Last time, on Sors Daemoniorum:

He could practically smell the air of freedom as he silently slunk out the front door of Number 4 Privet Drive. No more cuts or bruises from that family's hands. No more pain, no more hurt.

"Oh!" The child coughed roughly, his face paling at the sight of the person he'd hit. "I-I'm sorry sir! I'm so sorry, I-I wasn't watching where I was-was going, and—"

"I am Caden Lightbane."

Now this is the beginning spoken of before. This is now Prince Damian Voidsurfer. The child called Harry Potter is no more.

Sadly, a year later your mother and her husband were murdered. Even today, we are unsure of the identity of their killer, and you were taken before we could intervene.

Damian hurried to catch up to him, and soon Caden settled with reaching down and tugging the small child into his arms, and continued on. "This is Daescon Uo, the city surrounding the Palace Voidsurfer, where your father rules."

"La nebulo de nia vizio estos ekzilita, lasu la vera formo elvenu por ĉiuj vidi. Reveal!"

And then, Damian was changing. His skin became a bit cocoa tinted, his eyes slanted slightly, becoming more gold in color, the green diminishing. His hair darkened even more if possible, and was no longer unruly.

Richard sat up, tightening his hold on his son, eyes narrowed. Caden fingered the hilt of one of his swords, gray orbs glinting with malice. "Allow me to pleasure of asking, sire—Will we be acting on this offense?"

"Indeed. Kill them."

Richard smiled quietly as his son's golden eyes opened. The boy smiled sleepily up as him, lifting a hand slowly to touch Richards face. "... I forgive you..."

"I will never let that repeat itself, son. You'll never have to walk such distances alone again. I promise."

Ah well. Not his problem. Prince Damian was safe now. These vile creatures would hurt him no longer. Never again. All in all, it was a pretty good job, if he had any say in it.

Chapter 1

:12:00 AM:

-Archery Range, Kraken Garden, Eastern wing #3, Palace Voidsurfer, Demon Realm-

Damian Voidsurfer trained his eye down the shaft of the sleek, steel-tipped arrow. He pulled back on the bowstring with practiced accuracy, and with a twang, the projectile flew through the air at breakneck speed and imbedded itself deeply into it's target. It had been eleven long, eventful, and enjoyable years that he'd lived in the Demon Realms since that day when he was five. Now, he had just recently turned sixteen—the age that is considered the turning point of the teenage Demon's life, but also a hindrance. You'd get more privileges, yes, but that didn't stop the real adults from still viewing you as a young and innocent child. This was the age where you stood at the brink of your childhood, trying all year to take that one step which decided if you were ready to move onto adulthood. Some Demon teens tried their best to be mature, and perfect for their sixteenth year of life, while others could really care less what the true adults thought of them. Damian, the Crowned prince of the Demon Realm, was one of these teens. More so, he seemed to stand right on the bold line between the two. He behaved childishly, but had his serious moments as well. Due to his downright adorable traits, he was utterly loved by every Demon in the Realm itself. Damian Conrad Voidsurfer was the pride and joy of the Demon King.

"Nice shot, there, my Prince." A voice called out, then. Damian blinked, lowering his bow and turning to see his longtime friend and guardian, Commander Lightbane, leaning leisurely against the obsidian gate of the archery garden, watching him with a slightly bemused expression. "Oh, hello Caden. Didn't see you there." The teen smiled sheepishly, hugging himself and glancing discreetly in the other direction.

Caden snorted. "Don't pull those "cute" and "adorable" moves on me, Damian. I know them all, practically raising you like I did."

"Right," Damian closed his eyes, grinning shyly, still. "My bad." He set his weapon down and moved forward to sit on a nearby stone bench, looking up into the older Demon's deep gray eyes. "So, what brings you here, then?"

