A/N: So this will be updated very, very slowly, because each chapter will be in relatively large chunks. One chapter for each major part of the story. We're looking at about twenty chapters and well over 100,000 words, thereabouts. I think this is going to be the shortest chapter, because I know for a fact that the next one is pushing 10,000. So updates will be slow, but chapters will be long. Really very long.

In this story you will be faced with the various shenanigans of a bored, slightly psychotic archangel and a young, aspiring wizard when they are unleashed upon an unsuspecting, magical world. There will be absurdity and there will be utterly ridiculous hilarity. But, importantly, there will be an nice, giant angst-fest slapped somewhere in there.

On with the show!

Arc One: The Formative Years

"What are you doing here?"

"Can a father not visit his son?"

"I'd rather you didn't."

"Lucifer, please."

"What do you want?"

"I want my son to be happy."

"Take a look around you, Dad. Not a lot to be happy about."

"The Mark."

"That thing you stamped on my arm? Yeah, I remember, still got that."

"It can't twist you like it did Cain, Lucifer."

"It hasn't twisted me at all. This is one hundred percent me."

"I always was the only person you would try to lie to, and I always was the only person capable of seeing through it."

"Go away."

"Not this time."

"Then why are you here?!"

"I'm here because I know that my son is still in there, and he is hurting."

"Gee, maybe being kicked out of Heaven by my own brother did that. Who the hell knows."

"I'm giving you a second chance, Lucifer."

"I- What?"

"Find a vessel that both needs and wants your help. Do not mislead them; be kind; be a friend; speak with them and maybe you will be surprised at the potential in these humans."

"You'd let me out, knowing what's prophesised?"

"Many things are prophesised, my son. I believe that you can forge your own destiny. Will you do it?"

"I'll burn it to the ground."

"No you won't. I'll put you back here myself if you try."

"...Fine."

Things could be worse, Lucifer thinks. He's out of the Cage for starters. Sure, he's on the other side of the Milky Way to Earth and his wings are in tatters and he's still sore from uncountable years in Hell, but he's out of the Cage.

All he has to do now is figure out how to stay out. His Father said he had to take a vessel who needed him and become their friend. Well. Lucifer isn't sure how friendly he can get with an ape.

The Mark burns uncomfortably, and Lucifer curls in on himself, hating the thing with every fibre of his being.

He was not twisted.

He was cast out for his choices, and his choices alone.

The Mark did not corrupt him.

He is better than Cain.

He would not kill his brother.

He is better than Cain.

The Mark did not corrupt him.

Repeating the thought again and again, Lucifer blocks his connection to the Heavenly Host. He doesn't need to hear what they have to say. Not like they listened to him when he tried defending his actions.

Slowly, painfully, Lucifer flies towards Earth.

His true vessel, Samuel Winchester, is doing well enough with his brother and father. He might not be happy, but Lucifer can see that he isn't in need of an archangel, and given his family's superstitious nature, he probably wouldn't be wanted. So, with some irritation, Lucifer goes in search of other vessels directly descended from Cain, Abel or Seth's bloodlines.

After hours and hours of painful flight around the planet, invisible to this dimension lest he accidentally burn out the eyes of billions of humans with his true form (and wouldn't that be such a pity?), Lucifer finds someone suitable.

He's a small boy descended from Seth, no more than five years of age. Black hair and striking green eyes, with a curious little core of what looks like natural magic inside. Yet, despite this, the boy is incredibly alone. He lives with his aunt and uncle and cousin, all of whom are dreadful to him.

Yes. Lucifer decides that this boy will be his vessel.

He's got to say yes first, idiot.

A quick look at the boy's soul tells him about his entire life, but most importantly his name: Harry James Potter.

Harry doesn't have many nice dreams. The few dreams he does have, when he isn't too exhausted after a days worth of chores to even form dreams, are often filled with the screams of a woman long forgotten and flashes of green light. Harry very rarely has nice dreams.

