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Standing on a black wooden stage in the center of the Hogwarts quidditch pitch while surrounded by hundreds of cheering spectators was exactly where Tom Riddle had wanted to find himself. Seven hard years of networking and academic excellence had brought him here. In a stadium with six other contestants ready to show off his skills for the world to see. Well, really just the international community of summoners, which were the only people in the world who really mattered to Tom. Muggles could all burn for all he cared.

For today though he was here to impress them. To compete against six other aspiring summoners in hope of performing well enough for advancement in a summoner’s coven. Tom, an apprentice of the Hogwarts Coven, was competing against several other apprentices, a journeyman, and one wet behind the ears novice for the title of champion of the Grand International Summoner’s Competition. He planned to win it all.

The Hogwarts Coven of the British Isles, the Beauxbatons Coven of France, the Durmstrang Coven of Northern Europe, the Mahoutokoro Coven of Japan, the Uagadou Coven of Central Africa, the Castelobruxo Coven of Brazil, and the Salem Coven of America: all proud schools who were each presenting a student to compete this year. The International High Coven of Summoners had even sent a Grandmaster to join the judges. It was well known that the High Coven used the competition to scout out new talent to invite for further study. Tom intended to be the first apprentice to win the tournament in over a century.

He knew he could. He was the apple of Master Dippets eye, and the Head of the Hogwarts Coven had personally selected Tom to be the competitor this year. Exactly as Tom had planned.

Now he stood on one of seven stages before a roaring crowd. His fellow competitors were each on a stage of their own preparing to summon the strongest demon they thought they could handle. Every single one of them had already sworn a summoner’s oath that the demon they were summoning today was one they had never knowingly interacted with before. The point of the competition was to show off their skills in summoning, but also how well they could plan and execute brokering a pact with an unfamiliar demon.

There would be no lesser, middle, or higher common demons here. Such summons were to low class to impress anyone. Most contestants summoned low or middle greater demons. Every few decades someone amazed the judges by managing to successfully pull a high greater demon. Roughly half the contestants who tried that failed to properly pact with them and died though. Which was better odds than the few fools who had tried for lower or higher grand demons. Normally only well trained Master summoners even tried for those.

Every competitor had to sign a waiver if they wanted to compete for a reason.

Tom planned to show them all up. Sure he could do a lesser grand demon and blow them all away. He’d managed to summon one before in secret. It had been done before though, and Tom didn’t like following in anyone’s footsteps. Rarely successfully completed, the last successful summon of such a high class demon by a competitor was nearly five centuries ago, but it had been done.

No one had ever summoned a Prime demon in the Grand International Summoner’s Competition before. A successful summoning of one of the twelve ruling demons was a required task to earn a Grandmastership. Today Tom planned to summon one before the awaiting crowd and in doing so insure his name would go down in legend much like Merlin or Morgana.

“When this gong is rung the competition shall begin. Contestants will have the next three hours to inscribe their summoning circles and pact with their summons if successful.” The condescending tones of Master Dumbledore rang over the crowd. As the Hogwarts Coven’s second in command the old coot had been selected to be the announcer since Hogwarts was hosting the competition this year. “Any summoner who fails to either summon a demon, or fails to pact with their summon will be automatically disqualified. A reminder to all of you: it is better to summon a lower ranking demon and survive then flub a summons and die for it. May Lady Luck watch over you all.” Dumbledore finished up.

Tom barley stopped himself from snorting. Trust that old coot to chide them all about the inherent dangers to demon summoning as if all seven contestants hadn’t already signed a liability waiver.

Grandmaster Grindelwald strode forward to address the crowd next. As the High Coven’s representative he had every right to be there, and to speak. Still the pinched look on Dumbledore’s face showed how little he enjoyed having his rival grandstand him at an event.

Grindelwald, as bright and charismatic in person as he was oft rumored to be, nodded respectfully to the crowd. “As the International High Coven’s chosen judge this year it is of course a huge honour to stand before you all. I simply wish to assure the crowd that the stadium is successfully shielded. None of the demons summoned will be able to leave the stage it was summoned on without me personally dropping the outer warding. The warding is designed to hold even grand demons, so even in the event of failed summoning you will all be safe. On my honour as a Grandmaster your safety is our greatest concern!”

He was met with excited cheering. Likely from people who attended the clusterfuck that was last years Grand International Summoner’s Competition where a rogue demon had managed to kill half the contestants and two audience members before being banished.

“I would also like to remind you of two other things.” Grindelwald continued. “First, a privacy shield will obscure each stage until the time limit is complete. This is both to offer the contestants privacy to summon undisturbed, and to keep any magical backlash from failed summonings from harming anyone. Second, each contestant will be judged on several things. Complexity of their summoning circles, strength of their safety wards, rank of the demon summoned, and strength of the pact made with the demon. Of course each contestants score will displayed on the scoreboard when the judging begins. You have until the privacy shields drop to place any bets.”

