There's only so much abuse and hurt a five year old can take. Especially if that child had given up on safety and hope a long time ago. Anyone would be sad to hear such things, they wouldn't want to believe it, really. They'd probably just brush it off, do their best to look in the other direction, and walk away—they don't want it to be their problem, their business. They don't want to hold the burden. Of trying to help the child.
In this case, that child's name—or what everyone seemed to believe his name was—is Harry James Potter. Except... it's not. Anyone else would be confused, anyone else would ignore it. Anyone else wouldn't put themselves in a position to be blamed for all the horrible things that had happened to this Harry Potter. Apparently, the Dursleys were anything but anyone else.
Poor, poor Harry Potter was beaten daily; starved, labored, neglected, ignored—and he was only five years old. But this seemed not to bother Vernon, Petunia, or even their own child, Dudley. And the neighbors turned blind eyes—and the rest of the people who had the unlucky misfortune to set eyes on the malnourished, skinny, underweight form of the child called Harry Potter turned blind eyes. Even those who were expected—suppose—to be looking out for the child, those who were believed to be concerned for his well being, turned blind eyes. They all turned blind eyes to the horrid life this one Harry Potter, this one five-year-old child was subjected to—
These humans were truly despicable.
It finally—finally—came to a point where, frankly, this child called Harry Potter had had enough of this horrendous fate.
-No.4 Privet Drive, Uptown London, Great Britain, Human Realm-
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. He'd no longer be smacked around; he wouldn't be thrown into walls, or stuck inside a dark, musty cupboard under the stairs whenever they were through with him. They wouldn't report him missing, anyway. Like they cared whether he was alive, or dead. Wherever he was, whatever happened to him, well good riddance—is what they'd believe.
He wasn't rightly prepared for the world, however. Who would be? He'd never been out there—as if the Dursley's would dare to take such a sight out in public with them. He didn't know how dirty, how tough, life on the streets would be. So he walked; for days; he hiked down dirt roads billowing with dust and sand. He ran down cobblestone alleyways and concrete stretches until finally—about time—he reached downtown London.
This is the part of the story most of our kind dub the End of The Child Known as Harry Potter. And, as everyone knows—or should know, in the least—, with every end comes a new beginning. With Harry Potter's, or the child who was known as such, at least, end came the beginning of a child known as—
That's getting ahead of the story. Let's just start with Harry Potter's End.
As the child—Harry Potter, right now—slowly stumbled down the main street of London, he bumped into something tall, something solid, something much larger than he himself. And when he looked up, Harry Potter met the dark gray eyes of the man who would end his silly name.
"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—"
The man laughed deeply, waving a black gloved hand dismissively—but his eyes were shielded, showing less mirth than he was expressing. They were sharp, and analyzing the child as he spoke. "No need, child! I was being quite careless myself..." He frowned, looking the young five-year-old over. "You seem... quite worse for wear..."
The child shifted uneasily, taking a small, almost unseen step backwards—but the man's sharp gaze caught his wariness. He recognized the signs, of course. "What is your name, young one?"
The child swallowed thickly. "Harry Potter, sir." He shifted once more. "D-Do I know you?"
"No," the man shook his head. "I don't suppose you'd recognize me now, but I knew your parents, and my lor—my employer," he stressed the word slightly,"—has been searching for you for quite some time now."
"What for?" The child—Harry, for now—tilted his head curiously. Someone knew his parents!
"Well, because you are his—heir." The man's shook his head. "I'd like to explain to you the details, child, but the story behind them is rather long. Why don't we go someplace else, where we can discus this matter further, over food perhaps? Richard knows you could use it." He cast a rather pointed look at the child's thin form.
"... Ok..." The child admonished, narrowing his eyes slightly as he gazed up at the man. "But no funny business. I can scream very loud." He warned. Food was indeed welcome...
The man nodded, slightly pitying in his gaze. Soon, child and adult walked side by side, entering the door of a rather secluded restaurant where even the child knew they wouldn't get very many strange looks.
"What's your name?" The child inquired, as they sat down. That was when the man took the time to look his new companion over fully. The child—Harry Potter, right now—wasn't very dirty—par say. His clothing was quite dusty, however. He wore a long sleeved dark green shirt under a gray sweatshirt that was a bit baggy. He was also dressed in nondescript dark blue jeans that gathered a bit at his ankles over five-year-old sized black boots. His black hair was dusty as well, and hung a bit limply in his bright green eyes. The man caught a glance of a faded lightning-shaped scar that ran right before the hairline on the right side of his forehead, and there was a smudge of dirt on his left cheek.