So when he opens his eyes to a meadow full of tall grass and wildflowers, swaying slightly in a gentle breeze, he grins widely and laughs. He runs through the meadow, knowing he's never been anywhere like this and he'll probably never go anywhere like this in his entire life. He doesn't know where the dream has come from, but he'll make the most of it.

Harry runs through the meadow as fast as he can, feeling almost like he can fly, never needing to stop to catch his breath. He laughs, happier than he can remember ever being.

The meadow stretches on as far as Harry can see; rolling hills in every direction, all covered in greens and yellows and purples and whites. But in the distance, Harry can see a tree on top of a hill. Curious, Harry decides to go there. A blink later, and he's standing in the shade beneath it, craning his neck to peer into the branches.

Apples, he sees. Gleaming red apples grow on the tree, and Harry is almost tempted to climb up and pick one.

"Why don't you?"

Harry jumps in surprise at the voice, turning to see a boy around his age standing a short distance away.

"Why don't I what?" Harry asks warily.

"Climb up and pick one," the boy elaborates.

Harry looks the boy over: hazel eyes; long, floppy brown hair; tanned skin; crumpled t-shirt and jeans. No one Harry remembers ever meeting. "It's dangerous."

Harry blinks, and the boy is gone.

"Says who?"

No, not gone. Harry looks up into the branches to see the boy sitting quite high up, apple in his hand, legs swinging back and forth.

"Who are you?" Harry asks, knowing he definitely hasn't met this boy before.

"This body is called Sam."

Harry frowns at the weird answer. "How'd you get up there?"

Sam grins. "I flew, obviously."

"Because this is a dream?"

"Because I'm an angel."

"You don't have wings or a halo and I've never heard of an Angel Sam."

Harry blinks again, and Sam is beside him, biting into the apple.

The boy shrugs. "Close your eyes, Harry."

"Why?"

"Trust me."

Harry does, and a second later there is a painfully bright light that makes him bring his arms to shield his face. A moment later, it's gone.

"Okay, you can look now."

Harry opens his eyes to the most amazing thing he's ever seen. Six wings, whiter than snow and emanating their own soft glow, stretch out impossibly wide in each direction. The larger ones are on the outside, getting smaller as they go in, but even the smallest pair are huge.

"As for a halo, I don't have one. And my name is something different, but..." The angel shrugs, looking uncomfortable. "You can call me Sam. I... I used to be called Samael."

Harry nods, still looking at Sam's wings. "Can I touch them?"

Sam frowns, and for an awful second Harry wonders if he's upset the angel. Then he nods, sitting down beneath the apple tree and allowing Harry to get closer.

Harry reaches out to the glowing feathers, but stops before he touches them, frowning.

"What is it?" Sam asks.

"This is a dream."

"And?"

"You're not real," Harry says quietly, looking down. He'd been so excited at the idea of angels and wings that he forgot just where he was.

"Just because this is a dream doesn't mean I'm not real. I'm talking to you through a dream, because I need your help, Harry, and I want to help you."

Harry looks at Sam, confused. "How could I help you? Help me with what?"

"I'm injured, Harry. The wings you're seeing are mine, yeah, but not as they are now. This is what they used to look like. Now..." Sam looks away, and Harry watches in horror as feathers turn a charred black at the tips, becoming crooked, and as the very shape of the wings becomes angular and twisted. He takes a step back, but the sadness on Sam's face makes him stop. "This is what they're like now. It's painful, and I want to be able to fly properly again. I won't lie to you, Harry; I've been told I have to help someone who needs help, or I'll be put back in the place that did this to me."

Harry swallows, afraid for the angel. "What can I do?"

"I don't really look like this. In reality, I'm bigger than the planet. That's dangerous for humans, so I need a body. This one is in America with his family, and he doesn't need me. You need me, I've seen it."

Harry looks away.

