Summary: In the wizarding world, the Zabini's were commonly associated with three labels: pure-blood, rich, and neutral. However, if one were to research further into the mystery that is the Zabini family, another such label would be revealed. Magical prowess. (See more in my bio)

PS: I wrote this first part of the chapter a while back. Please don't judge the story just yet (the second chapter is ten times better)


Sunlight streamed through the stained glass windows of the library, casting about colorful yet somber shades of light. The deep burgundy arm-chair beside the small table was currently occupied by one Blaise Zabini.

Peck peck peck

Blaise pulled his head from his book and marking his place in the book, slowly sauntered over to the window. The pompous gray owl stuck out its leg, presenting a Hogwarts letter. Untying the letter, Blaise cast the bird back out the window. Slipping his finger under the Hogwarts seal, he tilted the envelope, a shiny badge dropping into his hand. Smirking knowingly to himself he flipped the badge over, Head Boy.

A quiet pop alerted him of Nealy's presence. Ignoring the house-elf for a moment, Blaise quickly skimmed the letter. After deciding that there was nothing there of dire importance he pocketed the letter and spared Nealy a glance.

"Mistress Zabini is calling young Master Zabini for dinner." Nealy squeaked out, hands tightly clutching her small green gown.

Though the Zabini's were not extraordinarily kind to their house-elves, they also did not dress the creatures in torn pillow cases as the Malfoy's did. Mistress Zabini, a lady of class and simple elegance, refused to have dirty house-elves plodding around her house in repulsive clothing.

In most ways, the Zabini's were a typical Slytherin family. Often overlooked by the politically active Malfoy's, the family was quite pleased to be left in the shadows. As the saying goes, attention invites trouble.


"Good to see that Dumbledore hasn't completely lost it." His father said once he caught sight of the sparkling badge in his son's hands.

Blaise nodded and piled some more potatoes on his plate. He had been the clear candidate for the position. Blaise was the top wizard in the school and one of Slytherin's best keepers of all time; Dumbledore would have been a fool not to have chosen him.

"No doubt, Draco Malfoy would have been expecting the badge. After all, his father has bought him everything else." Blaise's mother, Helena, said contemptuously. Blaise suppressed a laugh; his mother's respect for the Malfoy's knew no bounds.

Suddenly the mood of the room changed, his father had put down his fork and was staring intensely at his son. About time, Blaise thought to himself, his birthday was only hours away.

"We have properly warded the spare bedroom for your use tonight. You'll be sleeping there." His father said bluntly.

Blaise frowned, "I should think that wards around my normal bed would be en-"

"Trust me son, it would be better if you slept in the spare bedroom tonight. The additional wards that our ancestors have set up in that room can only help your Awakening."

Blaise nodded in acceptance. "I understand. One cannot be too careful in times like these."


Slipping into his Slytherin green night-shorts, Blaise climbed into bed. In minutes, sleep overcame his anxiety.

There was a knock on the door and Helena entered, wrinkling her nose at the dusty smell of the room. At the sight of her son, her expression softened. Compassion flickered for a moment in her eyes as she brushed her lips against her son's forehead.

Braeden Zabini slipped into the room after his wife. Laying a hand on her shoulder he studied his son's peaceful resting form. With tidy brown hair, deep hazel eyes, and an admirable physique, he knew that all the pureblood families would soon be clamoring to claim Blaise as their son-in-law. With a small burst of pride, Braeden uncharacteristically reached out and rested his hand on Blaise's forehead.

Suddenly Blaise's eyes shot open and his breath became ragged. His body twitched for a moment then stilled. Blinking his grainy eyes, he laid his hand over his thumping heart.

"Does it hurt?" his mother whispered.

He looked up and shook his head at his parents, "No, just… surprised." He smiled uncertainly, "It wasn't as bad as you made it out to be father."

Braeden did not return the smile, instead glanced at his watch and hurried out the room. "Something's not right", he muttered as he pushed open the doors of his study. He hastened to the bookshelf and pulled out a few books, banging them on his desk. Sporadically flipping through the books, Braeden Zabini stole a few harried glances at the clock, 11:58 PM.

He turned to his father's notebook and quickly ran his finger down the Table of Contents. "Wards, wards, wards!" he whispered frantically to himself, practically tearing the book apart in his haste to turn to the right page. After locating the spell of interest he ran back to the spare bedroom, knocking over several antique vases and statues in his race against time.

Just as he threw open the door a flash a pure magic blasted him into the corridor. They watched in horror as Blaise's body convulsed, his face contorting from indescribable pain. The light enveloping his son, threw his wife against the wall, blood dripping from the side of her mouth. He scrambled to Helena, pointing frantically for her to read the spell in the book.

She nodded and together they pulled out their wands and chanted the incantation. Within seconds the light withdrew inside their son's body, leaving Blaise gasping for breath. "What the h-" he began hoarsely when the sounds of multiple apparations interrupted him.

