Disclaimer: I own nothing. Nothing but the plot :D Prequel to Sinner, Savior.

Author's Note: Chapters have POVs of certain characters try and figure out which is think what :)

Family, Friends

By Dracrashed

As two young second years accompanied by a seventh year boy made their way to enter the Headmaster's office, two seventh years take their seats in the said office. All of the older children wearing solemn expressions. As if expecting bad news, the news of a dead relative, parents, siblings, aunts, uncles and other extended family members alike.

The door creaked open. Two children walked in, both trying to hide their fear, upholding their hostile expressions toward each other. The girl, had brown curls, rather long for her small form, her blue-green eyes, filled with mixed emotions. The two boys had black hair with startling blue eyes that were vaguely similar to the girl's.

The older boy, casually made his way to take a seat beside a blonde male seventh year who was sitting in a midnight blue armchair, his elbows on his knees, his hands nervously running through his silver-blonde hair. A brown-haired, brown-eyed girl sat beside him, leaning in her own armchair, chewing on her bottom lip, her familiar brown eyes, anxious to receive the news. Head Boy and Girl, Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, his bestfriend and Hermione Granger,Gryffindor's pride and joy, their little, princess, the know-it-all who got hot, so she was dubbed. Both looking at their worst, dressed in their pajamas, tousle-haired but fully awake, no thanks to the harsh lighting in the office.

What could Dumbledore possibly want at this time of night? Surely, it was an emergency... not even the old kook would wake up at this ungodly hour for nothing! Oh god, what if..

The possibilities were endless.

Blaise Zabini gazed over to where his younger brother was seated in front of the desk with their sister. Of course, no one knew of young Isobel Brady. But there were a lot of reasons for that. Being muggleborn for one was a reason. Blaise, however, the oldest of the two Zabini heirs, knew there was a third.

He was 5 years old when Devon was born. He entered his parents room that night to see his mother, his father crouched in front of him, carrying a pink bundle. Even for a five year old, Blaise had as much intelligence as a nine year old.

'Blaise, this is your little sister. I want you to remember this moment for ever because one day when you find her and you have to explain to your brother. One day you'll have to explain why we had to give her to someone else.' He had said.

With that, the man left, leaving his son in tears.

Blaise ran to his mother's side and asked her for a reason. She explained and told him the details to look out for.

The Dark Lord had already fallen during that time but the Death Eaters were still trying to recruit. After failing in doing so they tried moulding their children into future Death Eaters. With nobody to stop this, so they did but the Zabini's' had had a little girl knowing what would become of their precious gem, they gave her away in hopes she'd be raised in a caring environment. They raised Blaise and Devon as caringly as they could. Telling them to act cold outside their home.

It worked. Fellow Death Eaters never even suspected.

Isobel Zabini was never found out, she also never knew her real family till a year ago. Unknowingly she had been at loggerheads with her by-a-minute younger brother. He rolled his eyes as Devon glared at Isobel.

Yep, it was sibling rivalry alright.

Albus Dumbledore solemnly gazed at the three adolescents. He had watched them grow into capable adults from competing, bratty kid staged to tall, gangly and pimply teenage phases. Yet, he felt it unfair that they had faced far more than normal (as normal as an of age witch and/or wizard can be, that is) teenager should have.

The Zabini's were good people. Misunderstood was all. Mixed with the wrong side with no way of turning back. It was such a pity.

Pity.

If more wizards and witches had it this so called war that was over their heads would never come to happen. Blasted wizard pride. That, and their worthless blood purity.

Sighing, Dumbledore began what he called the students to his office for as a tall figure entered his office quietly and stood watching in the shadows.