"You're alone, you hurting, you're unhealthy for your age. I can make you better."

"How?"

"I need a body, Harry. I need a body to get better."

"Y-You mean like in the films?" Harry stutters, feeling terror well up inside him. "Where there's a monster in another person and they do bad stuff?"

"I won't make you do anything you don't want to do. I'll always talk to you when you need a friend, and I'll keep you healthy. I'll be your friend."

"No doing bad things?"

"No bad things, Harry."

Harry thinks it over, but eventually nods. "Okay. Only if you're good."

Sam grins. "I'll be very good."

The first month was incredible. Harry and Sam would talk at every opportunity, but never out loud. Sam told him that people didn't like it when other people spoke to someone they couldn't see, and they sometimes got sent to bad places where they were locked up, so Harry made sure to keep their conversations to his head and only his head. It took some practice, but eventually he stopped slipping up whenever Sam made a comment.

Sam was funny. He was funny in that strange way that adults are, like when they say something and mean the complete opposite but manage to say what they mean just by changing their voice. Sarc-something.

"Sarcasm, Harry," Sam informs him.

That's another thing Sam is great for: teaching. He'd been angry when he learnt that the Dursley's shouted at him for getting good grades, and he told Harry that he shouldn't listen to what his aunt and uncle tell him to do.

By the end of the month, Harry is at the top of his class and there isn't anything Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon can do about it without getting in trouble, Sam says.

Dudley doesn't bully him anymore. Not after Harry surprised himself and even Sam when he suddenly appeared on the roof of the school building when his cousin and his gang were playing Catch Harry. Sam had made double sure that Dudley left Harry alone by giving Harry the strength to shove Dudley a good few feet away one time when he'd been about to get punched. His aunt and uncle shouted and screamed and raged, and harry hadn't eaten for a week after that, but Sam made sure that he didn't ever get hungry.

It's been a fantastic month.

Harry closes his eyes, smiling happily as he tries to fall asleep.

"Sam?"

"Yeah?"

"...Thank you."

"For what?"

"Being my friend."

This shouldn't be happening. Lucifer shouldn't be getting attached to this child. But the naivety, the innocence, the vulnerability... The first time Lucifer actually witnessed through Harry's own eyes when his cousin tried to beat him, Lucifer had been so furious that his Grace had lashed out.

He'd taken over unintentionally and shoved Dudley away with enough force to slam him into the far wall, effectively cracking his head open. The fat oaf of a boy would have died then and there if Lucifer's fear of being sent back to Hell hadn't made him heal the boy and alter both Dudley and Harry's memories so that it would only seem as though he had shoved his cousin away.

Lucifer did, however, make sure to mentally compel Dudley to never bother his cousin ever again, leaving a lingering feeling of fear that would rise every time the boy even considers it.

Hearing Harry thank him for being... for being his friend made the ice of his Grace thaw out ever so slightly.

It isn't until later, while Lucifer is doing his nightly guard of Harry's dreams (he's curious about that recurring nightmare, but has decided not to pry in case it damages Harry's growing mind) Lucifer realises that the Mark has been burning a lot less in this past month.

Sam taught Harry how to block him out of his mind, if he ever wants privacy. It's good in school, because while it's great talking to Sam and hearing him teach the lessons, Harry doesn't want to get in trouble with the teacher for not paying attention. So, in Religious Studies especially (because Sam never seems to be able to stop himself from making a sarcastic comment that makes Harry have to choke back a giggle), Harry puts up the mind block after saying goodbye to Sam.

"And what was Jesus's most important teaching?"

"Love thy neighbour," the class chants.

Mrs O'Hanlon smiles. "Correct. Now, does anyone have any questions?"

Sarah McCarthy throws her hand up.

"Yes, Sarah?"

"My sister told me that the Devil was an angel. But angels have wings and the devil has horns, so that doesn't make sense."