Caden rolled his shoulders back, before sitting next to his young charge. "I just wanted to congratulate you on passing your final flying exam, I suppose." The Prince had completed his training—in Demon Magic, and weapon play as well as the fighting arts—just a short time before. Overall, he had become a master aerial warrior as well—every demon could obtain a set of wings no matter their type(as there were dog demons, bird demons, snake demons—that sort) by having a skilled Demon warlock or such enchant a tattoo upon their shoulders, which would become a set of wings whenever their owners willed it. Damian's tattoos were quite stunning, admittedly. The wings were almost bat-like when outstretched, though they probably would remind you more of an ice-dragon—if the ice was black. When in tattoo form, however, they were only intricate and beautifully crafted black designs that swirled across the teen's shoulder blades. Besides these, the rest of Damian's appearance had changed as he grew older as well. His milk chocolate colored skin had a healthy glow to it, almost reminding Caden of apricots somehow, when it was illuminated at night(Demon's skin was like that. They glowed in the dark—literally). He had many other, tribal like tattoos that wound around his biceps and torso, and his legs and forearms—much like Caden himself, only less so, and in silver as well as an inky black. His usual attire consisted of a black vest, tied closed at the front, black boots, black trousers, and sometimes a white, silver, or gold long-sleeved tunic. Belts hung like sashes in an X across his chest, from his shoulders to his hips, and were laden with many, many weapons(hidden or no). His favorite weapon, however, was his silver bow and steel-tipped arrows—though the black bladed Stygian dagger set he had received for his sixteenth birthday came in at a close second. Damian's eyes were so gold, that they seemed to glow, even in the light—and more in the dark. His obsidian hair was tied back, lowly, with a black string, though his bangs hung around his face slightly—just enough to cover the scar that rested almost beneath the hairline now, and his hair just barely reached his shoulder blades. The scar itself was so faded, you'd only be able to see it if you knew it was there, and looked hard enough.

Damian smiled softly. "That's not all, though, I believe?"

Caden smirked. "As perceptive as ever. Yes, you are correct. Our King requests your presence in the War Chamber in," the man glanced quickly at the indigo sky, "about twenty minutes."

Damian nodded. "Walk with me?" He asked, and Caden nodded his consent.

"Of course."

The left the range and made their way to the northern-most wing, toward the back of the palace. This wing held the great room that was known as the War Chamber, which was located just behind the large and magnificent throne room. The ceiling of the War Chamber consisted of a large, glass dome, enchanted with demonic magic, making it indestructible, and it shone like a mountain made of diamond. It was visible from every angle, and was one of the most eye-catching features of the entire palace,

As the two Demons walked side by side down the wide corridors carpeted in white, red, silver and gold, Damian turned curiously towards his companion. "Why are we having a War council, though? I thought we negotiated peace with the Sythlacs last year?"

Caden shook his head, shrugging. "I'm not sure, actually. While it is true that Sythlacite-Netherworld War was brought to an end, large thanks to your help for that, the King did seem a bit concerned about this meeting. Perhaps there are still some left-over Sythlacite renegades running around..."

Damian had, over the past years, been a large help in war negotiations and the conduction of peace treaties throughout the realms. Most say it was just impossible to dislike him due to his fun, loving, and caring nature, but Caden saw that he was actually very talented in making points, and bringing truth to light. He was a invaluable asset to the Demon Council, that fact remained prominent. As it was, the Sythlic Empire was one of the Realms nearest to the Demon Realm, which was commonly known as "The Netherworld." The Demons were very high up on the social standing ladder, it seemed, and was one, if the the richest Realm in the Universal Plains. The Sythlacs apparently got jealous of that fact(they were quite poor, falling in on a large-scale financial depression), and had cast organized raids on The Netherworld about three years before, which soon led to an all-out war between the two. The scales were tipped in the Demons, favor, however, due to the fact they had more resources, manpower, and funds. Damian soon found himself feeling sympathy towards the Sythlacites, who were feeling heavy blows to their population, armies, food sources, and even their low economy—so he requested that his father allow him to go negotiate with the Sythlac Emperor. He soon departed toward a agreed meeting place on the border between Realms—known as "Neutral Territory"—and began negotiations. After meeting Damian, both Realms were surprised at how quickly the Emperor agreed to a well thought-out treaty. It seemed that the Prince had made the Sythlac see sense—that with the Sythlic Empire's deteriorating economy, war was the last thing they needed. After that, The Netherworld began aiding the Sythlic Empire, helping them rise out of the dark hole they'd pulled themselves into—though there were still small groups scattered around, Sythlic renegades and many refugees that didn't see the point of the treaty clearly yet, as Caden had pointed out.