Braeden leaned over and surprised Blaise by kissing his sweaty forehead. Brushing the hair off Blaise's face Braeden Zabini said shakily, "It's not over yet son." Then grasping his wife's hand, he channeled some of her energy to make the room sound-proof.

"We'll deal with them son." Helena sighed softly. "Whatever happens, you have to stay in this room Blaise. Even if something horrible has happened… you have to protect yourself. Don't let yourself be caught Blaise, be-"

"Helena." Braeden urgently motioned for her to join him. Then they quickly situated themselves in the living room. It wasn't long before a hoard of cloaked wizards stormed into the room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Zabini, a pleasure." Hissed a cold voice. Zabini drew his wife in protectively beside him.

"I must demand that you leave immediately" he replied equally frigidly. "You are trespassing on private property."

The Death-Eaters regrouped themselves behind their Master. Pale faces leering menacingly at the couple. "Now, Braeden, show some hospitality. We were in the neighborhood and decided to pay you a visit."

Voldemort twirled his wand between his fingers, never breaking eye contact with Braeden Zabini. "We were hoping that you would have finally come to you senses and stop supporting the idiot Dumbledore."

"You know very well that our loyalties do not lie with the light." Helena spoke boldly. Voldemort silenced her with a bone-chilling glare.

Still toying with his wand, Voldemort began conversationally. "I've had my eye on your family for sometime now. Oh by the way, how is your son? Lucius has been telling me so much about him."

Before he could control himself Braeden spat out, "You stay away from my son!"

He raised an eyebrow at the outburst and smirked. He continued as though uninterrupted, "Would you believe that my wards registered an unusual influx of magical energy tonight? What do you have to explain for that?"

Braeden flushed angrily, "What I do on my property is none of your business."

Voldemort raised his hand and motioned for his Death Eaters to encircle the couple. Without missing a beat he continued, "I'm fed up with this neutrality of yours Zabini. You'd do well to decide your loyalties now."

Braeden Zabini's eyes unconsciously flickered in the direction of his son's room. Following his gaze Voldemort found himself staring at a set of stairs. "Is there something you'd like to share with us Zabini?"

When he did not reply Voldemort's eyes flashed, "Or perhaps you'd like it better if I found out by myself?" With a fluid motion he reached out and grabbed Braeden by the collar. "You WILL TELL ME WHAT YOU ARE HIDING!" (AN: Ugh lame!)

Zabini pulled himself from Voldemort's grip and this time did not disguise his disgust. "You're messing with the wrong family. Get out now." He said harshly.

From behind he heard someone shout out the Cruciatus curse. In the next instant Helena was writhing uncontrollably on the floor, her screams echoing off the walls. Whipping out his wand he quickly killed the man who dared to hurt his wife. Now under fire from all sides, Braeden spouted off curse after curse, most of them Dark. Though heavily outnumbered, it was still clearly a one sided battle. His sheer magical knowledge and skill slowly wore out his adversaries and he would have won… had it not been for one Lord Voldemort.

When most of his useless Death Eaters had gotten themselves knocked out Voldemort was forced to intervene. He raised his wand, an unforgivable on the tip of his tongue. Swiftly, Helena summoned his wand from across the room after she had dispatched another Death Eater. Before she could react, Lucius Malfoy blasted her with a bludgeoning curse from behind. With a pained cry and a solid thump she was blasted several feet into the air and fell brutally on top of their antique end table. Braeden distractedly continued to fight, anxious to make his way to his motionless wife.

"Helena!" he called out desperately as he saw a deep red pool of blood blossoming from under her body.

Now wandless, Voldemort quickly looked around for a weapon. Seizing a heavy ornamental goblet off the mantel, he clubbed Braeden Zabini in the back of his head.

Braeden froze and swayed for a moment before his wand clattered to the floor from his hands. Grasping the back of his bloody head, he sank to the floor. Voldemort sneered nastily as the fallen wizard gasped for breath, it might have been crude but it had gotten the job done.

Zabini's mind blanked as he pulled his hands out from behind his head and gaped at his blood-soaked fingers. He groaned once, trying to blink away the darkness that was creeping into the sides of his vision. Within seconds, he was unconscious.

Lucius Malfoy gingerly picked up his master's wand from beside the witch. Striding quickly towards Lord Voldemort, he bent on one knee, presenting the wand above his head. Voldemort growled, snatching up his wand, and hissed menacingly to his followers.

"If either of these two so much as move a muscle before I come back…" he left his sentence hanging, sending shudders down the backs of his Death Eaters. They all sank to their knees subserviently, desperate not to be singled out for punishment.

Before Voldemort could make an example of one of his men, the wards around the Zabini house-hold came crashing down. In the pin-drop silence that followed all could hear the sounds of faint moaning.

"Point me: Blaise Zabini." He muttered furiously. Before he could follow in the indicated direction they felt another more obvious ward come down. After quickly deducing that the anti-apparation shield had been removed, Voldemort apparated to his quarry, the final member of the Zabini family.