The gong rang out just then, and Tom leapt into action. A velvet black bubble formed over his stage as he turned to the chalk supplied. He knew similar bubbles were enclosing the other six contestants, but Tom didn’t waste any though for them. Prime demons took thirteen more summoning circles then higher grand demons, and he only had three hours to get them all inscribed.

Most contestants in the Grand International Summoner’s Competition would pick a suitably challenging demon and memorise the circles necessary to summon it. They would read up on it and bring an offering tailor made for the demon they were summoning to maximise their chances of completing a successful pact. That approach had it’s good points, but it also meant any well read member of the judges panel could generally guess what you were aiming to summon. Judges who figured out what demon a contestant was summoning before it was presented tended to score lower, and Tom couldn’t afford to lose any points. He already had too many disadvantages. He was the second youngest contestant, and had only been promoted to apprentice last year. While Tom was certain he was both the most powerful and the most intelligent contestant in the ring, he couldn’t be certain of victory. Not when several of the contestants this year were journeymen.

Because of that, Tom was trying something dangerous. Something even Grandmasters were hesitant to do without proper support. He was going to leave the naming rune for the Prime demon blank, and let whichever one found his call most interesting answer. That meant giving up control over who he was summoning, and not being able to plan an offering in advance. However, it also meant whichever demon answered him would be arriving willingly and in a much better mood then the forcibly summoned.

Tom would still have to talk fast, but he’d always considered himself good at that.

Something stirred in the Otherworld. In a realm so deep and rarely disturbed that all twelve of the realms residents noted it right away. The disturbance tasted of dark masculine power, and the dry brush of a serpent's scales. It beckoned, and the whole realm paused to listen.

Twelve inhuman pairs of glowing eyes lit with interest. Eleven beings settled onto gilded thrones, and turned as one to the last pair, which glowed brightest of all. That being settled on an altar of bone in the center of the realm, and spoke.

“Hmmm.” The shadowed figure atop the altar stretched across its polished surface. “How long has it been since one called out to us all, rather than demanding one of us by name?” The figures voice was as soft as feathers on the wind, but the very realm seemed to fall still as they spoke.

One of the enthroned beings answered. “Nearly a milenia, my King.” She had bronze eyes, and wore a crown of raven feathers upon her brow. The mortals called her the Prime Lady of forbidden knowledge now, although once she had been named Hermione.

“How delightful.” The Demon King laughed from his seat upon the altar, and every realm in the Otherworld shivered at the sound. It had been a very long time since the King of all Demons and Master of Death had found anything worth his notice. Since before the Otherworld had split from the mortal realms perhaps, or longer still. Certainly more than living memory of any human.

Silver eyes narrowed to slits as the Prime Lord of greed and envy spoke up. “This one tastes of prior dealings with Lucius and Abraxas. Perhaps I should be the one to answer.”

“You’ve already stepped into the mortal realm three times this century, Draco. Perhaps someone else should go.” Sapphire blue flared in response to the next demon’s temper. Then again Ronald, Prime Lord of rage and ruin, was not one to quell his temper.

A sigh escaped the King upon his altar, and the others all froze at it.

“This one is mine.” The Master of Death announced, as he stepped down from his altar of bones for the first time in millenia. “I will go and see this mortal who calls so freely into the darkest realm.” His command left no room for arguments, and the others bowed their heads in agreement.

None of them dared disagree. The last time the Master of Death had walked the mortal realm it had split it in two. This time there would be no telling in what affect his arrival would have. Only that it would be catastrophic either way.

A mere thirty minutes to the line found Tom Riddle kneeling before more completed summoning circles then he’d drawn in a week, and the strongest wards he could muster. He’d sent out the call, now all he could do was pray that something answered.

Unfortunately for him something did.

One moment the air inside the privacy ward was soft as silk, the next it was still and as heavy as tar. A great pressure built inside the shield. Tom could feel his ears pop, and he could feel the shielding struggling to contain it all.

Then everything went dead quiet, and the air within the circle wavered. Tom looked away, knowing better than to risk a glance at a demons true form, and only looked back when a soft hum met his ears.

A boy stood inside the circle. Or something that looked like one anyways. He was small and slender with deathly pale skin and eyes and a wild crown of ebony hair. His eyes, however, gave him away. They were a green so bright and acidic, that no mortal creature could have possessed them.

Tom gave the demon one last look over, and paled.

Only the eyes gave it away. He’d never witnessed a demon so powerful it could hide its true form so completely. Oh sure, he knew lesser and higher grand demons who used mortal forms. However, even with their grand power there were bits and pieces that showed through. The higher grand demon Abraxas was the strongest Tom had ever summoned, and even Abraxas had shown himself with claws and patches of scales.

So this was the power of a Prime demon?

“Who might I be speaking with?” Tom asked, uncertain of who he’d summoned. He’d been expecting silver eyes. The green were unsettling him.

