You’re the one that’s called me; see, I’m sweet
The next time, he appears in a well-lit room. He is not immediately aware he has met his summoner before tasting the air. The flavor of magic is overwhelming. He is at Hogwarts. It has been a long time since he had been summoned here. Underlying that is a faint nuance that feels familiar.
When he catches sight of his summoner, he is reluctantly impressed. They have performed a bigger transformation than humans are normally capable of even accounting their aging into a slightly bigger child. Their eyes are gray now but have that same determined but desperate set to them.
To commemorate their meeting again, he takes on their form as he remembers them. He has little trouble matching the flyaway curls or the piercing gaze–unsettling on a child already. Maybe he should borrow their form more often.
They flinch away violently when confronted with their former appearance, paling further with some panicked spots high on their cheeks.
He smiles sweetly.
“Hello again,” he says, adopting their high voice. Switching into the deepest register he can muster, he continues: “Did you think you could hide from me? I am Dominion! I-”
“Pssh, now,” they cut him off. “I don’t have time for your posturing. I need answers from you on how to break a curse, and I need them now.”
“No small talk? It’s a shame what society has come to. Who are your parents that taught you such abysmal manners?”
“A milkmaid and a cowboy.”
He clicks his tongue. “Lying is not good for the soul.”
Nostalgia races across their face. “My soul will have to learn to handle it.”
They launch into an explanation of a malady that has him listening more attentively than he expected. It niggles in his memory like nails scratching on a chalkboard.
Zuriel!
Being able to thwart the plans of a demon imbecilic enough to be trapped in this dimension indefinitely by being sealed into a rock would make this summoning a special treat.
So he does not wait for the child to ask the right questions and instead tells them all he could gather about Zuriel’s little habit. Inconveniently, there was little humans could do against it that did not require a core diver. Not an ability that occurred in humans often naturally.
Not one to dismiss an opportunity at self-promotion, he offers: “I can teach you, though. Let me help you save those poor, sweet children.”
The child proves once again to be smarter than average, when they recognize his words for the ploy they are.
It endears them to him, when the look in their eyes turns knowing but not reproachful. You can not fault a demon for trying to possess you. Too few humans understood that, but still did their very best to bend them to their will.
“Explain the theory to me,” they demand.
He has little faith it will help but gives in. More likely than not, his second summoning by them will end like his first.