"Maybe so," Damian pondered. They had reached the throne room, now, and he led the way to a large, almost unnoticeable oak door that sat toward the left of the golden throne of the King. He pushed it open and entered the War Chamber, nodding towards the gathered group. There was the King, his father; the eight Demon Warlords, who helped strategic approaches, and advised alongside Caden—who was the Commander of the Kings armies and the Royal Advisor as well; the five archmages, who oversaw as well as led, and trained the Demon troops who worked with magic instead of weaponry; the four Generals who lead under Caden; and Damian, Crowned Prince, Master Archer and Leader of the Royal Negotiations.

Damian and Caden bowed deeply toward the King, and acknowledged the presence of the others. As Damian sat down to the right of his father, he sensed a foreboding aura centered in the room, like a terrible event was approaching or about to take place. He narrowed his eyes and his ears lay flat against his head. Richard shot him a knowing look.

That was another thing about Damian Conrad Voidsurfer. It had taken a long time, actually, for the Demon's to figure out his Demon type. He remembered that day very well...

Damian looked up at Caden with wide eyes, before taking his hand and allowing the older Demon to lead him toward the dining hall. He'd only been in the Demon Realm for two years, but it still never ceased to amaze him. Of course, after the last four years of his life in the slums, you'd expect this—but that did nothing to lessen the amazing masterpiece of beauty that was the Netherworld.

"What we going to have for dinner, Caden?" Damian swung on his forearm. Caden shook his head, smiling. No one could figure out how the Prince could stay so agile.

"I am unaware of the menu, my Prince." the Commander answered. He'd somehow become Damian's favorite companion over the time the little Demon had lived in the Palace. Nobody knew why Damian was so clingy...

The boy sucked in a deep breath. "Are we gonna have more fish? Cod? Cod? Tuna? Fish?~" He pleaded, looking up with those large, owlish gold eyes. That was something else that got them. Damian loved eating fish. He'd gorge himself on them if there wasn't anyone there to stop him. It was a bit scary, actually.

"I do not know," Caden sighed, lifting the child into his arms as they arrived at the large, oak doors that led into the hall. It was decorated with gold and silver threaded draperies and carpets, and a long, black—obsidian—table sat in the center of the hall. At the head of the table sat King Richard, who smiled up at them in greeting. "Salutoj, my son. Caden," he sent a nod toward the Commander. "Please, be seated."

Damian clambered onto the seat to the right of his father, beaming up at the King before looking at the table expectantly. Caden smirked, sitting toward Richard's left.

"Are we having fish? Are we? Daddy, are we going to have fish? Mmmm!~" Damian sighed, sinking in his chair happily.

Richard stifled a laugh, patting his son on the head. "Of course, Dami. We always have a platter of fish for you with every meal, remember?"

The seven year old grinned, turning his slanted eyes toward the kitchen doors in wait for the servers. "Yup~ I forgot."

As the servants set the platters of food down before them, Damian grinned down at the fish, before frowning slightly and looking around. "Mmm, Daddy? Why isn't there any milk? Milk is good!~"

Richard raised an eyebrow. "Milk? I haven't heard that one before..." he looked over at Caden, who suddenly wore an exasperated face.

"He drinks about a galleon a day!" The gray eyed man admonished. "I don't know where it all goes!"

The King blinked, then glanced down at Damian, who was reaching for a large glass jar of milk one of the servants held out to him.

The young boy held the jar in his hands, looking down eagerly at it's contents, before downing the whole thing in under a minute. Caden looked away with wide eyes, while the King just gazed at his son with an open mouth.

"Mmm!~" Damian sighed, setting the glass down. "More? He asked the servant, who looked towards the king with slightly wide eyes. Richard shook his head a little, then ruffled Damian's hair. "No, I believe that is enough, son."

Damian hissed, almost pouting, and Richard, Caden and the servants' eyes all widened.

Damian hissed.

Damian hissed.

Damian hissed.

Damian hissed.

