryffindor side'. "You alright?"
Harry nods, still trying to suppress a grin.
It's at that moment, as Madam Hooch is giving further instructions, that Neville Longbottom lifts shakily off the ground and into the air. What follows is an all around disaster. When Longbottom is hanging from a statue by his robes, Harry knows this can't end well.
"Lucifer, help him," he says.
"Why would I do that?"
"He's a kid!"
"He's human. His mortality is nothing new. There are a few billion other kids to replace him."
"Lucifer, please!" He says frantically when he sees Longbottom's robe begin to tear.
And, being incredibly petulant about it, Lucifer's Grace stretches out and diverts Longbottom's fall so that he is caught on a torch on his way down. When he finally hits the ground, he has a sprained wrist and nothing more.
"Thank you," Harry says, breathing a sigh of relief.
"Shut up," Lucifer says.
Once again, Harry has to bite down on his lip to suppress his grin. From the corner of his eye he sees Malfoy pick up a spherical glass object. Frowning, he listens as the blonde insults Longbottom brutally. "—maybe he would have remembered to land on his fat arse!"
Crabbe and Goyle snicker, and Harry glares at Malfoy.
He steps up to the boy. "That doesn't belong to you," he says, nodding down at the… thing. Harry honestly has no idea what it is, but it very obviously isn't Malfoy's.
The blonde straightens and glares daggers at Harry. "Oh yeah? Finders keepers, Potter."
"You'll be finding my foot up your arse in a minute, Malfoy. Keep that," Harry says, keeping his voice steady.
Several people discreetly giggle, and Harry feels Lucifer listening with no small amount of amusement.
Crabbe and Goyle puff their chests out and move to flank Malfoy. Harry isn't intimidated.
Malfoy smirks, looking much more confident now that his bodyguards are with him. "If you want it so badly," he says, and mounts his broom. The boy gracefully rises from the ground and does a loop around Harry. "Come and get it."
Harry mounts the worn out broom and readies himself to kick off. He feels the ghosts of six huge wings behind him, ready to stabilise him should he wobble. He's about to rise from the ground when Hermione clamps a hand down on his arm.
"Harry, you can't be serious!" She gasps, eyes wide.
He pulls his arm free. "I'll be fine. I've flown before," he says, trying to comfort her. It's not necessarily a lie, even if it is a non-truth.
Hermione backs away, watching him with a worried frown as he rises surprisingly smoothly from the floor and into the air.
Harry leans forwards as he rises to Malfoy's level, trying to find his centre of gravity.
"Gravity is for those ruled by the laws of physics. You won't fall," Lucifer says confidently.
Harry sits a bit straighter on the broom.
Malfoy is lazily tossing and catching the glass sphere, smirking at Harry when he draws near.
"Give it here, Malfoy. It's not yours," Harry says blandly.
The blonde shrugs. "Like I said: if you want it, come and get it."
Harry darts forwards, making to grab the sphere. His fingers brush the glass, but Malfoy flips on his broom, coming to sit neatly atop it once Harry has gone past.
"You missed."
Harry scowls.
"If you want I could—"
"No."
Harry flies towards Malfoy with twice the speed, determination and confidence this time. Malfoy veers right, and Harry pursues. He comes up beside him as they begin to fly in vast circles around the courtyard.
"Give it to me, Malfoy!" He yells over the wind.
"Why'd you care so much, Potter?" Malfoy asks with a sneer.
"Because it's the right thing to do!" He retorts sharply, then makes to grab the sphere again.
Malfoy stops short, leaving Harry to stop a few yards away from him. The blonde is breathless, but Harry is barely affected by the exertion.
Malfoy smirks and fingers the sphere. "Let's see how fast you really are."
And the git throws it.
He tosses it quick and far, and Harry zooms past Malfoy without a care for whether or not the boy falters on his broom. Faster, faster, almost there, oh crap that's a wall, almost there— Got it! Harry flips abruptly, just managing to pull away from the tower wall in time, with the sphere safe in his hand.
"Still think wings are better?" He asks, throwing and catching the ball with a triumphant grin.
Lucifer is far from impressed. "Infinitely."
Harry thinks he ought to be keeping a lower profile than this. But Snape, Dumbledore and McGonnogall had, unfortunately, been in an office in the tower Harry had almost crashed into, and they had all seen him flying.