Mrs O'Hanlon nods patiently. "It's true that the Devil was an angel called Lucifer. He was God's favourite, but he rebelled-"

"What's that mean?"

"It means he misbehaved, and so God told Lucifer's brother, Michael, to throw him into Hell. Michael did, and the Devil was locked away for good."

"Who's Michael?" David Turner asks.

Harry knows who Michael is. Sam sometimes spoke about the archangel, but he was always either sad or angry about it.

"Michael is an archangel - that's one of the strongest of the angels," Mrs O'Hanlon says.

"I want to be an archangel because then I get wings!" Alisha Myers exclaims.

Soon the whole class is filled with shouts of angels and wings, and Harry just sits quietly, feeling happy and more than a little smug at the fact that he has an angel as a best friend.

"Sam?" Harry asks, lying in his bed and staring at the ceiling. As soon as Sam realised that he'd been sleeping in the cupboard under the stairs, he'd... done something, and the day after Harry was moved into Dudley's second bedroom.

"Yeah?"

"Today in RS we talked about your brother."

"Which one?"

"Michael. And we learnt some stuff about the Devil. Nothing like what you've told me, but everyone really seems to think the Devil has horns and a pointy tail."

"Did you learn about the Devil's name?"

"Lucifer?"

Sam pauses. "Yes. Lucifer."

"Was he really thrown out by his brother just because he misbehaved?"

"Lucifer... Lucifer did some things that... weren't very nice. He was angry, and he lashed out. Michael threw him out of Heaven, and Lucifer was locked in Hell for a long, long time."

"Is he still there?"

"...No. He's been given a second chance."

"To do better?"

"Yeah, Harry. A chance to do better."

Harry nods, closing his eyes and rolling over, eventually finding sleep.

Sam hates Sunday School. He's always the first one to put up the mental block as soon as Harry steps into Church with the Dursleys, but Harry doesn't mind. He doubts he'd be able to concentrate with Sam correcting everything that's said, or complaining about something that the Bible got wrong.

"Today we're going to talk about the angels," Chaplain Fitzgerald says, smiling.

Harry doesn't like Sunday School much more than Sam does. He knows all this already, and he knows the real versions of the story. Not these watered down tales, where it's only implied that a bunch of people died but it's all okay because it's for the greater good or something like that.

Chaplain Fitzgerald hands them all small blackboards and sticks of chalk. "To start, I want you to write down the names of all the angels you know, and we'll talk about their roles after."

Harry looks at his blackboard. He doesn't know if the names of all the angels he's heard of will fit on this small piece of slate. But, looking around, he sees that the others have already started, so Harry makes a start.

Samael

Michael

Gabriel

Raphael

Joshua

Metatron

Zachariah

Uriel

Anael

Ezekiel

Balthazar

"Okay, let's see how you've done!" The Chaplain collects the blackboards in. "I see that Gabriel is the most known angel here. Can anyone tell me why exactly he's so famous?"

A black girl with corn rolls raises her hand immediately.

"Yes, Melissa?"

"He told Mary that she was having a baby Jesus!"

"That's right, Archangel Gabriel visited Mary and told her that she was pregnant with the son of God, and...?"

"And she was supposed to call him Jesus!"

"Emmanuel, Tom. Who else...? Wh- Harry?" Chaplain Fitzgerald frowns at his blackboard. "Where did you hear this first name?"

Dudley, sitting as far away from him as he possibly could, smirks over at him. Harry knows he's done something wrong, but he doesn't know what.

"Which name?"

"Samael."

"O-Oh..." Harry frowns, wondering what he should say. "I heard someone say it in school."

"Do you know which angel this is, Harry?" When he doesn't answer, Chaplain Fitzgerald looks around at the others. "Does anyone here know?"

No one answers. Harry meets Dudley's eyes, and he knows that his aunt and uncle are going to hear about his slip up.

"Samael was one of the names of the Archangel Lucifer, before he became the Devil."

