Actions

Work Header

Demon Summoning Etiquette

Summary:

Dumbledore tries to summon a demon to help with his Dark Lord problem. Charlie just wants to break a bed with Alastor. Unfortunately, neither gets what they want.

Notes:

Hello! I am back from the void where I live to spend my time! This time with this crack fic treated seriously about Hazbin Hotel.

You might notice this one has a co-creator PumpkinMartenee, without their help and helpful additions this fic might have never seen the light of day so I would like to thank her. Plus her Charlastor fic is amazing and I beg all of you to give it a read.

I have always had the idea of a darker more demony Charlie in my head and that is how I will tend to write her. I hope you enjoy this brief foray into the Charlastor Hazbin fic pool

Work Text:

 

The kitchen of Grimmauld Place was filled to the brim with people. The area had been magically enlarged, and the table temporarily vanished to allow for extra space. The main members of The Order of the Phoenix were stationed like nosey sentinels around the room.

 

Etched on the floor, drawn in red paint (at least Harry dearly hoped it was paint and not something else); was the strangest sigil he had ever seen. It was a circle with what could only be described as two crosses, some randomly placed smaller circles and squiggly lines that looked like a failed rectangle inside. Whatever Dumbledore was planning, it seemed not even Hermione knew much about it. The only thing she knew was that it involved a summoning of some kind, but not much else. Everything else was unknown to her, something Harry thought had been an impossibility

 

“So uh… what’s happening?” Harry inquired only to be met by a chorus of ‘shhhhhs’. After awkwardly standing there for a while, Dumbledore finally turned to look at him with his characteristic twinkle.

 

“Well, as you know, Voldermort…” Squeaks of terror and grimaces from everyone around him interrupted him. “... has grown tremendously powerful thanks to him delving into dark magic like never before. So to combat him, I have decided to fight fire with fire.” Dumbledore took a deep breath before making a broad sweeping gesture towards the sigil. Then he took a tiny nondescript leatherbound black book from inside his sleeve. 

 

The golden trio peered more carefully at the sigil on the ground.  

 

“This here is a summoning circle for one of the 72 demons that make up the Ars Goetia. I figured we can call one up and, using our combined magic, we can chain and bind him so we are not harmed and order it to take care of Voldemort for us”

 

Hermione paled, “But sir, that is powerful dark magic, plus it’s a demon from… well, from literal Hell” She ended the last part with a barely-there whisper. 

 

Harry and Ron whipped around to gape at the information she had spewed and again to gape at the sigil with new eyes. 

 

“Worry not, Miss Granger, since we’re all together now, we have power in spades to be safe. We’ll bind the entity to the circle and order it to fulfil its orders before returning to the hell it came from,” Dumbledore twinkled pleasantly. His calm assurance and obvious power reassured the trio and the rest of the Order members. 

 

Without waiting for more comments, Dumbledore stood straight and started reciting in a deep and commanding voice. The change in tone grabbed Sirius’ attention in a way that stopped him from fiddling with the old radio in the corner of the room. 

 

Darkness seemed to come alive in the room, and the candles that were previously scattered about the room flared to life with an eerie green flame, the radio Sirius had been fiddling with turned on and wildly started to switch stations, ghostly wails and screams of agony were audible through the sound of static. 

 

Suddenly what sounded like a broken name was heard interposed with the screams, “Ç̴̫̪̦͌̌͂h̶͓͔͇̣̞̀ą̵̹͙͙͑̽͘r̴͙̜̃͌l̴͙̱̖͇̈́̽̿̂͒ĩ̵̗̅̊͂͘ȩ̶̝̦̼͆͛͠ - C̵̱̱̍͗h̶̳͎̀̋́ȃ̸̡̳̹͑̚-̵̛͋́̏ͅ ̶̺̭̙̇́̏͝ĉ̵̬̩ḫ̸̪̝̣̖̔̈͒a̷͍̘̺̽̊ṛ̵͑l̵̯̯̼̰̍̅͒͠ͅi̴͖̳͍̒e̷͓̟̪̊̇̋ ̷̜͠h̴̫̜̙͗́͝ê̶͉̻̙̔l̶̰̰̳̀̌̇p̶̛̰̠̣̮̥͐̾̄ ̵̡͍̻͛̂͂̕͝m̸̛̪͖̙̭̈͂͑ẽ̷̚͜”

 

The name was so heavy in static that it was hard to figure out. Harry thought the name might’ve been Carrie.

