A/N: I own nothing but a few OCs in the makings of this story. This story has been on my mind for years!Yes, yes, it took me this long to muster up the courage to actually write and publish.

For any clarification, this is an AU where my OCs are in Harry Potter. What will change? —Well you're just going to have to read and find out!

Warnings? Well..this is my first story EVER. Please excuse my mistakes, I'm unfortunately the only individual proof reading this. Without further ado, let us begin!

!This story written is for entertainment purposes only!

Chapter One: Into the rabbit hole

Through the large plain lands, through the woods and its inhabitants settled a manor, at the very girth of towering pines. It's left side a little greenhouse, with what was once a beautiful garden now littered with withering peonies. It's glass cracked, having turned into a disgusting yellowish-green hue; it's insides were an organic mess. Black decayed leaves sprinkled all over the floor, having long passed the brown crispy stage, its hosts left behind and unattended to.

Upon the manor's third floor, was a decent sized window just above the greenhouse, reflecting the view of the sunset just above the rough triangle-shaped silhouettes of the trees. Transparent from the outside, sat an eleven year old boy, hazel hair courting creamy silver strands, it wasn't messy enough to be considered messy, it was just tufts of fluffy hair. His eyes, steely silver and icy blue fixed on his parchment, quill dipped, used and poised over it. The boy put his quill back into the ink pot, leaning back and looking over at the seventy percent filled parchment appraisingly. "Aha! Finished at last!" Was his triumphant exclamation, the dreadful silence of the room echoed back at him was both taunting and expected.

Looking back at the pillar of thick books and tomes sitting dauntingly on his desk, his wooden chair creaked as he stretched, his joints popping in relief having sat in the same position for a long time. Checking the time using a quick tempus charm. His father had gifted or rather given him a temporary wand for his sixth birthday expecting him to start studying ahead. And so here he was, working himself, trying to meet his, frankly, ludicrous expectations, studying the art of magic at such a young age. The charm revealed it to be 6:24 pm, ah, the time for self nourishment for the third time that day. That also meant dinner with Lucifer. Spectacular.

Knowing his father wouldn't tolerate his delayed arrivals, he stood up, walking over the mirror that sat at the corner of his room. He took a moment to inspect his attire. His reflection as usual was rather dull, his skin was unhealthily pale as always, being cooped up in the house was really taking a toll on him, that was an understatement. He really couldn't recall the last time he was given the permission to leave the confines of the morbid walls, the only eye witness to the sins of its inhabitants. Driven by proper etiquette, he fixed his bowtie, the sapphire blue eye at the center blinking up at his reflection, a detail one would find quite often in the wizarding world. Fixing the little wrinkles on his plain white sleeved shirt. Giving himself a once over, he took a moment appreciate how tall he's grown, it wasn't that tall but it was still tall enough for him to be deemed healthy. He's made sure of that. He didn't like the thought of looking up to Lucifer or anyone else for that matter—well sure, he still was much shorter at the moment but he was sure that would change as he was still after all, only eleven. With that, he stored his wand in his left pocket of his black shorts and headed downstairs.

The track down towards the dining room was eerily silent as silent as he was being. Years of living around the man who, presumably, had the attention span of a goldfish had taught him the skill of moving silently. His black socks moved silently over dark, loose floorboards of the manor, descending the unnecessarily wide staircases. Even the many ancestral portraits hung around the manor were quiet, having long been silenced for their impertinence, not that they were ever wrong, of course. He passed the second floor which, out of all places in the house was the dullest, his mother's unmoving portrait hung there, just a picture of the past, not a memory like the rest. Cassiopeia Eveningstar was a wonderful woman, she cared for her child greatly, yet, she'd lost her life after encountering a particularly nasty disease. The boy, her son, Elliott Eveningstar did not so much as glance at her, knowing it only served to bring back an unpleasant memory.

At last, he's finally made it to the dining room. Lucifer was, unsurprisingly, already there. A copy of the Daily Prophet in his hands. His face was set into that same stoic line, his cold, silver eyes, drilling holes into the paper. Elliott had barely stepped into the room and the air already felt suffocating, he took it upon himself to sit at the very opposite end at the long table, the many other seats, vacant, left reserved for when they had guests..followers...same thing.

The room was just as silent as the rest of the manor, save for the clattering of cutlery. Elliott helped himself to the plate of mashed potatoes and gravy, completely ignoring the man sitting a few feet away from him. Well who could blame him? Having dinner with the late dark lord of the century was certainly not in your greatest interests; let alone having one for a father. Yes, Lucifer Eveningstar wasn't a good man, in fact, he should be serving the rest of his life in the miserable cells of Azkaban. After his defeat at the hands of Albus Dumbledore, it has costed him his wand which was now, bitterly, in the possession of his nemesis (That's right! The elder wand first fell into Lucifer's hands here). Imagine the surprise the headmaster had gotten when he found Cornelius flanked by Lucifer and Lucius, the alliteration was almost laughable. Elliott still wondered what possessed the minister of magic to hire such a man into his ranks, advisor, no less.

Stupid peop- "Elliott."

The boy's eyes snapped up to Lucifer, whose intense gaze was now focused solely on him.

"Yes, sir?" He said, straightening up in his seat slightly.

The man had set his newspaper down, his sinful hands clasped, looking down at him. "Did you finish?" He drawled and the boy knew exactly what he was talking about.

"Yes, sir." Elliott replied, thinking back to the many books he'd been given to read in such a short period of time.

If Lucifer was satisfied, he most definitely did not show it. "Next week." He began. "You'll be going to Diagon Alley, are you not?" He inquired smoothly.

The boy's eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion, "Yes..about that..I thought students weren't allowed to be unsupervised..sir."

The man's face twisted into an unpleasant smile as though Elliott had just asked him to go shopping with him. The thought made the boy inwardly sneer..as if!

"Your..supervision would be managed by Drizzle." He said shortly.

Elliott scoffed, Drizzle was their house elf, it wasn't that he was against house elves but was he really reduced to shopping with them? Besides, Drizzle doesn't count as supervision—does he? "I doubt a house elf would be enough." He snarked.

Lucifer tilted his head slightly, studying him. He hummed, "Perhaps Drizzle cannot protect you, he is after all, nothing but a house elf. Those things are scrawny and clumsy as they come."

Elliott had been hoping to go with his aunt, she was, quite literally, the only person he had left and it irritated him to no end that the situation was being drawn out, only for him to be undoubtedly denied in the end. "Your point?" He said, through gritted teeth, forgetting himself.

"You'll be leaving in a week. With Drizzle." The finallity in his father's tone booked no room for argument.

Hot frustration bubbled inside of him despite the decent weather. He'd held his tongue though as there was nothing he could do about it without getting himself hurt. Lucifer lazily waved his hand, a gesture to say that he was dismissed. However, just as the boy was about to leave, he spoke.

"Oh, and Elliott?" He waited for the boy to turn around and meet his unyieldingly sharp gaze.

"Watch your tone."

The next moment Elliott knew, he was being hurled by an invisible force, like a leaf being blown by a horrible gust of wind, the heavy double doors that connected the dining room to the hallway, betrayed him, flinging itself open, letting him slam straight to the opposing wall with a loud bang. Ouch.