Harry's world crashes down.

Lucifer taught Harry to put in place the mental barrier because he understands that the boy might want time to his own thoughts. He doesn't know why, exactly, he's so bothered about the boy's needs (he tells himself that it's because he needs Harry to trust him, and that's all) but at least this way Lucifer can spend some time alone without the thoughts of a five year old flitting about all the time.

It also means that Lucifer doesn't have to put up with the drivel they teach the boy in school and in church, because really, how wrong did they get the stories? Oh, he can still see and hear everything that goes on through Harry's eyes and ears, but it's easier to tune them out.

So, after a good few hours of being kept out of the boy's thoughts, when the mental barrier is all but ripped down and Lucifer is jerked back to reality to see that he's in Harry's room, the five year olds feeling and thoughts of utter betrayal tell Lucifer that he's been found out.

"Oh, shit."

He can feel Harry's tears leaking from his eyes.

"You lied to me. You lied, you lied, you lied!"

"Harry-"

"Did you lie about being my friend, too?"

It stings, the accusation. More than it should. "No-"

"You tricked me! I thought you were an angel!"

"I am, Harry, please-"

"You're the Devil! Sam isn't even your name!" Harry is biting his lip, and Lucifer knows it's to keep the boy from screaming his hurts out loud.

"Harry." His Grace lashes out, and he knows he's terrified the boy into silence. Okay, not how he intended to do it, but at least Harry isn't mentally screaming at him anymore. Lucifer still doesn't appreciate the boys feelings of betrayal, hurt and anger. "I never lied to you. Samael is one of my names. It was my first name, but I made some mistakes."

"You're evil!"

That hits much closer to home than Lucifer will ever admit. He's getting desperate now, knowing that he might blow his chance at ever proving his Father wrong; proving that the Mark does not rule him. "You remember what I told you? About my second chance?"

Harry sniffles and refuses to answer, but Lucifer can sense the memory in Harry's mind.

"This is my chance to do better. This is my chance to-" Lucifer stops, the words difficult to get out. "To do good. To be forgiven."

The tears have stopped flowing, and Lucifer is hopeful that maybe Harry will actually listen.

But then the mental barrier is thrown up, and Lucifer is left staring at Harry's room through tear blurred eyes, hearing Harry's soft hiccups, and with no insight as to what the boy is actually thinking.

Lucifer is left lost.

Harry is angry. Angrier than he ever remembers being. But, more than that, he's hurt. So, so hurt that Sam - Sam? - didn't tell him the truth, and tricked him into- into letting the Devil inside him, and then let him believe they were friends!

Harry squeezes his eyes shut, curling up as tight as he can against the wall. What's he going to do? What can he do? Is he going to go to Hell because he let the Devil trick him?

He let's out a small whimper of fear, then bites his lip harder. He can't be heard. Not by Uncle Vernon, not by Aunt Petunia, not by Dudley, and especially not by S- Lucifer.

It's some time before Harry falls asleep.

He's in the meadow again. Harry doesn't run for joy like he did the last time. He simply stares at the angel in front of him.

"Harry."

Harry drops his gaze, staring at the flowers that seem a lot less brighter than he remembers.

"I can't leave you without hurting a lot of people."

He can feel tears stinging his eyes, his throat growing tight.

"I'm... I'm sorry."

Harry sniffs, rubbing at his eyes.

"I still want to help you."

"Am I going to go to Hell?"

Sam- Lucifer looks surprised. "What? No, of course not."

"But I- I helped you."

"You're not going to go to Hell for helping me, Harry. Even if I am the Devil."

Harry looks away again. "Did you lie about being my friend?"

A hand rests on his shoulder, and Harry looks up at the angel. "I don't lie, Harry. I never lie."

As years pass, Harry doesn't try to kick Lucifer out. He accepts that the Devil is quite at home inside him, and he decides that it's only fair to give him a chance. But Harry doesn't ever make the mistake of trusting him like he once did. No blind devotion, no awing over the angel in the back of his mind.