"I am Caden Lightbane." He answered, after a moment. The child was silent, but he nodded. Neither spoke for a while, even when the waitress brought over their orders. Finally, as the child—Harry—began to shovel down the food, the man—Caden—began his explanation.
"I am second in command to King Richard of the Demon Realm, the Commander of his Armies, and Court Advisor," He started, smiling when the child threw him a slightly disbelieving glance, then continuing. "In the that realm, which is where we both hail from, the Demon King is subjected to a slight curse, if you will. He cannot produce male heirs, only females, daughters. This has been true for every Demon King for many, many generations. As such, each Demon King, or Prince(which is what you are, child) is half human, their mother's coming from the realm we are in now. Your mother was a witch, with magical blood, though she was unable to become pregnant by her husband. So the King proposed a deal. Your mother would be able to get a son, but the child would be part demon and later taught demon magic in our Realm. Your mother agreed to this proposal. You were born, and it was found out that, due to half your DNA coming from a witch, you are more powerful than other heirs to the Demon throne. Your real name, the one given to you by your true parents, is not Harry James Potter, but Prince Damian Conrad Voidsurfer." The child was surprised, eyes widening.
"You mean..." He began.
Caden nodded. "Yes. Harry Potter was a quick alias your stepfather, James, penned for your safety. You were originally supposed to keep this alias until my lord, King Richard sent for you to begin your training, but..." At this, Caden closed his eye and bowed his head slightly forward.
The child—no. Now this is the beginning we were speaking of before. This is now Prince Damian Voidsurfer. The child called Harry Potter is no more. Damian frowned nervously, apprehensive as to what was next to be told. "Why, what happened?"
Caden shook his head, sitting up, and continued on with his story. "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. Wizards believe it was Voldemort, the Dark Lord but we think it was someone else." Caden explained, happy to notice that, while the child before him still held an air of incredulity, his expression was one of acceptance an understanding. For a five-year-old, he was rather brilliant actually.
"So..." The child frowned, concentrating and trying to understand further. "You're a Demon, I'm half Demon, half Magical, and I, technically, still have a father?" He seemed bewildered by the sudden flood of information
Caden nodded. "Indeed." This boy had sharp wits, he'd give him that. "Would you like to meet him?"
Damian's eyes widened. "I-I can do that? I can see him?"
Caden smiled, sighing slightly. "But of course, my Prince. He is your father, no? In fact, I am sure he cannot wait a single moment more to meet you." With this Caden stood and, while Damian smiled happily as those words sunk in, held out a hand to his young companion. "Now, would you?"
"Yes!" Damian nodded furiously. "Yes, yes, yes! I mean," He admonished, calming slightly. "i would, very much so."
Caden held back a chuckle. "Very well. Grab my hand; it will be quick, I assure you—"
The dark haired man payed the bill, and led the child—Damian—outside, casting a glance around before moving into a nearby alleyway. With one more quick look at their surroundings, He held Damian close to his chest and, with a whirlwind of shadows and a small flash of red lights, the two vanished.
This is the beginning of the story of Prince Damian Conrad Voidsurfer. Harry Potter is no more.
-Daescon Uo(city), Demon Realm:
The Demon Realm was not a connection of dark, dank caves but was actually very nice. There were woodlands stretching as far as the eye could see, lakes and mountains and plain open fields. For each type of demon there was a natural habitat. In the center of the Realm, the Royal city was located. There the Palace of Kings could be found which consisted of a central courtyard with several wings (1). Lush gardens surrounded the Palace and it was littered with fountains and hidden passage ways.
Caden appeared with his companion near a large, dark green leaves bush that was laden with blood red, bright lavender, and peach-colored blossoms. This was towards the center of a rather large garden in one of the eastern wings. Now, Damian was finally able to gather a good, long look at the man. Caden was tall, with tanned skin, dark black hair held in a low ponytail, and dark gray eyes that sparkled brightly. He wore a tight black vest over his bare chest, which ripples with muscle, and you could clearly see the tribal-like tattoos which wound their way around his biceps and abdomen. His loose black trousers were tucked into military style black boots, and a silver belt laden with all sorts of weapons hung tightly around his waist.
Caden motioned for Damian to follow him and began walking briskly down the grassy path towards the majestic white palace that loomed over the whole grounds. 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."
Damian glanced down with excitement twinkling in his emerald eyes. "How come nobody noticed all those knives and swords in London?" He asked, curious.
Caden adjusted Damian in his arms and smiled. "It's Demon Magic. I put a vision block on myself before going to the Human Realm. Almost like those Magical Human's "notice-me-not charms." The man made a face at the wizards' choice of title, and Damian giggled. "You'll be learning something of the sort, I believe, during your training."