Nope. It still didn't seem real. Why on earth would Damian hiss unless—

"Awww!" Damian cried, disappointed. "Why not?" The young Demon Prince's ears lay flat against his hair, and his tail stopped swishing—

"E-EARS?! TAIL?!" Caden shouted, eyes bulging. "Where did that come from?!"

Damian blinked up at him with wide eyes. Slowly, as Richard and Caden watched in confusion, he reached his small hands up and gently fingered the fuzzy, obsidian cat ears that rested on the top of his head. They were faded pink on the inside, and the tail that was curled around the boys waist was a solid black like his hair. "Heyyy!~" The child giggled. "I have ears!"

"A-ah." Richard nodded shakily. "He must be a Cat Demon, then."

"Wonder what kind..." Caden leaned forward and let out a deep sigh, resting his chin on his hands.

They both sat there and watched in wonder as Damian consumed the platter of salmon a wide-eyed servant set before him...

Damian sighed. Yeah, good times. He looked up at the twenty other Demons who sat near him, around the large, circular stone table, which was strewn with maps and strategies and battle plans from past wars and events. He turned to look at his father, then, who had stood up as soon as Caden sat to his left. "Salutoj, my friends." The Demon King said. "I have called you here today to discuss a rather strange matter concerning events in the Human Realm." Damian stiffened as the Warlords murmured to each other in surprise. He didn't like the Human Realm, there were bad people there... He snapped back to attention as Richard continued. "They've made contact with us—" Here, the mages bristled while the other's, save for Caden, gasped. Damian gulped, hoping that whatever his father said next had nothing to do with him. "—and have requested aid in heir war against an enemy called the "Light.""

Damian stilled, trying to comprehend what that meant. So it wasn't the humans asking for help, par say. It was the Magical Humans and Creatures. That...didn't really make things much better, in his eyes.

"I have considered their request, and have decided to send The Prince up to negotiate possible ways we can assist, and the payment."

Damian froze as the Warlords and the Generals turned to speak with each other on the matter quietly on the other side of the table. Caden was watching him closely out of the corner of his eyes, it seemed, and the King was just sitting down.

"Father..." Damian frowned softly, clinging to Richard's arm once the man was seated. The King turned to him, surprised. "Yes, my son? What is it?"

"U-Um..." Damian's ears drooped, and his tail curled around his waist while his slightly sharpened teeth bit his lower lip—telltale signs that he was uncomfortable. "I.. Please don't make me go there! I don't want to!"

Richard frowned. "Damian? Why not?"

The Prince shook his head wordlessly, clutching the man's arm. The King looked down at his son, concerned. He opened his mouth to speak, only to stop again when he felt a hand on his arm. He looked over to see Caden, giving him a look that said "Not right now."

Richard was confused, but decided to brush off his son's strange behavior until after the meeting. He turned to the gathered Demons, who were now looking back at him, and awaited their response.

:an hour later:

-Throne Room, Palace Voidsurfer, Demon Realm-

"No! Daddy, please, I don't want to!" Damian tugged his sleeve, ears flat against his head and pupils slitted. His claws(they were retractable, as a cats. His fingernails would turn black, sharped into needle-like tips and curl in on themselves ever-so-slightly—they hurt, Caden could vouch for that)were out a bit, and they ripped into Richard's shirt.

The King was about to scold him for the destruction of his tunic, then looked down at Damian's face. Damian was a bit small for his age. He stood two heads shorter than his father, and usually one or perhaps one and a half heads shorter than other Demons his age. Damian's kitten-like eyes were wide, and he could see a hint of fear in them. Damian was extremely adorable, especially when he got like this which was, thankfully, not very often. It was cute moments like these that showed the Realm that Damian lived up to his nickname, "The Kitten Prince." Though, Richard hadn't been called "Daddy" by him in quite a while.

"Dami?" He asked softly. "What's wrong, son?"

"Please don't make me go..." The teen hung his head, clinging to his father's arm.

Richard sighed worriedly, now concerned for his son. He walked over to his throne, his son trailing behind, and sat down, lifting his arm just a bit so that Damian didn't have to bend down—but Damian appeared to have other ideas.

The King blinked in shock as his son crawled up onto his lap, just like he'd done when he was smaller—and the King realized that, really, Damian didn't seem to have gotten any heavier. The Kitten Demon was unbelievably light, almost to a point where Richard would be worried for his health if he hadn't known it was one of the perks of being a half magical Cat Demon.