Five years later, and Harry likes to think he's still friends with the Devil - he is even a good friend. They talk, they laugh and joke. Lucifer teaches him whatever he wants to know, and for that Harry is at the top of his class.

But he never, ever calls Lucifer Sam. He is careful about it, and sometimes he thinks he might slip up but he always catches himself before he makes that mistake.

Petunia and Vernon make their dislike of him well known, but Harry keeps his distance. He thinks Lucifer did something to them - he doesn't know what, exactly - that makes them afraid of him. Still, though, their fear keeps both them and Dudley away.

It's Dudley's birthday. Harry lies awake in bed, knowing that any minute now, Petunia will rap on his door with bony knuckles and demand he gets up. Mrs Figg can't take him for the day, so he's going to have to suffer through going to the zoo with the Dursleys. Should be interesting.

"Yeah, if a bunch of animals locked in cages are what you're into."

"Just because you've seen it all before, don't ruin it for everyone else."

"Now why would I ever dream of ruining dear little Dudley's day?"

As expected, three rapid knocks on the door and a shrill voice sound. "Get up. Now. Up."

With a sigh, Harry drags himself out of bed.

Seconds later, heavy footfalls thud down the hall, and someone thumps loudly on his door. "Wake up, Potter! We're going to the zoo!" Dudley yells, then laughs obnoxiously and runs downstairs.

"Remind me why I didn't just call child services?"

"Maybe you're a masochist."

"To keep you around, I must be."

Despite Lucifer's near constant complaints - something which Harry is well used to by now - the zoo is actually interesting. It would actually make for a fun day if he wasn't stuck with the Dursley's.

"I could just smite them."

"Shush."

"But-"

"Shush! We're by the snakes." Harry likes snakes. There's just something about them that appeals to him.

He can practically feel Lucifer's eye roll, but Harry is accustomed to ignoring the archangel by now. Something to which Lucifer takes no small amount of offence.

He trails behind the Dursley's, craning his neck to try and see around Vernon's huge frame. He immediately goes over to the nearest tank, peering in at the huge python.

Dudley stands next to him, frowning down at the snake. "Make it move."

Vernon taps the glass. "Move."

"Move!" Dudley yells. The snake doesn't budge an inch. "Ugh, you're boring."

The Dursley's move on, but Harry stays by the python.

"Sorry about him. He doesn't understand," Harry says, getting the feeling that the snake is actually quite intelligent. He can feel Lucifer's amusement at the back of his mind. But he ignores the archangel in favour of the snake that has just lifted its head to look straight at him. Harry's eyes widen. "Can you understand me?"

The python bobs it's head in affirmation.

"Sorry, it's just, I've never talked to a snake before," he breathes, fascinated. Is this something because of Lucifer? No, can't be. Harry can feel the archangel's intrigue at the situation. Deciding that he might as well make the must of this opportunity, he asks, "Do you miss your family?"

The snake looks pointedly at a sign.

Bred in captivity.

"Oh," Harry says, frowning. "I never knew my family either."

"This is cute, really, but can we discuss the fact that you're talking to a snake, please?"

"Mum, look! You wouldn't believe what this snake is doing!" Dudley exclaims, roughly shoving Harry out of the way.

Harry stumbles and glares at his cousin. If it weren't for Lucifer's strength, he'd be on the floor no doubt.

Dudley climbs up the railing and presses his grubby palms against the window, staring at the snake with wide eyes. Oh, how Harry wishes the glass would just-

Dudley falls into the enclosure.

-disappear.

Well then.

Lucifer observes the little ball of magic carefully. He doesn't touch it - it's attached to Harry's soul, who knows what the repercussions could be - but he examines it as closely as he dares.

Talking to snakes. What's the name of that language? P... Parcel... Parseltongue! Right. Huh. So little Harry is a wizard.