"Really?" The boy tilted his head, eyes wide. "Oh, cool! I can't wait!"
Caden flashed another smile at the young Prince, before stepping out of the garden's gate and into a long, ridiculously clean, white-stone paved street that bustled with activity. (2)
All life seemed to freeze as the people—demons, they were demons—caught sight of Caden. They moved to the side of the street silently, and bowed deeply.
""All hail Commander Caden Lightbane!"" echoed loudly through the streets as Caden nodded once, then continued on. Damian was slightly unnerved by this display, but decided not to break the silence by voicing his thoughts now.
The stares of the inhabitants of the Demon Realm were only cut off when Caden entered the palace doors. As they closed behind them, Damian was relieved to find that the servants that surrounded them didn't let their looks linger—as such, they saw them, acknowledged them, and were on their way.
"Let's get you cleaned up before we meet your father, yes?" Caden mused, setting the child in his arms down on the thickly carpeted floor once they had entered a large room somewhere on the second floor of a western wing.
Damian nodded silently, and watched as the servant that Caden had ushered in after them before closing the door drew a bath in the white marble tub—it didn't look like a tub to him. It looked more like a miniature swimming pool. The scent of peach blossoms wafted up into the air only minutes later, and Damian grinned when he saw how many bubbles floated on the surface of the water. There were even a few blood-red flower petals. It looked... really relaxing—it occurred to him that when a five-year-old was in a situation to think such a thing, things must be bad, but he could really care less right now. The fact that he was actually royalty was just sinking in.
Some time later—Caden seemed highly amused when Damian, to the slight frustration of the servant, refused to get out until he'd popped all of the bubbles—Damian stood on a stool, wearing white boxers and socks, with a very fluffy red towel draped over his head, and watching curiously as the servant—his name was Terry—dived into drawers and wardrobes and closets full of clothes, finally coming out with an outfit in his size. After he'd been dressed, the child looked into the mirror with wide, owlish green eyes. He wore black trousers, boots, and a vest over a blood-red long sleeved tunic that had a slight turtleneck. Terry was just fastening on a simple, gold, chain link necklace when Damian frowned, staring at himself in the mirror. "Caden, why am I all blurry?"
Caden's brows were brought together in confusion. Blurry? What... "Oh, right! I almost forgot to take your glamour off!" He snapped his fingers, smiling.
Damian blinked, turning to look at him with bog curious green eyes. "Glamour?"
Caden nodded, taking in a breath. He concentrated on Damian, before speaking. "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—it was straight, manageable(Terry noted with relief), sleek and silky. Damian let out a small squeak, and Caden noticed his voice had become more innocent sounding—cute, even. The English accent gone, only to be replaced with the accent of the Demon language—all demons had this accent, though it differed from each other, sometimes greatly. Damian's accent sounded like a waterfall, somehow. A waterfall of honey. Which was weird. Since honey waterfalls didn't make any sounds—he should know, there were plenty of them in the gardens. That's just what this child's voice would remind you of.
Damian golden eyes were wide, and he was clutching at Caden's pant leg, staring back at the mirror as if it had just kicked a puppy or something. "Wh-What was that?" He asked, voice shaken.
Caden reached down a lifted the boy up into his arms once again. "This is what you really look like. Glamours change your appearance. You'll learn how to cast them in... perhaps three years or so. They're very simple Demon Magic, though the one cast on you was a bit more complicated."
Damian nodded, loosening his tight grip on Caden's shirt. "What was that weird stuff you were saying before, though?" He yawned.
"Esperanto." Caden replied. "The basis language of Demon Magic. We were actual the ones to invent that language..." He sighed, shaking his head. "Well are you ready to meet your father now?" He asked, looking down at Damian, who was resting his head on his broad shoulder, eyes closed.
"Mhm..." Damian hummed some sort of affirmative, before letting out a kitten-like yawn.
Caden smiled, watching the child fall asleep. "Well, then. Let's go."
And he walked down the large corridors, towards the throne room where King Richard Voidsurfer sat in wait.
The Throne Room, Palace Voidsurfer, Demon Realm-
Richard Draken Voidsurfer, King of the Demon Realm, sat on his throne, smiling down at the small child that slept in his lap. Damian was curled in a ball, his head resting against his real father's chest, his small fists clenching the fabric of his cloak.
"How was it?" He asked his Advisor, Commander of his army, and childhood best friend Caden Lightbane. "What happened?"
Caden shook his head, perhaps slightly bemused. "He seems like an, uh, adorable," he coughed," child, truly. He'd polite, and a good listener. I found that he's quite smart, even for his current age. I don't believe, however," here, the man scowled a little, "that the humans were, let's say, treating him gently."