"D-Damian?" Richard stuttered as the teen—he was really just a big child at this point—curled up into a ball and clenched the front of his tunic, burying his face into the soft fabric. "Don't make me go back." He cried.

Richard was very worried, now. He wrapped his arms around his boy and bit his lip. His son was crying, why was he crying? He'd never acted like this before, not at this age, at least. And what did he mean about going back? As far as he knew, Damian had never...

Oh.

Oh.

"Oh, Dami, I'm sorry." Richard sighed, hugging the shaking teen gently. "I know you don't like it there, but we made sure that the people who had hurt you are gone now! It's safe to go back, I promise."

"No! No," Damian breathed in. "There's more of them, there's more! Those Magical Humans, they're the one who gave me to the mean Humans! They could do it again! Please don't make me go there! Somewhere else, pick somewhere else!"

Richard's shoulders slumped. He really didn't want to do his. He knew why Damian was so frightened of the Human world; he had nothing but terrible memories of pain and hurt there. They had given him nightmares every single night without fail for the first six years he'd been in the Demon Realm, and they were still, sadly, not uncommon. If he were to go back to that particular Realm, Richard was sure he'd have terrors every night.

"I am truly sorry for this, my son." He felt Damian take in a deep breath of horror, and he knew that the teen knew what was going to happen next. "But I am afraid that you are the only one for this—"

"No!" Damian's knuckles were turning white. "I don't want any more bad dreams!" He sobbed. "Daddy, please—"

"Damian," Richard's voice was hard, but inside he was hurting. "That is my final decision. You'll be departing for the Human Realm in three days time. I suggest you go prepare." His tone spoke for him, saying that there was absolutely no room for any argument.

Damian stilled and grew silent. Richard closed his eyes and bowed his head, waiting for the teen's reaction.

Except... there wasn't one. Damian released his shirt, and stood up, his face shadowed by his bangs. Richard watched him leave the throne room in silence, concern shining in the Demon King's eyes. "I'm sorry, Dami..." Richard bowed is head, clenching his fists. Why couldn't the Human's just take care of themselves? But it was in the Demon code: If any race of the Humans found out about the Demon Realm on their own and asked for aid, the Demons were obligated to help them, no matter the situation. It was one of the rules Richard most despised. At least they were allowed choose the side they wanted to help once they were notified and requested in a war.

He felt a hand touch his arm, and looked up to see Caden staring down at him, a sad look in his eyes. "Are you alright, sir?" He whispered, frowning.

Richard shook his head and sighed into his hands. "I'm more worried about Damian. Do you think he'll be okay?"

Caden stood up. "Damian can take care of himself quite well, sir. I wouldn't be too concerned for him. He'll figure something out."

The King looked up slowly. "Truly?"

"Cross my heart, hope to die, a needle in my eye and roasted alive." Caden told him solemnly, reciting a vow from their childhood.

Richard cracked a smile.

:Eleven Years Earlier:

-Somewhere in Britain, Human Realm-

"My youthful body," The Dark Lord breathed, examining his hands which were, thanks to the curse one of his followers had just lifted from him, no longer tight, gaunt or sickly. "At last..."

"My lord," The Death Eater, Trey, bowed. "Shall I call in our forces?" Trey had only graduated from Hogwarts a few years before, but he was now in the Inner Circle of Voldemort's most loyal. He was extremely polite, almost like a butler, and Voldemort—well, Tom—liked to keep him close by.

"Hm..." Tom mused, tapping his chin, before moving his hands to brush across his cheek, then his nose, which was, thank God, all there. "Yes, I think that would be most satisfactory. But no need, Trey. I'll do it myself..." He pushed up the sleeve of his black robes, and pressed a finger against the Dark Mark that was burned there. It hadn't really been necessary to don the Mark himself, but he hadn't wanted his Death Eaters to be alone—getting the mark hurt, and he wasn't a sadist, really. No matter what that old fool Dumbledore was telling the Wizarding World.

