Warnings: Magical Summoning AU, stalking, OC (Harry's twin sister Harriet), oneshot

Pairing: TMR/HP (Tom Riddle/Harry Potter)

Summary: In which Harry tries to summon a familiar to bond with and gets Tom instead.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter series - J.K. Rowling

It's supposed to be a simple three step ritual. (Key word: supposed.)

One, get into the summoning booth.

Two, dial the three digit toll free number.

Three, wait for someone to pick up.

…Harry being Harry, messes up on step one.

"Get into the booth, Potter!"

"Wait, but I'm not—"

Shove. Slam. Oomph.

"—but I'm not a summoner…"

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft, Wizardry, and Summoning is one of the most elite magical schools in all of Europe, the reason being that last bit there tacked onto the end. 'Summoning' had originally been an art lost to time—a mysterious power only held by the ancient world—until a curious British wizard by the name of Bill Weasley discovered a stone tablet in Egypt detailing the process.

(It is now known as the Summoning Stone, preserved at the British Ministry's Department of Magical Artifacts.)

As it is only one stone tablet, added to the fact that time had worn away some of the hieroglyphs, there is a significant gap in the knowledge of summoning. Mostly it has been filled in with innovation and, surprisingly enough, Muggle artistry; so much so that the 'modern' art of summoning is barely comparable to that of the 'ancient' art.

Only those who have passed Introduction to Summoning 1A and 2A at Hogwarts are deemed able to summon. Some witches and wizards take the class not to become summoners, but to learn how to summon their own familiars—as is becoming the trend as of late.

Unfortunately, the class is terribly important for the modern version of summoning—it unlocks a wizard or witch's magical core, attuning it to the Other World, or spiritual realm as some cultures call it. Without this step, it is supposed to be impossible to summon using modern methods.

(Key word: supposed.)

Harry James Potter is the eldest son of James and Lily Potter by all of three measly seconds. His twin, Harriet Euphemia Potter, is a budding social butterfly beloved by many and a summoner-to-be to boot.

She also has extremely short hair, wears boys clothes most of the time, and has taken up the bad habit of asking her elder brother to go to her classes for her when she wants to go watch a professional Quidditch game. Harry is afraid he's spoiled her rotten (not that their parents have done anything to help that matter).

The only way of telling the Potter twins apart is through behavior—a fair bit easier than telling the Weasley twins apart, but.

"Please? Puddlemere United is playing today, and I've already got tickets!"

"I thought you liked Summoning!"

"Yeah, but I like Quidditch more! Oh, please Harry? We'll probably just take more notes like we do every day. You won't have to do a thing, just look busy and keep your head down—I'll ask Padma for notes later. Please?"

"…Fine, but you owe me one."

"I'll buy you three boxes of cauldron cakes and get you a souvenir. Swear on my wand!"

"Well, this is unfortunate," Harry mutters, scratching his head. "I hope Harriet won't be angry if I bomb her class. Then again, she should've checked and made sure they weren't doing anything important today…"

He's trapped inside the obnoxiously red summoning booth until who knows when—the dark drapes surrounding it ensure no one can see much of anything inside. Maybe they'll only let him out when he summons something? He tried to be last in line, hoping against hope that they'd run out of time for the day, but apparently they had just enough for everyone.

What's he supposed to do? Summon his familiar? Well, he isn't a summoner, and he's pretty sure Harriet would be really cross with him if he does summon anything—that'd completely blow their cover, after all, and a familiar is a very personal thing.

So Harry waits, ignoring the black telephone right in front of him. He tries to look anywhere but the black numbered keys and the metallic box, the long silver cord and the old stickers stuck on the walls.

But Potters aren't known for their apathy, and even though Harriet is the more 'Potter' between them, Harry's still got the blood and the genes of the rightful Potter heir.

"Couldn't hurt to try. I doubt anything will happen anyway…"

7-7-7.

Click, click, click.

Dial tone.

"Hello?"

"…Crap. Harriet's going to kill me."

"…Excuse me?"

"Um," Harry says, stalling for time, "Wrong number. Sorry. Bye—"

Before he can hang up the phone, the stranger stops him. "Wait."

"...Huh?"

"Are you a summoner?"

"Ah, nope…Um. Yeah, no. Well…yeah, no, I'm not. Sorry, it's a bit of a long story. Um, I'll let you get back to…whatever you were doing. Yeah, sorry, bye—"

"If you hang up now, I will personally come over there and rip out your intestines."

Harry stops, again. He isn't sure if the stranger is bluffing or not, but considering that he goes to a magic school, is currently attending a Summoning class—in lieu of his sister, sure—and has just dialed the number for summoning a familiar, he thinks it's safe to err on the side of safety.

"…Hello?"

"Hello," the stranger replies, sounding much pleasanter now that Harry isn't about to hang up. "Nice day we're having, isn't it?"