Richard's gaze sharped, and he turned to look his friend in the eye. "How so?"
"I found that he was injured, quite a lot. I didn't like the looks of it, so I healed the wounds—just cuts and bruises from what I saw—while we were walking towards a restaurant to eat. He was very hungry, as well. I don't think they'd been feeding him." Caden frowned sadly, staring down at Damian, who was sleeping peacefully. "I... Forgive me, my lord, but I believe they were abusing him."
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?"
The King nodded, sitting back slowly on his throne. "Indeed. Kill them. Make it look like an accident to sedate the Human authorities, but I want them punished and gone. Is that clear?"
Caden smirked, saluting. "Crystal, my lord. What of their own child?"
"Leave him be, I'm sure the government will take care of him" the King shook his head. "His parent's actions are in no way his own fault."
"Understood." Caden nodded sharply, before progressing out of the room, letting the large oak doors boom closed behind him.
King Richard's eyes were gentle and filled with guilt and slight sorrow as he gazed down at Damian, who'd shifted at the noise, mumbling something in his sleep. "I'm so, so sorry, my son, for allowing you to be put through such trials. At a young age as this, no less." He sighed deeply, running a hand through the child's soft black locks. "Please, forgive me."
Damian made a soft noise. "...Kay..." He sighed contently, letting his father's cloak go.
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..." He blinked owlishly.
"... Thank you." The King raised his own hand and caught the smaller one, bringing it back down and just holding it. "I do hope you'll like your life here at the palace."
"Why wouldn't I?" Damian seemed truly curious. "It's really nice here. It makes me feel better."
Richard nodded happily. "I'm glad. Are you still tired?"
Damian nodded slowly, eyes fluttering. "Mmm... Yeah. I was walking a...long time...and..." He yawned, shifting closer to the warmth the King's body radiated.
As soon as the child drifted into oblivion, Richards eye hardened once more, and he held Damian tightly. "I will never let that repeat itself, son. You'll never have to walk such distances alone again. I promise."
-No. 4 Privet Drive, Uptown London, England, Human Realm-
Blood was... really red. Redder than the roses in the palace gardens, Caden decided. No matter how many times he saw it, no matter how many times he made it appear, the rich color of the precious liquid never ceased to astound him.
The horizontally challenged young boy that huddled, terrified, in the corner of the tiled kitchen stared at him with wide, frightened eyes. That was fine—he would have been slightly worried if the child wasn't scared. He had just slaughtered his parents.
Ah well. Not his problem. Prince Damian was safe now. These vile creatures would hurt him no longer. Never again.
He reached for the cloth tucked into his belt and wiped his blade clean, before sheathing it and putting the cloth away once more. He surveyed the scene one last time, eyes sweeping over the whole picture. The severely mangled bodies of two adults, positioned neatly underneath the sharp blades of the large, fallen ceiling fan—people really needed to put safety thing son those. They could kill someone—the puddles of blood just under the corpse, signifying the crash landing into the carpet. The small trail of the red smudges that led to the kitchen, where the child was curled up in the corner, showing that he'd crawled away, before passing out from blood loss—Caden hit the boy in the head with the hilt of his dagger just seconds ago, making sure to hit hard enough for minimal memory loss(he just had to forget these recent events. It wouldn't do for the humans, non-magical no less, to catch evidence of Demon existence)—and shattered glass littering the floors, from the light bulb that had been attached to the fan.
All in all, it was a pretty good job, if he had any say in it.
(1) Think Versailles in France. Yeah, like that. Pretteh ^ ^
(2) It's like Diagon Alley, only more clean, more spacious, and more awesome. I just didn't wanna add the details, or describe it, so yeah.
Here's the translations for the Esperanto: The haze of our vision be banished, let the true form come forth for all to see.
-_- This story is... not starting out very well, is it? All well. I read a similar idea by another author who, sadly, never finished it, so I took the idea upon myself, changed it drastically, and this popped up.
I hope it's okay. I have a lot of other stories going on right now, GAH, I shouldn't have started this yet *sigh* Ah well. At least it's up there now. Please review! I want to know how I did so I can continue this! I've always hated the name Harry, anyways. Damian's SO much cooler. And cute, too. I really like this.. Please review and tell me if you do!
Thanks. ^ ^
Next time, on Sors Daemoniorum: We see Damian, sixteen year old, heartbreaking Prince of the Demon Realm, in all his glory. What is Damian's Deon type? And what's all this about a war between Light and Dark Wizards of Britain, in the Human Realm? Do I have to go, Dad? Dear old Dumbles alerts the world of one M.I.A. Harry Potter, while Voldemort gets steps up to the plate.