He thought he'd be expelled.
He didn't expect to be made Slytherin Seeker.
Lucifer thinks it's hilarious.
Harry wonders why God is determined to draw attention to him.
Zabini doesn't sit across from him again. Rather, he sits a few seats down, but still within earshot, Harry notices. The boy's dark eyes seem to almost glitter when he looks over at him, and there's a slight quirk to his mouth.
Later, when Harry is walking back to the common room, Zabini comes into an easy stroll beside him.
"I've got to say it, Potter: you're crazy."
"Yeah, the warning was appreciated and everything, but I'm just not interested—"
"So I saw. Just thought that you should know that I'm not all that interested in a kingdom like Draco. And, to be perfectly honest, after you showing him up today there're a few people who'd rather throw their lot in with you."
Oh god. "I don't want—"
"I know. Just thought I'd warn you that you might have a few disciples, if you'd let them follow."
And isn't that choice of wording more than a little ironic. Still thought, he can't help but wonder… "Everyone knows I'm a half-blood. Why are you being so…"
"Nice?" Zabini shrugs and quickens his pace as they near the dungeons. "What good would it do me if I wasn't? I'm already in the good books with both you and Draco."
As Zabini rounds the corner, Harry realises just how calculating his housemates really are.
Thanks to Lucifer, Harry doesn't really need to sleep. Also thanks to Lucifer, he can go about completely unnoticed by anyone. He spends his night exploring the castle, looking into all the interesting little places Lucifer has told him about.
"Seventh floor has an interesting room. I think the door is actually a dimensional gateway that leads to a different place depending on the person's needs."
"Seventh floor?"
"Mm. Behind a tapestry."
"I'll look later. Can't be bothered figuring out the changing stairs at the moment."
"Well, for now there's always the Dark Forest or the mysterious chamber beneath the school."
Harry sighs. "Anything that probably isn't dangerous?"
"Where's the fun in that?"
"What? In not dying?"
"As if anything in that forest could kill me."
Harry rolls his eyes at the archangel's typical overconfidence.
"It's not overconfidence if it really won't kill me."
Harry considers it a miracle that he managed to dissuade Lucifer from taking them anywhere that could get him expelled. Instead they ended up in the library for a good six hours until it started getting light and Harry decided they should go back and dress for breakfast. Lucifer reluctantly agreed. Harry promised they will go back to the library and Lucifer can read all he wants (it's about the safest thing Harry can get the archangel interested in, so it's a win-win in that Harry gets to learn new things and Lucifer isn't destructively bored).
After breakfast he makes his way to lessons.
Defence Against the Dark Arts is taught by a complete and utter moron. By the time he's stuttered his way through a sentence, half the class has already lost interest and is doodling on their parchment.
It gets so dire that Harry actually takes down the mental wall in class with the hopes of having a decent conversation, given that Hermione is still listening to Quirrel's stammering with the hope of making some sense out of it.
"I can teach you what you need to know about defence."
"You've been in Hell for god knows how long."
"I'm aware that God knows, thank you, but I also wasn't ignorant to the goings-on in the world."
"Right. Go on then."
"Well, for starters I can tell you that this idiot is telling you everything you shouldn't do around a vampire."
Lucifer wonders just what the hell the Headmaster was thinking when he hired Quirrel. For starters, the man is an idiot. And, of course, there is the fact that he reeks of dark magic.
He takes a closer look at the human's soul. It's darker than it should be, almost a murky grey, but there's also something there, tainting it... A dark, twisted mess that looks an awful lot like a larger version of what Lucifer saw attached to Harry's soul.
This isn't right. Something is definitely wrong here, and Lucifer intends to find out what.
A/N: So that's part one of part one of arc two. God, this is ridiculous. I'm gonna publish part two of part one of arc two soon-ish (maybe next week), because I'm done with First Year now. After First Year ends there will be an interlude for Harry's summer break (most of which I've written already). I really ought to start writing Second Year. Saying that, I'm only in my first week of sixth form and I already have a ton of homework, so I'll warn you now that this story will be pretty slow going. Maybe an update every couple of weeks, or every month if I'm busy. I know that's not really fair on you guys, but I won't have time to do much more.
On another note, thankyouthankyouthankyou you are all amazing people and I love you and I cannot believe how many people are actually following this story already.