He looked up when he heard a sudden cracking sound, and watched as his Death Eaters apparated into the room one by one. The shocked expressions on his followers faces were priceless. Only those in his his Inner Circle were able to composed themselves quickly after; but even Lucius Malfoy had been shocked enough to let his mask slip. Tom watched the proceedings gleefully. A Malfoy was very hard to shock and he mentally congratulated himself on a job well done.

"Now that all most of our comrades have arrived," He spoke, once they were silent and had gathered around him in a large number, "I believe it is time for a short, hm, explanation?" He raised an eyebrow, and most nodded shakily, but others looked on without responding. So he went on. "Quite a long time ago, on the night that crooked old man, Dumbledore, " he said the name with venom, and many, if not all, the people in the room sneered distastefully, "murdered our brother and sister, James and Lily Potter, then stole their child, the old coot spoke a heavy curse onto me as I attempted to rescue them, imprisoning me in that horrid form you've come to view as your lord."

He shook his head. "It has taken some years, and much hard work for my distant cousin, Trey," He nodded in the young adult in question, who nodded back solemnly. It was no lie. He'd found out that Trey was the grandnephew of his aunt, on his father's side, a few years before Trey had been admitted into Hogwarts, and was able to spare the boy's mind from any manipulations that "old coot" could muster up. "—but we were able, tonight, to bring me back to my form before that fateful night. This is me," he motioned to himself, and watched as the Death Eaters nodded, "and no other, I assure you."

The men and women in the room looked satisfied, so he continued. "Now that I have gotten over that despicable curse, there are many things that need to be sorted out. Firstly, we must liberate our brothers and sisters from their sentence to Azkaban. Those fools need to realize I was never gone."

As his followers and friends cheered, Tom raised a hand to dismiss them from the short meeting. "Henry," He called McNair. The man turned. "I've chosen you to gather the raids for the prison break. Choose your groupings wisely, and be ready to leave and lead them to victory by sundown next Thursday. " The undercover Ministry worker grinned, nodding, before leaving to do his new and welcomed task.

Tom then turned to Lucius Malfoy, who stood beside him. "Lucius, please tell me what I wish to know."

His friend nodded.

"What, honestly, happened that night?"

The blond haired man paled, then frowned angrily. "We don't know who exactly attacked the Potters, but the wizarding world blames you, my lord. We know their son is alive, as do you, but Dumbledore has taken him somewhere we cannot penetrate. We presume the attack was ordered by Dumbledore," here, he sneered, "because we know for certain he found out James and Lily were in your Inner Circle. That is all we've managed to gather, besides the assumption that their son is hidden somewhere in the Muggle World."

"Well done Lucius, at least we have a place to start searching, Dumbledore will pay for this. He probably wanted to use the boy against us in the future somehow." Tom mused, fingering his robes while a frown marred his handsome face. He sent a sharp look toward the blond man "Eleven years from now—when will the boy receive his Hogwarts letter?"

"His birthday is the 31st of October, my lord." Lucius replied. "On Halloween. The same night as the attack, as it happens. Though, Dumbledore has somehow managed to change the birth records at the Ministry to the 31st of July, so he shall most likely receive his letter then, when he is legally eleven years of age."

Tom considered this information. "At this..." He said. "Well then, Thank you, Lucius. You may go. Severus!" He called to his other friend as the blond man bowed and left the room. "Come here a moment."

Severus Snape, Potion's Master of the Dark side, whose apprentice just-so-happened to be one Trey Campbell(Riddle, but that wasn't the name on Ministry records), longtime friend of Lily Evan-Potter, and undercover spy of the Dark Lord Voldemort, stood up from his seat in the black leather chair in the sitting room and came over. "Yes, Tom?" Severus questioned. He was Tom's best friend, as it happened, and had such pleasures as calling the Dark Lord by his true name.

"I want you to keep your post at Hogwarts, keep incognito, try getting the Dark Arts (Defense) position, while secretly giving me more information. You have been a fantastic help so far."

"Thanks," Severus smiled. "I'll try my best."

Tom patted his longtime friend on the arm. "I'm so sorry, my friend, that I could not get to Godric's Hollow sooner. I could have stopped—"

Severus cut him off quickly; yet another one of his privileges as the lord's best friend. "No need to apologize, Tom. I know it wasn't your fault. Don't blame yourself, please. I'm sure Lily would have said the same. And James, as well."