The demon smiled. It was a gesture that lit his angelic face with innocence, and was all the more errie for it. “That is the danger of an open call, mortal. You never know who might answer.”

“True.” Tom said.

The demon kept smiling. “Why did you call to us?”

“I needed to summon a demon for the Grand International Summoner’s Competition.” Tom kept his answers short and bare bones. The less he said the less likely the beast was to take offense.

A soft frown marred the demon’s pretty face. “No. That is not why you called into the darkest realm of me and mine. Any of Abraxas’ companions could have won you this: Bellatrix, Narcissa, Walburga, Cygnus, or even Pollux would have answer you easily and blow away any other demon in the near vicinity.” The demon’s eyes seemed to peer directly into Tom’s soul. “So tell me why you needed a Prime, before I get bored.”

“I wanted to amaze the High Coven into inviting me in.” Tom admitted automatically, a response that had him grimacing and swiftly reinforcing his mental barriers.

A soft laugh echoed across Tom’s mind, and the foreign presence withdrew as gently as it had entered. Leaving no disturbance behind. “You want to rule them? The weak little summoners who cower from the magicless masses and can barely cast a circle, but you want them to bow to you?”

“I can change that!” Tom argued. He could, he knew so. Under his guidance, the summoners could rise up and overthrow the weak muggles who had made them second class citizens. It was foolish for those chosen few who could rend the veil between worlds to cower in fear of the brainless masses who called summoners evil. He could change that!

The demon shrugged, and then sauntered through all the restraining wards as if they were cobwebs. He came to stop directly before Tom with nothing stopping him from striking out, and brushed a single finger down Tom’s rapidly paling cheek. “You want to start a war, and thought you’d need Draco to finish it. Interesting. Use me instead.”

Finally able to feel all the demon’s power unfettered, Tom was quickly realizing he had miscalculated. His mind however, was still sharp as a needle. The beast hadn’t killed him yet, so he might be able to salvage this.

He smirked, and caught the pale hand. “What would you demand for a bargain to be struck?”

“Mmmh. I want amusement, and you.” The demon purred. “Swear yourself to me first and foremost and I will be your soul bound summons until you tire of this world.” He offered up the strongest pact a summoner and demon could make as if it was nothing, and smiled as he did so.

If Tom had been a plebeian he’d have done a double take. “And at what cost?”

“Your soul when you pass on.” The demon shrugged, as if the claiming of a mortal soul was a little thing, and not a task few demons had ever managed.

Tom wasn’t planning on dying, so he didn’t really need to worry about such a bargain. When would the beast ever be able to fulfill it? “I accept you terms. Shall we seal the deal, nameless one?”

The world seemed to blur for a moment, and then Tom found himself sprawled on the floor of the stage while the demon crawled in his lap.

“Oh silly mortal,” The demon crooned as he lent forwards until they were breathing the same air. “Don’t you know all the best deals are sealed with a kiss?”

The beast devoured him hungrily for a moment, moving to fast for Tom to register, and taking possession of the summoner's mouth in one fell swoop. The Tom blinked, and leaned in take control. His tongue sweeping into the other’s mouth as he settled the demon fully in his lap and firmly grasped that jet black hair.

When the kiss broke the demon blinked, then smiled and leaned up to whisper in his new bonded’s ear. “You can call me Harry.” He breathed out as the privacy fell, and all seven contestants were revealed.

The Novice sent from the Salem Coven was nothing but a bloody smear. Whatever beast they’d summoned too great a power for them to tame. The Beauxbaton Coven’s contestant was slumped unconscious in the middle of burned chalk circles. Clearly having failed to properly summon anything, although at least they weren’t awake to deal with the embarrassment.

The Ugadou Coven’s journeywoman was leaning against a lesser grand demon, looking triumphant, and likely assuming she’d won the whole thing.

But silence was slowly spreading over the crowd, and all the remaining challengers were turning to see why.

Tom noticed none of this. Instead he was watching in awe as the Prime demon in his lap tipped back its head and breathed out a billow of black smoke. The symbol of a completed soul pact rose up into the sky, and everyone in the stadium fell silent. Soul pacts were the strongest bond one could have with a demon as they bond the demon and summoner together for the rest of the summoners existence. They also allowed the demon to be summoned by will and desire alone, which made them incredibly useful. However, only maybe one summoner a decade managed to talk a demon into such a thing, and they were normally common demons at that.

The smoke twisted to form the demon's personal sigel, and Tom got the delightful experience of watching all the blood drain from both Master Dumbledore and Grandmaster Grindelwald's faces. He sat beneath the twisting triangle, filled with a circle and bisected by a line that marked the Master of Death, and knew that no summoner could stand in his way.

“I’m sick of heroes.” Harry warned, his eyes as deep as void he ruled. “I won’t make you one, but I can make sure your legend survives. You’ll never be their hero. What you can be is their beloved tyrant, and I will make it so.”

The power of the Demon King flowed through him, and Tom Riddle had no doubt that they could make it so.