"Um, fabulous, yes. Really."

"I'm afraid I don't exactly know where you are."

"I'd like to keep it that way, to be honest with you."

"I appreciate your honesty. Would you mind looking outside and telling me what you see? You're in a summoning booth, aren't you?"

"…Do you really expect me to answer that? I'm not stupid!"

"Well it's hard to make conversation when you don't know who you're talking to. Besides, you said it was nice weather over there, and I'd like to hear what it's like."

"I guess. Okay, fine, here's what I see—nice solid shade of black in the sky, pretty dark out there. I don't think it's raining, but if it was I wouldn't be surprised because everything is black. I assume you don't want to know about the ground because you asked about the weather, but I'll tell you anyway—the grass is pretty black, if there is any grass, and I think it's a fairly unhealthy shade, unlike the sky. Which is black, in case it slipped your mind."

"Aren't you a feisty one?" The voice laughs. While pleasant, it is not a nice type of sound.

Harry shudders. What exactly has he gotten into…? "Not at all," he replies, continuing his utter disregard for his own safety despite the warning bells going off in his mind, "I'm just telling you what I see."

"Yes, yes. Summoners do have that annoying habit of putting up curtains, don't they? They think that as long as we can't see you, we can't find you…"

"Um. Wait. What?"

"Ah, not to worry. By 'we' I do mean the more general inclusion—both of us and of you. Well, excluding you. Not to worry, I wouldn't dare let anyone else find you. A demon doesn't let up on his prey, after all."

"Sorry—what?!"

The stranger laughs again. "Tell me, what number did you call?"

"7-7-7…"

"For the familiar hotline?"

"Yes…"

"Darling—" more laughter, "You have to dial one first. Didn't they teach you this in school?"

"I-I'm not a summoner!"

"Well what are you doing in a summoning booth then?"

"I—well—ugh. It's a long story, okay? And I'm going to hang up now."

"We have time."

"You might, but I don't. Oh, would you look at the time, it's about noon—oh, and was that the bell for lunch? Really, I've got to go—"

"Don't hang up," the voice orders, suddenly more serious.

Harry shudders. No way in Hell he's going to obey again!

Harry hangs up.

In the end, they are both reprimanded. His sister, for obvious reasons—ditching class, going to see a Quidditch game without a chaperone, coercing her brother into being an accomplice! Harry, because he just can't refuse her. They get a lecture from their teachers, a lecture from their parents—one each—and they're both grounded.

It could be worse.

They stay in the same room, hating solidity the most. Harriet passes him a few cauldron cakes and they nibble on them until dinner time.

Everything seems to go back to normal…until it isn't.

It happens suddenly. Harriet, because of her missed lesson, is the last of her year (among summoners, that is) to summon her familiar. She goes into the summoning booth, dials the number, and gets an adorable little ocelot for her troubles, who she immediately names Felix.

Felix comes with a plus one.

"W-Who are you?!"

"Hm…you look like him, but you're nothing like him. What do you humans call them…twins, perhaps?"

Harriet, from her spot on the ground, instantly leaps up at the mention of her brother. "What do you want with Harry?!" she shouts—perhaps not the wisest decision in the world, but she's in Gryffindor for a reason.

"…Harry?" The stranger's red eyes flash. "Hm…Harry. So that's his name. A bit…plebian, but it suits him nonetheless."

He walks off, ignoring everyone else. A student calls for a teacher because the previous one is out cold on the ground.

Harriet shudders before taking off as well. Her brother is in trouble—she has to warn him.

"…Hello. How can I help you?" Harry's voice is slow and cautious in the face of a total stranger.

Of course, said stranger isn't bothered in the least. In fact, he smiles and says, "You don't recognize me. Well, I can't blame you—you are still young. And few humans can reach across the boundary line without additional aide."

That voice. Harry recognizes it—the lilt in the superior tone, the matter-of-fact drawl of words, the—the—

"You…—!"

"I told you not to hang up, didn't I?"

"Form a contract with me."

"What kind of idiot do you take me for?! Who forms a contract with a demon?!"

"Stupid people. Desperate people. Power hungry people."

"And do I look like any of the three?!"

"But of course. The second one, actually."

The demon frowns. "You're not very good at taking orders, are you, Harry?"

"Not from a demon—and hey, how do you know my name?!"

"Oh, the person who looks like you told me."

"My sis—what did you do with Harriet?!"

"Do stop shouting, darling. It's unbecoming of my contracted." The demon pauses. "And I didn't do anything to your sister, if that's what she is. Do you take me for a barbarian? No, I am above such things. Only powerless fools resort to direct coercion to form contracts. I'm sure you will find me more than fitting for your needs."

"M-my needs?! Merlin, you're mad. I don't have any need of a demon!"

"Are you so sure about that?"

