Chapter Text
So everyone knows that Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is one of the most prestigious and elite schools in the world. They have all kind of magical classes in a magical school situated in a magical location in Scotland. They had Arithmancy, Transfiguration, Potions, Charms and even Summoning.
Yes, Summoning, as in the art to call a creature or being from another location to the summoning circle. From where specifically those beings come from no one knows, but some Unspeakables in the wizarding world speculate from different times, other planets or even alternate dimensions.
Summoning ones familiar was a tradition that till a few years ago every wixen (wizard and witch) did when they finished the third year, after on whole year of intensive studies and practices. This ritual enabled a wixen to call the most compatible being from every multiverse ever created to be bonded to the wixen using the ritual.
This ritual was fairly simple. One just needed to spill 7 drops of magical blood in a pre-painted magical circle and say some words. Then in a puff of smoke the familiar should appear.
When I said till a few years ago, I specifically mean till Dumbledore became headmaster and eradicated all classes he considered dark, Summoning included. Many classrooms were abandoned with materials collecting dust through time. Even the house elves working at Hogwarts couldn’t clean every room in the castle. With so many that appeared and disappeared.
From time to time students would enter such abandoned classrooms but where not curious enough to look through the material present in there.
We, avid readers of all Harry Potter books, know of one specific student with peculiar luck, green eyes, untameable hair and the most famous lightning bolt scar ever. Yes, I mean
Harry Potter.
Harry Potter was a very curious individual indeed. Through the sacrifice of his mother he survived the killing curse defeating the most powerful Dark Lord (with capitals) in history named Voldemort. He had fame like no other in the wizarding world. Living with abusive relatives at first and then under the constant threat of Voldemort, his curiosity new no bounds, which threw his life into an eternal roller-coaster of strange happening.
The following was one such happening.
Harry stumbled down a flight of moving stairs entering a corridor similar to one he saw in his first year but with different paintings. The corridor was fairly short, just 3 doors on the right and 2 doors on the left side. Now his curiosity got the better of him.
He had never seen this corridor before and he didn’t know where exactly in the castle he was. Opening the first door on his left, he saw the usual abandoned classroom with books and class-decorations and furnitures. The first door to his right was similar. Then the second door to his left was empty. Completely empty. No chairs, no tables. Just the ceiling with a lamp and the walls with some torches. On the ground he saw chalk and an eraser. For what could the chalk be? What had the painted?
Entering that room, he saw a circles with strange symbols outside of it and a pentagram in the middle. A thin book, that he couldn’t see from the door, laid on the dusty floor to the right of the circle. On top of it a very ornamented knife with flowers and animals engraved into the handle and blade. The torches slowly flamed on with a silent whoosh. The on the front wall, written in what seemed like blood, Harry could read a prayer or incanation of some sorts:
“Lady Magic, creator of our world, supreme goddess of truth, I ask of thee a favour in exchange of these 7 drops of blood. I ask for a companion, a familiar, a being similar to myself in magic to stand and fight by my side in the future for eternity”
Now Harry Potter was in his forth year, entered in the Tri-Wizard Tournament without his consent, abandoned by his friends, week before the first task. Yes, even the intelligent Hermione Granger had left him in favour of Ronald Weasley, not believing him that he didn’t want to compete in the tournament.
He didn’t feel strong or intelligent enough to participate. His fear mounted the nearer the first task got. He was just a third year! How could he have even get past the age limit erected by the one and only Albus Dumbledore? Nothing made sense to him, but he was desperate to get his hands on anything that let him survive the deadly tasks. Having already razed the whole Hogwarts library a la style Hermione. Every book he could find on the tournament and its task, he read. At the end of the week his head seemed to explode of all that information. He looked up spells, charms, potions and everything that would be able to let him survive. But looking at those verses at the wall, this seemed a much more secure option. With a companion at his side he would have more help and options to pass the tasks. Looking back around the corridor and not seeing anyone, he took the knife, ignored the book and sliced his finger for the blood the ritual seemed to need. It was just like in one of those animated shows Dudley seemed to like. With all that sacrifice and blood. He only had the incantation on the wall and the information it within. So he read it out loud: “Lady Magic, creator of our world, supreme goddess of truth, I ask of thee a favour in exchange of these 7 drops of blood. I ask for a companion, a familiar, a being similar to myself in magic to stand and fight by my side in the future for eternity.” All while squeezing 7 drops of blood into the middle of the pentagram.
At first a rumble, then a big puff of smoke.