 

Static was heavy in the air, making it almost hard to breathe, when suddenly darkness and silence engulfed the whole room. The jarring change made ears pop, and small gasps of surprise escaped a few of the people gathered. 

 

A beat later, a column of orange, red and golden-hued fire erupted in the middle of the room. Confined to the boundaries of the circle, the heat was still unbearable. It shone almost like the colours of dawn, making it hard to see. A shadow seemed to be inside it, vaguely humanoid in shape. The figure was tall, even taller than Dumbledore.

 

As suddenly as the column of fire started, it ended, and in its place was a tall woman. She had long blonde hair tied back in a sort of braid, her complexion was porcelain white with two rosy red cheeks and black lips. Dressed in a black and red dress, she almost looked angelic, were it not for the fact that she had come from a demonic summoning ritual, Harry would’ve thought she was an angel. That idea was swift to die when she opened her eyes, glowing yellow sclera with red eyes and slitted pupils greeted the gathered Order. 

 

After a beat of silence, Dumbledore decided to speak up, “Good evening, young Lady, might your name be Vassago by any chance?”

 

With a small snicker that flashed a bit of fang, the woman replied, “It’s most certainly not.” Eyeing the sigil she was standing on, she continued, “Prince Vassago would not have come with this frankly pathetic sigil, it has so many mistakes on the hellish symbols it’s quite a surprise it even worked. Then again, even if the sigil had been correct, he wouldn’t have come. You’re missing the appropriate tribute”

 

Harry didn’t think Dumbledore could get anything wrong. He was gaping in disbelief at the mocking tone the woman (was she a demon?) was using towards Dumbledore. He was the strongest wizard alive, even if she was from Hell; Harry was sure Dumbledore was more powerful, plus she was restrained in the circle anyway. 

 


 

Charlie groaned as she climbed up the stairs to the penthouse suite. She was exhausted and longed to take off her dress and heels. She was hanging onto Alastor’s arm, ready to end the well-deserved date night with some hot and heavy sex. It was after all their first anniversary of unholy marriage. With a yelp she suddenly found herself pressed to the wall, with a clawed hand over her head and Alastor’s tall form looming over her. For anyone else the sight would’ve inspired terror and perhaps be the last thing they saw, but for Charlie it only served to make heat rise in her cheeks and her pupils to dilate. It was rare for her love to express any touch beyond hand holding or dancing outside of their rooms. He was an intensely private person. 

 

Charlie gasped when she felt a clawed hand graze her thigh, slowly pushing the fabric of the dress out of the way. With a hum Alastor leaned down and licked her neck teasing Charlie and drawing out a soft moan from her lips. 

 

Just when she thought they would never actually reach the room and Alastor would choose to take her against the wall, her partner froze and cocked his head, seemingly listening to something only he could hear. The lights in the hallway started flickering on and off, when suddenly Alastor stepped away from her and doubled over in pain.

 

With a pained groan, and ever-increasing sounds of radio static, Alastor grabbed his head as a sigil ever so slowly started to form underneath his hooves. As the symbol started growing more defined, spectral chains started to rise from the cardinal points. In a rare show of vulnerability Alastor reached out to Charlie and asked for her help. 

Charlie’s breath hitched. Terror punched straight through her, sharp, cold, and furious. She watched, as if in slow motion, the way his form pulled at the edges, stretching and contorting in that unmistakable way. It was the tell-tale signs of a summoning. A possessive rush of fear and anger tightened in her chest.

Alastor looked up at her, still doubled over. His eyes had gone black, the pupils spinning like radio dials caught between stations. Ichor spilled from the corners of that ever-present smile, now twisted into a grimace.

“Ç̴̫̪̦͌̌͂h̶͓͔͇̣̞̀ą̵̹͙͙͑̽͘r̴͙̜̃͌l̴͙̱̖͇̈́̽̿̂͒ĩ̵̗̅̊͂͘ȩ̶̝̦̼͆͛͠ - C̵̱̱̍͗h̶̳͎̀̋́ȃ̸̡̳̹͑̚-̵̛͋́̏ͅ ̶̺̭̙̇́̏͝ĉ̵̬̩ḫ̸̪̝̣̖̔̈͒a̷͍̘̺̽̊ṛ̵͑l̵̯̯̼̰̍̅͒͠ͅi̴͖̳͍̒e̷͓̟̪̊̇̋ ̷̜͠h̴̫̜̙͗́͝ê̶͉̻̙̔l̶̰̰̳̀̌̇p̶̛̰̠̣̮̥͐̾̄ ̵̡͍̻͛̂͂̕͝m̸̛̪͖̙̭̈͂͑ẽ̷̚͜…”

His voice sounded distant, warped, like it was being dragged through static. Something was fundamentally wrong.