"Alright," Tom nodded, smiling sadly. "I won't. Promise."

Severus smiled and left through the parlor door.

Tom sat back in his seat, thinking. "After the raid, the Dark side will Declare war on the Light. Dumbledore's actions will not go unpunished." He clenched his fist, sighing. "Do not fear, Harry Potter. I'll avenge your parent's deaths, and reveal that old coot's true colors to the world."

:Six Years Ago:

-Hogwarts, Headmaster's Office, Great Britain, Human Realm-

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore sat in his office, frowning down at the unopened envelope that lay on his desk before him. All the owls sent to invite Harry Potter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry had been unable to locate the boy, and the letters returned unopened. It almost seemed as if he had vanished of the face of the earth. Or he might be dead. It really was time to just give up, then? Best not to think about that, he needed that boy, all his plans to use the boy as a tool against Voldemort depended on him being loyal to the Light. And to do that, Dumbledore needed him here, at the school where he could manipulate him. Perhaps he needed to search a replacement of the boy savior? But the only other boy born the date the prophecy specified was the Longbottom heir, and Neville didn't seem to be... efficient, for the job. Maybe he could use the youngest Weasley boy. He was, after all, born on the same day as Potter. Or the day Potter was thought to be born. July 31st.
But first he would have to inform the world that the boy-who-lived was missing. A task he didn't look forward to. The elder wizard sighed, before reaching for a spare page of parchment, and opening a fresh inkwell.

:The next day:
-The Daily Prophet-

The following day the Daily Prophet printed an article about Harry Potter. News about the Dark side's newest raid on Ministry archives went unnoticed next to this astonishing news that affected both sides of the Magical war. In various ways; most still unknown

Harry Potter: Missing!

Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived has gone missing, as of yesterday, August 1st. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had placed the boy with his remaining blood relatives (Muggles), and reports that the letters of admittance are unable to reach the boy.
After Aurors arrived at N°4 Privet Drive, where young Harry was supposed to live, they found no sign the boy had ever lived there. Aurors that questioned the neighbors were appalled to find that the Muggles hadn't even filed a missing child report. They did however confirm that the boy was in the Muggle's custody until a few months before his fifth birthday. Apparently, he ran away.
Rita Skeeter, reporter for the Daily Prophet, asks herself this question: Why? Why would the boy would run off? Was he unhappy? Or perhaps abused? After seeing the past workings of the Muggle family for herself, this reporter could understand that, yes, the boy had been hurt by the family many times, if not daily. If he was indeed abused, then why did our esteemed headmaster Albus Dumbledore do nothing? Surely he checked up on our savior during multiple occasions. But what if he didn't? Another thing that comes to light in this tragic situation is that, strangely, the staff of the Muggle Child Protective Services who had checked on Potter's home environment were found to be memory charmed repeatedly about the very subject of Harry Potter, for when they were asked about the now missing boy, they had no answer's whatsoever. "Our Ministry Obliviators casted a few spells to find out why this was," says Ministry worker Amanda Roberts, head of the Obliviation Department, when questioned about this detail, "and they reported that there were multiple Memory Charms that had been distributed by an unknown castor."
We then later find that the Muggle family young Potter was entrusted to had been murdered in their own home. According to the Muggle authorities, this occurred not one day after Potter disappeared. Were the killings committed by the same person who obliviated the Muggle CPS staff?
Who was this mysterious witch or wizard? What connection did they have to Harry Potter, The Boy-Who-Lived? Where are they now? Where is
Potter now?
All those questions makes this reporter believe that, maybe, Albus Dumbledore isn't as careful as we think he is. We at the Daily Prophet hope desperately that Harry Potter is in good hands, and pray for his safe return.

:5:37, Present Time:

-Unnamed corridor, Southern Wing #7, Palace Voidsurfer, Demon Realm-

Damian walked out of his room. Well, one of them. He had a lot... He hadn't really spoken to anyone since the moment his father had ordered him back to the Human Realm. Why had he, though? Surly there were others who could have done the job...weren't there? He wasn't the only negotiator in the Realm, was he? His father was practically forcing him to go... And he really, really, really didn't want to. Hadn't his father always said he'd never send him back there? And look, here he was, doing just that! He'd thought his father truly cared for him...

