3 First Summons

Dumbledore woke in a panic. All that magic…it was incredible! And alarming. Despite his great years, he couldn't think of any mighty work of magic that could match the concentration of power he felt now. And it was happening in his castle! He ought to know everything that went on in its halls.

His brows furrowed as he waved his wand to transfigure his robes to something more suitable to be seen in – bright purple robes with shooting stars were perfect for a powerful wizard like himself – wondering why the wards hadn't warned him. Even now, they still showed no reaction to the phenomenon.

'Is Hogwarts itself at work here?' he pondered.

Thoughts flew through his aged but brilliant mind as he rushed out of his bedroom and into his silent office. He didn't notice the alert spell he'd attached to Azalea and that'd been ringing nonstop for the past week was no longer doing so – she wasn't in danger now, after all – as he crossed the length of his office and exited in but a few strides.

He wanted…no, needed to be the first one there. No doubt most of, if not all of the professors had been woken and were in the process of making their way to the situation. Merlin, he wouldn't be surprised in the entire student body showed up.

Only a complete fool would miss such signs.

===

Meanwhile, in the Gryffindor fourth year boys' dormitory, Neville, Seamus, and Dean had already thrown on some clothes.

"Do we wake him up?" Seamus asked the other two, gesturing his head towards the bed with the loudly snoring ginger.

"Why attempt the impossible?" Neville replied with a shrug before turning and leaving. Dean and Seamus looked at one another for a moment before they too shrugged and left.

All the while, the ginger youth never noticed a thing.

===

The second the three summons exited their voids, the light surrounding them began easing away, the one in the center dimming more slowly than the other two. The raw magic flooding the area also was dissipating, and yet a pressure, a feeling of power persisted. Knowing the mere presence of the new individuals was enough to cause a feeling of suppression, Azalea's doubts as to the greatness of her new system were finally put to rest.

And finally, with the light having faded enough, she could make out the details of her new allies.

On the right was a handsome young man in his early 20's who stood at nearly 180 centimeters in height (5'10''). He had windswept dark brown hair, pale skin, and amber eyes. He wore a buttoned-up collar black shirt, a navy-blue jacket, and dark gray pants. His face was nearly void of expression except of a single raise eyebrow while his eyes observed her.

The young girl – had she even reached her teen years? – that originated from the left void had already dashed to Azalea faster than her eyes could follow and was currently excitedly walking around her, taking in every centimeter of her summoner, fascination obvious in her crimson red eyes. Though such interest in herself made Azalea self-conscious – and nervous considering the overly massive halberd the girl wielded – she forced herself to remain calm and stoically took in the rest of the girl's appearance.

The young girl wore a black dress with red frills, black stockings supported with garters, and red boots. Atop her long, flowing black hair was a black ribbon also accentuated with red frills. For all appearances, halberd aside, she seemed to be nothing more than an inquisitive child. But Azalea felt she was anything but.

Finally, Azalea turned her gaze to the man who came from the center void. There was no room for question as to who the legendary summon was. Not only did power seem to roll off him in waves, his features were so ethereal and otherworldly that she wouldn't be surprised if he was a god.

Standing above 185 centimeters (74 inches), long blonde hair flowed loosely well past his shoulders. Elongated, pointed ears poked out from beneath his hair. He had high cheekbones and an angular face with red/orange eyes which burned like fire. His demeanor screamed both nobility and pride. He was adorned in a matching light green trousers, tunic, robe. And though his clothes were simple and seemed made of simple cloth, Azalea felt his apparel was of the finest make.

As their eyes met, Azalea found herself rooted to the spot. His gaze was piercing, feeling like he was searching her very soul. At that moment, though The Council had indicated her summons would be loyal to her, she felt she was seconds from dying by his hands.

And then that feeling vanished. The man turned his gaze away and started to casually observe his surroundings. She took in a gulp of air, subconsciously having not breathed under his gaze.

"So, you're Azalea, then? Our summoner?" asked a feminine voice.

Azalea glanced down and saw her girl summon standing close in front of her. 'When had she gotten there?'