Harry sends a bombarda toward a nearby boulder. It explodes, giving him enough cover to turn tail and run back toward the castle. He leaves the demon there, half frowning half smiling in a conflicted sort of pleasure that some would consider the best kind.

"Harry! Oh thank Merlin I found you—listen, there was a—"

"Demon? Yeah. I know."

"And he was—"

"Looking for me? Yeah. I know."

"Harry, he was—"

"Really bloody scary? Yeah. I know."

They decide not to tell their mum and dad. It is, after all, safe in Hogwarts—the wards will handle any untoward things—and as long as they don't go out of bounds, it'll be fine, right?

Time passes. After an unfortunate situation in Care of Magical Creatures class, Harry finds himself in need of some new school robes, so during the next Hogsmeade weekend he sets off to fetch some.

He really, really shouldn't have.

Summoning is a very fine art. It requires thorough instruction, complete focus, and most of all, a mentor—or someone who knows exactly what not to do.

Unfortunately for Harry, his sister is the summoner, not him, so he doesn't know much of anything about it and what it needs.

Who knew not dialing one was so dangerous?

The mob of hungry demons behind him tells him he should stop thinking and just run.

"Harry, this is serious."

"Look, I know, but what can I do about it?"

Hermione still looks serious. Harriet, as the one who asked her in the first place, looks sheepish.

"You need to tell someone—like a teacher! Professor McGonagall—or wait! Professor Dumbledore would know what to do. You're close with him, aren't you? Go and ask!"

Harry shifts uncomfortably. "Well, yes, but…"

"No buts!"

"Hermione, wait. We should do some research first," Harriet interrupts. His sister is officially his favorite person ever.

"But why? Harry could be killed if we don't hesitate!"

"Eaten," he corrects. It doesn't make things better. "And I agree with my sister. Look, they obviously can't get into Hogwarts. Let's just calm down and see what we can find first—Dumbledore doesn't have a boatload of free time, and neither does McGonagall. I'd feel bad if we asked them when we could've just…I dunno, made an amulet for this or something."

Hermione frowns. "Fine…but if we're going to do this, we're going to do this seriously."

"Of course. Who do you take us for?"

In the end, Hermione keeps them perpetually trapped in the library for a week. They don't find anything.

Unfortunately, it is very, very hard to stay inside the castle at all times. While this might sound odd, considering that students aren't supposed to leave school grounds unless it's a Hogsmeade weekend, Harry isn't exactly a stickler for the rules.

The castle is wonderful. There is no shortage of places to walk or things to see. Areas beside the Black Lake are especially good for picnics.

Harry sneaks his way just outside the boundary for some peace and quiet. It isn't too far; he can hop right back under the wards' protection if need be—things have just been…overwhelming as of late, and no one who's looking for him will look this far (except maybe his sister, but she understands his need for space. They grew up together, after all).

And then a demon lunges at him from above, and there's no peace and quiet after that.

Harry dives for the boundary line. He just has to get beyond the fence, and then he's safe and nothing can eat him! But the demons seem to know, and they move right in front and block his way back.

His only choice is to run and try to circle around past somewhere else. So, Harry does.

There's only one of him compared to the dozens of demons that have materialized out of nowhere, though—some are slow, some are fast, and he can't tell when or where the next one will pop up. Luckily, Potter genes are fairly useful for running around and dodging things, so he does make it…almost.

Something grabs his leg and throws him back out.

Dark shapes loom over him, hot breath blows into his face alongside rancid breath.

They're going to eat him.

Harry shuts his eyes and prays.

"Pardon the interruption, but that's my prey."

"You know, most demons don't go around saving humans," Harry says when his familiar stranger pulls him up off the ground and begins to brush the debris off.

"Most humans don't go around questioning the things that save them from getting eaten."

Harry shrugs. The demon smiles.

"You called some bad things in that summoning booth. It was just your luck that it linked you to me instead of one of those things. I'm not fond of messy eating, you know, but not all demons have manners. You should be more careful."

"They come whenever I step outside Hogwarts' boundary," Harry mutters.

"Hmm…"

"Well, are you going to eat me now? You've been saying you want to."

The demon stares at him. "Have you ever heard of the concept of sustainability?"

"Huh?"

"Sustainability is the idea that you must conserve what limited resources you have—to not use up through excess, to extend for however long you can. You humans seem to have forgotten it, but demons are all for conserving their food source."

Harry starts to back up. He has a bad feeling about this. "What are you trying to say…?"

The demon smiles. "I'm saying, you should form a contract with me. Think of it as an exchange—Protection, my powers, in exchange for food, your soul. Yours is fairly large; you could handle the strain I'm sure."

"I don't want to become food!"

"Unfortunately for you, you don't have a choice. Either be my food or be theirs—and I'll tell you now that you won't live for very long for the latter. Uncivilized demons have the penchant for gorging themselves." The demon steps forward. "So, how about it?"