No, no, don't think like that, Damian! He chided himself, feeling miserable. He totally does! Bet he just forgot and all, right? It has been rather long since you came home from those nasty Humans. Yeah, he probably just forgot...

But why, then? From what happened earlier, Richard soon remembered why Damian was afraid of the Human Realm. And he sent him anyway?

"Fear musn't get in the way of work." He mused silently as he walked down the corridor to the front gates of the Palace. Isn't that what Caden's always spewing?

He let out a long, dramatic sounding sigh, tail swishing behind him as he reached the gate and donned a black, hooded cloak. He could hide his tail, and ears, like he did his claws, but he really didn't want to. They were comfortable, he'd feel weird without them.

He reached up to heft the hood up over his eyes, but ended up petting his ears instead. They hadn't risen up from their spot, lying flat against his hair in a sad way, since he'd gotten the mission. Both hands tugged on them, and he lifted his eyes to the ceiling, exasperated. "Nyan!~" He cried, sitting down on the ground. Seriously, just think of it as another mission, it's just another mission...

"Damian?" A voice called out, sounding confused. "My Prince, why are you on the ground?"

He looked up with those golden eyes of his. "Caden! Hi, what are you doing here?" He tilted his head to the side.

The Commander ruffled his hair, and Damian's tail shot straight out in a line in his annoyance. "Hey, heyyy, stop it!" He ducked out from the man's hand, and stood up. "What do you want?"

"I came to see you off," the gray-eyed man said, sounding hurt. "Why else would I be here?"

"I don't know," The teen grumbled. "To give me another thing to do, something my dad conveniently forgot to ask me if I wanted to do it beforehand? Again?"

Caden sighed warily, dropping his hand. "Damian, you're dad really cares about you, truly. He wouldn't be sending you anywhere near the Realm if it wasn't for the Demon Rules. You know that."

Damian shrugged. "Sure... Yeah. Whatever. I'm gonna take off now. See you—"

"Damian.." Caden's warned.

The Cat Demon's shoulder slumped. "I... I really don't want to go!" He choked out, his throat tight.

Caden stepped forward and caught the younger Demon in a hug. "I know, Damian. Just... You'll tough it out. I know you."

-Author's Note-

Alright, so I kind of wanted to continue on from there, but I really couldn't figure out a way to, ya know, move it forward without another chapter break. Plus, If I'd written any more, it would be much longer than the last chapter, which makes my minor OCD-ness freak out. It's needs to be EVEN, dammit!*flips table*

Kay, translations:

Salutoj = Greetings.

Um, did I miss anything? Hm.

Oh! And, yes, Trey's most obviously an OC. I like him, Strong silent type... I like those almost as much as I like the brash, loud, and temperamental type. Which is... contradicting... Yeah...

ANYway, please read and review!~ I really like how it's going now, and I want to know if you guys think the same. Is it getting interesting? Did I over-do Dami's cute and adorable-ness? (I don't think so, but I wanna know what YOU think! Cuz I believe Damian should be forever adorable. Though, I believe that ALL my fave characters in all my stories should be that way, so it's sort of a no-brainer. Just look at all my other stories *bangs head into desk* Like, seriously. Get a grip, Scy!) Does it need more "Oomph"? Did I make anyone OOC? Have I cut my chapters too short for comfort? Must I lengthen them, truly? Does anyone think that Esperanto as the Demon's magic language is too cheesy? Should it be something else? Like Latin? But isn't that taken by the Wizarding World already? Will Edward Elric ever become tall? *ducks approaching metal fist* Only one way to find out!

RE-VIEW. Please?

^ ^ Love ya!~

~EpikalStorms*

Next time, on Sors Daemoniorum: Negotiations will be held, and secret code names will be used. Damian remembers that not all humans are bad—but that knee-weakening fear of their race is brought back in full force by a few Irish bastards(no offense to all the Irish out there)! Virtual Reality Gaming? What about Virtual Reality Multi-Media Online Role Play Games? Or VRMMORPG? Sounds fun~