"Y-yes, I'm Azalea Potter. It's nice to meet you," she somewhat hesitantly introduced, not sure how to interact with her summons. Though they'd return to their own realities when she died, it didn't remove the fact she had dragged them to this world. If the summoning process hadn't instilled some loyalty to her in them, would one of them have killed her already?

"Could we go visit your uncle? There's so much I'd like to discuss with him," she finished sinisterly before proceeding to lick her now purple lips. In the edge of her vision the brown-haired youth gave a grimace before nodding in agreement, while the blonde man furrowed his brow.

Azalea was thrown by the question. "M-my uncle? Why would you…," she started before realization dawned on her. "The summoning, it informed you of me didn't it?"

"Yep! I was given knowledge of how this summoning thing works, then your whole life was shown to me." The girl's tone then changed from inquisitive and playful to solemn. "You've had a hard life. It's given you a close connection to Death."

Not knowing how to take that statement, nor wanting to delve into the tragedy that was her life, Azalea decided to move the conversation in a more positive direction. "Since you apparently know me, may I have your names?" she asked, looking at the three in turn.

"I'm Rory Mercury, Apostle of Emroy," the girl declared while giving a casual swing of her giant purple halberd.

Azalea gave a smile to the now-named Rory. "It's a pleasure." She then turned to the brown-haired man.

"Kazuma. A Contractor," he said with nonchalance, slipping a hand into his pocket. Though having no clue what a Contractor was, and reasonably doubting Kazuma was his full name, Azalea still flashed him a pleasant smile and nodded towards him.

All three who then turned to the last unidentified individual. It was clear Azalea wasn't the only one curious about him.

"I am Mairon, the mightiest of the Maia and Chief Assistant of the Vala, Aulë the Smith." As he spoke, though his face remained neutral, a feeling of arrogance crept into his voice. And, while the meaning behind his titles was lost on Azalea, she had a sense that such arrogance was deserved.

Introductions over with, silence descended on the group before Azalea took a deep breath before speaking her thoughts. "I haven't had the time to really process what having this power means, and you're all probably in a similar boat, but I want you to know I'll treat you to the best of my ability. I hope we can have a good future together."

"As long as that future includes killing you uncle and this Voldemort, I'll be more than happy to help," Rory smiled.

"I think we can come up with something," she replied. The warmth of hope filled Azalea at Rory's admittedly murderous words, not because she was looking forward to killing those two – she was still far too innocent to seek out the deaths of even the most wicked – but because future of being free now seemed feasible.

Her thoughts were broken by Kazuma's calm, almost bored voice. "I hate to ruin the mood, but I think your whole school is about to arrive."

Azalea froze, the sounds of clamoring voices and echoing footsteps becoming barely audible, but becoming quickly louder. Fear and anxiety clawed at her chest. She hadn't thought this far ahead! All of Hogwarts already hated her and she doubted her summons – who would probably be thought of as foreign invaders – would be treated any better.

She needed more time! Time to calmly think up a plan. She needed to escape. Even if the professors and students saw her summons, as long as she could delay the actual confrontation it would surely end in a better result. But where could she go?

'Gringotts!' she realized, having remembered what The Council suggested.

In a rush she asked her three allies, "Can any of you get us out of here without causing a scene?"

Both Rory and Mairon gave signals to the negative. Kazuma, on the other hand, gave a shrug. "Sure, just lead the way."

Before he was even finished speaking a gentle yet powerful wind rose up and lifted all four of them. They rose until they were floating just beneath the ceiling and then Kazuma – for who else could it be – started moving them down corridors and stairs. Despite having told Azalea to 'lead the way' she was clearly too shocked at the moment to say anything. Therefore, he guided the party – the wind shrouding them and preventing sound from escaping – over the heads of many professors and students, all the while making his way down the first floor where he assumed the exit would be.

Suddenly, Azalea's face turned from shocked to filled with admiration and awe. "You can fly without a broom!?" she screamed. "Wicked!"

Having witness her life, even Mairon couldn't stop the slight upturn of his mouth at the sight of her childlike glee. She a flight junkie through and through.