That's when she saw it, the glowing fragments of pale blue light circling around his neck. The thin wisps twirling through the air like they were testing the shape of a collar.
A soul chain?

No.

Fuck NO! Not her stag.

“Oh, absolutely not,” she breathed, fury blooming hot and bright.

She dropped to her knees in front of him, cupping his face with both hands. “Al, I’m right here. I’ve got you. I’ll make this better. I promise.”

Even through the agony, Alastor felt it, the shift in her. The authority. The power. The protective rage.

“Charlie…?” he managed, trying to focus on her through the pain.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice soft but unshakably sure. Her more demonic features starting to surface. “But I have to do this. I swear I’ll find my way back to you.”

Before he could protest, she closed the distance between them, slotting her mouth over his.

Her usual tenderness was gone, replaced with something different. Fierce and final.

Terror ripped through him as the meaning of her words snapped into place. No. No, she couldn’t…

But it was too late, Charlie had shifted her form completely. One blackened claw shot forward, seizing the half-formed collar. She tore the glowing strand from his neck like it was nothing but wet paper. With her other hand, she drove her newly manifested trident straight into the heart of the sigil.

A blinding flash swallowed everything.

Then all at once the pain was gone... but so was his darling demon-belle.


A column of orange, red, and gold fire erupted in the center of the room. Even trapped within the circle’s boundary, the heat blasted outward in waves. It glowed like a false sunrise, bright and powerful. The intensity of it forcing everyone to shield their eyes.

And then, as suddenly as it had ignited, the fire collapsed inward and vanished, leaving a single figure standing in the settling haze.

Charlie.

Silence rippled outward. No one breathed.

She blinked, taking in the strange little room, the unfamiliar humans gathered around her, the smell of old parchment and chalk dust mixing with the last traces of ozone. Confusion tugged at her features.

Then she looked down.

The sigil she stood in was… wrong. Not a typical demonic summoning it had been altered. By the looks of it intentionally. Her brows knit, red eyes narrowing as she studied the wavy lines beneath her feet.

This wasn’t a summon she recognized.
And it definitely wasn’t one meant for her.

There was a kind of arrogance in the strokes of the altered sigil, as if someone believed themselves powerful enough to cheat the very rules of Hell itself.

What mortal would be so arrogant to try?

Charlie looked up at the room again, taking in the strange audience around her. Their robes, the almost peppery smell in the air that was unmistakably magic.

That’s when it hit her.

Wizards.

Her train of thought was interrupted by the elder of the group. A tall man with a long beard and dark blue robes.

“Good evening, young Lady, might your name be Vassago by any chance?”

Vassago..?

These mortal wizards believed they were summoning a demon prince of the Ars Goetia?

Charlie snickered, but not because she found this situation funny but from the arrogance of this man.

“It’s most certainly not.” She said as she eyed the circle she was still standing on.

“Prince Vassago would not have come with this frankly pathetic sigil; it has so many mistakes on the hellish symbols it’s quite a surprise it even worked. Then again, even if the sigil had been correct, he wouldn’t have come. You’re missing the appropriate tribute”

The younger wizards were gaping at her. A boy with messy black hair and glasses actually stared at her slack jawed.

Charlie looked away from the mortals and took another look at the sigil.

“So tell me,” Charlie surreptitiously smeared the edge of the summoning circle with her hoof, interrupting the glow of power pulsing within it. Then she looked back up at the oldest of the wizards, her face determined. “What is your name mortal?”

She watched as the wizard collected himself, the subtle shift of his facial features.

“I am Dumbledore, and we have called for help.” He said, raising his chin as he spoke.

Charlie blinked, taking it all in with a soft hum and then answered.

“No.” She said, her tone was final.

“That’s not the way this is going to work, Mr. Dumbledore, and I’ll tell you why.”

Charlie ran her hand over her triton which still stood, stabbed into the now broken summoning circle.

“I have 3 current problems with you right now” With a disappointed look, the demoness summoned an armchair with a snap of her fingers.