"Expulso!"

Harry gets away.

"Hmph. How rude."

Harry doesn't tell his sister or his friends about the mishap. They'd just worry about him and tell him to go ask a teacher. While he isn't…opposed to the idea, he also isn't very fond of it. Adults overreact. He's fine, isn't he?

He got away, didn't he? He can surely do it again.

The remembrance of being so close to a demon makes his body shudder—and not from cold, either. He'll just stay in Hogwarts, and everything will be…fine.

Yes, everything will be fine.

Harry doesn't go to the next several Hogsmaede weekends, nor does he sneak out. He tells Harriet to grab him everything he needs, and she does so with a frown but no question. They're twins, after all.

He helps her, she helps him. No one questions why he never goes because his sister disguises herself to be both of them.

"I've been waiting, you know."

"Gah! W-what are you doing here?! This is Hogwarts! Gryffindor tower! There are wards!"

"Ah, yes. Those. They tickled a bit, but you'll find I'm powerful enough to go where I please. How does that sound? Tempting, isn't it?"

"No, it isn't! You're on my bed!"

"I can provide you with a better living area, if you like. My pillows are softer than anything you'll find in the human realm. All you have to do is—"

"I'm not going to form a contract with you! Besides, who in their right mind would form a contract for a pillow?"

"You'd be surprised what people ask for."

"Okay, there has to be a limit to how creepy you can get. Would you stop stalking me?"

"Darling, I'm a demon. Stalking comes with the species description—we are predators, you know."

"Well, could you stalk someone else?"

"Like your sister?"

"…Never mind. I won't complain anymore."

"That's what I thought."

The demon only appears when no one else is around—thank Merlin for small mercies—so Harry adopts the trend of spending as much time as socially acceptable around crowds. He doesn't know and doesn't want to know if his sister will count as a deterrent for appearances, so he always makes sure there's someone else, too.

It's troublesome, but it's a small trouble to rid himself of his creepy demon stalker.

"I think you're under the illusion that you can stay in Hogwarts forever."

"Not forever, just long enough for you to get bored of me."

The demons breaks out into cruel, harsh laughter. It's the sort of sound that makes Harry want to turn around and run, but his gut tells him that's a bad idea. Hunters will hunt fleeing prey, after all.

"Get bored? No, no, that's not how it works. You're my food. I haven't run into such a delicious smelling thing like you in centuries. I'll be perfectly willing to wait a few years to eat. Years are like grains of sand to me—so small, so inconsequential…I could wait a lifetime for you, darling. And certainly on your deathbed, like all other humans, you'll form a contract with me out of sheer desperation."

"Go back to Hell!"

"It's a nice place. I'll take you some time."

He doesn't see the demon again until graduation. On one side of the barrier is Hogwarts, and on the other side is a swarm of hungry demons just waiting to eat him. So there he stands—dressed in his graduation robes, diploma in hand—between a hard place and a rock.

The demon comes all teeth and smiles. He floats in like morning mist on the brink of a cliff—Harry will either fly off with the current or get pulled back by his captor.

He turns around instead and grabs the demon's hand.

"I get to set the terms for the contract?"

"But of course," the demon says. Harry doesn't believe him for one second.

"Then you aren't allowed to touch me. You have to protect me from any demon that comes my way. And…you have to be my familiar."

"Deal," the demon purrs. His eyes flash an eerie red—a foreshadowing to the rivers of blood he'll spill today. "From today on, you'll be under Lord Voldemort's care."

Harry takes one look at his demon, one look at the mob waiting for him outside the barrier, and then one look back at Hogwarts. "I think I'll call you Tom instead," he says before running toward the barrier. He never said he'd make it easy for the demon.

"Cheeky brat!"

Tom follows. Then, there's red red red as demon blood splatters the ground.

"…You did what?"

"Well, I thought it was a good idea at the time!"

"Harry—" Harriet points accusingly at the familiar mark on Tom's neck, "—there's a reason why demons don't make good familiars! Their magic turns the bond of servitude into one of life partners. More than one summoner has been killed for their audacity!"

Harry splutters.

"I don't mind," Tom says, smile all white and teeth, "That just means I get to keep him for a lot longer."

"Do you even know how demons feed?"

"Uh." Harry blinks. "No?"

Tom lights up like there's another army at their doorstep to destroy. "Oh, don't worry darling. I'll show you…"

Harriet pales. She grabs her brother's hand and says, "Run!"

I really like summoning AUs in any fandom. It's fun in Harry Potter fandom because there's actually some ground for it-I mean, witches? Wizards? And they have magical pets, which are basically familiars...right? :p

This fic is pretty much done though. It's a oneshot, so please don't expect any additional installments. Thanks for all your reviews guys!

Sincerely,

R.R.