He knew about the magic when he first found Harry, of course, but he assumed something would have been done about it by now. Of course, there's been the odd burst of accidental magic (Harry didn't end up in a roof one day by his accord, so there had to be some reasonable explanation) but shouldn't someone be monitoring this?

Wait, what is that?

Lucifer looks at the magical core from a different angle. Sure enough, wedged between the core and Harry's soul is a dark, writhing... Something. Lucifer can't get a good enough look at it, but it unsettles him.

It isn't healthy.

Lucifer decides to keep a close eye on it.

Harry grabbed by his hair the second he steps through the door.

"What did you do?" Vernon demands, shaking him.

Harry winces. "Nothing!"

"Don't lie to me, boy!"

"Harry, he has three seconds to let go before I do something."

"Nothing! One minute the glass was there and then it was gone!"

"One."

"It was like magic!"

Vernon shakes him again, practically vibrating with rage. He's dragged over to the cupboard under the stairs.

"Two."

Vernon tosses him inside like a ragdoll, slamming the door shut behind him. Harry grasps his sore head, curling up on the small, dusty cot that he's long since outgrown.

"There is no such thing as magic!" Vernon hisses, shutting the grate and leaving Harry in darkness.

Harry lets out a gasp, tears stinging his eyes as he tries to control his breathing. He will not cry. He will not.

"...Harry?"

He bites down on his lip, hating this cupboard with every fibre of his being. Stupid, stupid - what the hell happened at the zoo?

"Harry, you need to hear what I have to say."

Harry pushes himself up, pulling off his glasses and wiping his eyes. He doesn't really need them that much anymore; over the years, Lucifer has been steadily fixing his sight. It's a slow process, the archangel says, because the eye is such a delicate thing. Lucifer has switched the lenses for weaker ones more suited to his eyes. He really only needs them for long distance now, but he wears them all the time to avoid people asking questions.

"What is it?"

"I won't beat around the bush; you're a wizard."

"Sorry, a what?"

"A wizard. Wand waving, hat wearing wizard."

"I... What?"

"That time you ended up on the roof? I didn't fly you up there, Harry. You did that. Talking to the snake? Also you. The glass disappearing? You, and I really must congratulate you for that one because it was a sight to behold."

"Magic. You're talking about magic."

"That I am."

Harry is silent for a while, staring into the darkness. "I'm crazy. You're not really there at all. I'm crazy, you're just a voice in my head, and magic isn't real."

It's at that moment that Lucifer takes partial control of Harry's limbs and compels him to slap himself in the face.

"Don't say I'm not real, you brat, I'm right here."

Harry rubs the sore spot on his cheek. "Yeah. Okay. But come on - me? Magic?"

"Yeah, imagine that. The kid with Satan in his head having something else strange about him? I'm shocked!"

"Shut up."

"Believe me now?"

"Maybe. I don't know. It's not something you hear every day."

"Neither is my incredible voice, but I guess you're just an exception."

"Lucky me."

A week later, the letters arrive. It's the only thing Harry's ever had that's been addressed to him, so both he and Lucifer are intrigued. He takes it straight upstairs to his room (having only been allowed to return there the previous might) and opens it.

'Dear Mr Harry Potter...'

Just when Harry thought his life couldn't get any stranger.

A/N: So, yeah, that's the first arc all in one. Arc Two is the longest, because it spans Harry's time at Hogwarts. It will be divided into seven parts - one for each school year - with interludes between for the summer holidays.

The dialogue will be different from films and books in some places, due to Harry being influenced by Lucifer as he's grown, but it will follow the same lines. Mostly. And certain things will be altered. Some a lot, others not so much.

OH! Before I forget, to save confusion in later chapters, italics is mental conversation (you've probably figured that one out by now) but BOLD is God, or the true voice of an angel. You'll get what I mean in Arc Two.