“One: you attempted to bind one of my subjects into your service permanently. Don’t think I did not notice the indenture symbol added to your sigil” 

“Two: your ritual was so badly configured that you nearly summoned and trapped someone other than Prince Vassago, forcing me to intercept the ritual so that neither of the two previously mentioned consequences happened. 

Dumbledore paled when a symbol in question lit up like molten magma before vanishing before their eyes. A general shiver of apprehension went through the gathered crowd at the casual show of power in manipulating a summoning circle from within. 

“And three: you have forced me away from my husband on my wedding anniversary. So no, I will not be helping you.” She announced with a huff.

“Now young lady, there is no need…” Dumbledore started to say before being interrupted by a sharp crackle of static from the radio next to Sirius.

Every eye turned to look at the radio and noticed it was now on and glowing an eerie, eldritch green colour.

With a laugh the demoness turned to look at the radio and with a playful tilt to her tone said, “I knew you were listening My Stag.  I’m safe and at no risk from these wizards.”

Charlie avoided using his name. Names have power after all. She knew Alastor was smart enough to pick out on that detail when she addressed him and would follow suit.

An eerie accented voice spoke up from the radio, “My Fallen Angel, when will you come home? I need you in my arms and in our bed.

Heat rose up in Charlie’s cheeks once more, and she shivered in anticipation.

“I’ll be home soon. I’ll just teach these miscreants a little lesson in demon summoning etiquette. You are welcome to keep watch from the radio though”

She turned towards the eldest wizard in the room, and with a chilling gaze stood up to her full height again.

“Mr. Dumbledore, I am several centuries your elder so please drop the condescending lecture mode” Deciding that they needed to feel the full gravity of their actions Charlie allowed her full demon form to emerge; her eyes inverted, gaining red fiery sclerae and glowing yellow irises still with the slit pupil, tall gently sweeping horns burst from her head and her tail slowly appeared from the shadows of her dress.

“Names have power Mr. Dumbledore but there is no power on Earth that can bind me so I will grant you mine” With a powerful wrench Charlie yanked her trident out of the sigil, and slowly but very deliberately stepped over the boundary of the summoning circle.

“My name is Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer The Morningstar, daughter of Lillith, the first woman and mother of all Succubi.”

With a flash of flames a crown made from the blackest metal resembling a crown of thorns, manifested on her head. A single tear-shaped ruby was in the centre of the crown flanked by smaller 3 smaller tear-shaped gems of different colours on each side.

“I am the Crown Princess of Hell and the Antichrist.”


Harry saw as Dumbledore twinkled his eyes and gathered himself. The show of confidence might have worked on anyone else but the lack of reacting it incited from the demon in the circle gave him pause. She had been busy studying the claws in her right hand, trident clutched in her left. With a casual shift of her legs Harry saw that instead of feet she had black cloven hooves.

“Now young lady, there is no need…” Dumbledore started to say before being interrupted by a sharp crackle of static from the radio next to Sirius.

Harry felt Hermione and Ron grasp each of his hands at the voice that erupted from the radio. What had Professor Dumbledore done? Consorting with demons? Hermione was whimpering quietly.

The demoness was talking to the radio, but Harry was too scared to pay attention to the conversation. He only tuned back in when movement from the circle caught his attention.

Gravity seemed to turn heavier all of a sudden, almost forcing him to his knees, or in a shallow bow.

Terror gripped the room at large when the demoness’ eyes inverted and got an inner glow, blood-red sclerae and golden irises glaring with power from a face so perfect it was inhuman.

With but a whisper a coal-black spade-tipped tail seemed to unravel from her dress and slowly, sweeping, red-tipped black horns rose from her forehead.

“Names have power Mr. Dumbledore but there is no power on Earth that can bind me so I will grant you mine”

Laughter erupted out of the radio, it sounded delighted and almost hungry. Once the laughter died down the radio started emitting the sound of distant screams and crashing thunder. Ambiance sounds to the damned.

Dumbledore and the rest of the adult witches and wizards in the room took their wands out, spells at the ready when with a very deliberate step, the demoness stepped out of the summoning circle as if it had never been there.

“My name is Charlotte Morningstar, daughter of Lucifer The Morningstar, daughter of Lillith, the first woman and mother of all Succubi.”

“I am the Crown Princess of Hell and the Antichrist.”


With a dark but angelic smile Charlie slammed the butt of her trident on the ground, forcing all the wands to clatter to the floor.

“You have a lot to learn still Mr. Dumbledore, but I am not totally heartless”

With a smile she reached out a clawed glowing hand. “Shall we make a deal?”