A Summoner in the Wizarding World

As the first-years lined up outside the Great Hall, I recalled my request: the ability to summon an object from another world. I activated it in my mind, the simple interface popping up.

Since it's my first item or ability, it should be immediately useful and moderately weak to not set a long cooldown. Seeing as in Hogwarts, the castle constantly changes, if not sentient - the many secret passages, hidden doors and moving staircases were enough proof, this has to help me with navigation. A self-updating map, in short.

Naturally, the Marauders map makes sense. However, since I have a decent grasp on how that works courtesy of the books and movies, that would not suffice as an experiment. Thus, my second choice would be the AI - Jarvis, or rather Friday - from Iron Man, for they are conversational and intelligent assistance. However, their circuits likely won't work properly in the castle, which is notorious for disrupting these electric devices.

Having a semi-sentient being that can help me get used to the place seems like a good idea, though. Which leaves me another decent option: a being that uses magic, can constantly be with me while raising fewer questions: Zed's Shadow clone. The only downside would be its potential corruption to my mind, according to the lore, which hopefully I can identify using eidetic memory.

Well, no time like the present. I took a deep breath and squeezed my eyes shut, picturing the empty void of space. The voice echoed:

'Welcome back, sir. Have you chosen your first object?'

'Yes. Zed's Shadow magic, to be exact.'

'A magical imitation, limited intelligence. The next summoning would be in one week. Do you wish to continue?'

The interface quickly shifted to 'Runeterra' universe, 'Ionia' region, 'Zed, the Master of Shadows' in individuals and finally 'Shadow magic'. This cooldown was slightly longer than I'd prefer.

'I do.'

The voice announced thereafter.

'Initiate Summoning'

A familiar loading screen appeared in my vision, displaying:

'Harry Potter, Summoner Level 1

Summoned List:

- Shadow Magic (in progress)

Time until next summoning: 6d 23h 59'

Augments: (Unlock at level 5)

Store: (Unlock at level 10)

Special Items: (Unlock level 10)'

The loading bar slowly filled up before the 'in progress' part disappeared. A soft 'ting' followed, but that did not prepare me one bit for the pain

A mass forced itself through my veins, magic cleaving symbols onto my bones, literal black wisps curling up from the skin. From what I know about the Shadow arts, getting a clone was pretty easy - one only needed the famous Shadow box - but powering and more importantly controlling it would be brutal.

Zed, the first to learn, had the technique beaten to himself from agony-inducing training, in turn ensuring my own shadow would be controllable.

When it ended, I found my consciousness back at Hogwarts, just as Hermione's concerned voice reached my ears.

"...Harry. Harry! Are you okay?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. The other students had started to enter the Hall, but she was waiting for me to calm down.

"I'm fine, thanks," I mumbled. "Just a bit tired."

As we hurriedly caught up to the group, me and my shadow started a conversation that went mostly the one way. Seeing as the latter was mostly mute, I had to feel its intention towards my questions, which is quite crude. The results were thus only tolerable, namely the shadow had agreed to remember passages that I had passed while remaining hidden otherwise.

Professor McGonagall gave us a quick glance once Hermione and I did join up, though I saw her slight frown once she noticed me. My shadow did, however, recoil from the looks that followed our every move.

Most noticeable was Dumbledore's, his aged face etched in a jovial smile, one that did not reach his eyes. Quirrell and Snape spread their attention to most first-years, but lingered a little too uncomfortably on me.

With a mysterious tinkle in his half-moon spectacles, Dumbledore spread his arms and announced:

"Let the Sorting begin!"

Fortunately for myself, I had discreetly put on earmuffs - why would that be in Harry's pocket notwithstanding - and only heard bits of the awful song. After that, students were split into four houses. Of those sorted, only 'Granger, Hermione' being in Griffindor slightly ticked me off.

When it was my turn to put on the filthy hat, it started to yammer away.

'Hmm... An inquisitive mind if I've ever seen one... desire for knowledge, but not without purpose... You would be a great fit for Ravenclaw. Cunning, with established ancestry. Salazaar would also love to have you in his house... What do you say, boy?'

'Griffindor, please. I wouldn't want to be separated from my friend.'

As honest as it got, but that sure wouldn't be the only noble reason. Not wanting to be lynched for having a Muggleborn mother turned out to be a great deterrent for the latter and there's no Ravenclaw I'd want to be friends with just yet.

'Are you certain about the choice? You could achieve great things in Slytherin also... No? Very well, then, better be GRIFFINDOR!'

The Hat shouted the last syllable out loud, and muted cheers followed from the scarlet-robed students. Hermione was quite vocal in hers which was quite welcome, making it obvious where my seating would be. I muttered her thanks and we both turned towards the Hat again, missing a handful of sortings, not those I'd regret.

The one that drew quite a bit of attention, however, was not an unfamiliar name. If Dumbledore's twinkle was not enough significance, then Quirrell's brief look of loathing definitely was. The Chosen One had arrived - the supposed Dark Lord 'vanquisher' of this world...

"Longbottom, Neville."