Blaise panted frantically for breath. The magic that was building inside of him was filling up his every blood vessel, choking the air out of him. He dimly noticed the wards around his room give way to the enormous power that was worming its way inside of him. Then deliberately, he removed the anti-apparation shield, trying to make his escape before the Death Eaters came to get him.

Tripping over the rug in his daze, Blaise scrambled to pick up his robe while blasting his window open with a flick of his wand. Voldemort, having located the room in which Blaise was hiding, stormed into the room, wand aloft. Then swishing his wand in a downward angle, Lord Voldemort erected an apparation shield of his own around the room.

Voldemort leered at the boy, anticipation glowing in his eyes. "Give it up boy." His eyes flashed as he readjusted his grip on his wand.

Zabini froze, warning signals going off madly in his head. Staying silent, he rapidly laid out his escape route. He was enough of a Slytherin to realize that by giving himself up no one would benefit. After all, the Dark Lord had already made up his mind to wipe his entire family out anyway…

Voldemort stared calculatingly at Blaise, taking in everything about his quarry. The sweat rolling off the boy's face and glistening on his bare chest. The silent and balanced breaths that made his chest rise and fall in a steady rhythm. And finally Blaise's hazel eyes… exhaustion, anger and perhaps… pain? Voldemort noted in slight surprise before he pieced the clues together.

The resilience and tenacity that the Zabinis' had exhibited that day had been unnaturally sharp. All the subtle hints dropped by each family member fit together: Braeden's surreptitious glances upstairs; Helena's show of unusual courage; Mr. Zabini's outburst when the topic of his son was brought up. And here, the remnants of several layers of magical wards were hanging tauntingly in the air.

Shifting his eyes back so that they focused themselves piercingly on Blaises' Voldemort whispered knowingly. "Your Awakening I presume? How… quaint."

Magical Awakenings occurred in Pureblood wizards when they turn of age. It was the reason why most Pureblood families safe-guarded their bloodline with their lives. The longer and purer the bloodline, the stronger the magic inherited. But of course, most Purebloods failed to see that one could only use their reservoir of magic if they knew how to access it. Obviously… the Zabini's knew exactly how to do that.

Taking advantage of the boy's momentary indecision Voldemort flung out one of his most favorite curses. Contrary to popular belief, it was not the Cruciatus. The Dark Lord was forced to use that crude curse to control his followers because they were too dim-witted to fear anything else. No, his favorite by far was the Alimari Curse, an ancient curse that instead of attacking your enemy exposed him.

Whipping up a shield a few seconds too late, the curse tossed Blaise in the air like a toothpick. For the second time that night, he felt his magic threaten to drown him. Voldemort stared, awe-struck, at the incredible display of magic at his disposal. He reached out a spindly finger and touched a tendril of the powerful force. Hissing as it stung his finger, he had barely twitched his finger when the magic redirected itself in that direction and blasted a hole in the wall. Withdrawing his hand cautiously, Voldemort held his hand close to his chest, savoring the feeling of power.

Blaise, drowning in his ocean of magic, finally managed to flounder to the surface. He watched in fury as Voldemort manipulated his magic, HIS MAGIC. Something clicked angrily inside of him and Blaise unconsciously counteracted the effects of the curse with his sheer anger. Standing up shakily from the sudden magical imbalance he seized the opportunity and threw himself out the open window. Twisting his body in a familiar pattern he maneuvered his body so that he was directly above the apparation point. Then, blocking out Voldemort's angry scream, he apparated, in mid-air.


When Voldemort arrived back in the living room, his stride was one of frustration. He walked over to the still unconscious couple and roughly enervated them. When Braeden took a little too long to regain consciousness Voldemort vented out his anger with a well placed Cruciatus. It was satisfying feeling and at once the Dark Lord felt in control again.

Raising his wand again in preparation for the final blow he took in a deep breath, as though savoring the experience. The thought of savoring something reminded him of the sheer intoxication of Blaise's magic; Voldemort's wand hand faltered and fought the urge to finish off the boy's parents.

Kneeling beside the dazed Zabini, Voldemort hissed loud enough so that only the three of them could hear. "You'd better pray for your son because when I'm through with him… let's just say that he would be better off dead."


Shivering in the cold night air, Blaise pulled his robe tighter around his slim body. It was dark and Diagon Alley was dimly lit by the few shops that remained open all night long. He passed a dark Madam Malkins and carefully skirted the small crowd outside of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes.

Walking with purposeful strides, Blaise headed to the Leaky Cauldron to catch up on some much needed rest. Of course, the fact that it was one of the safest and most Light oriented taverns in the Wizarding London could only help. He doubted that Voldemort would have the guts to attack such a prominent place impromptu. After what had happened that night, the very thought of being alone frightened him. This was doubly unusual, because the thought of being afraid in the first place was a rather new feeling.

Blaise approached Tom and pulled out a small fistful of golden galleons. Dropping the correct amount on the counter he muttered, trying to mask the exhaustion in his voice, "I need a single room, 14 if it's empty."

Tom studied the wizard in front of him. It was Blaise Zabini, age 17, the only son of the Zabini family, heir to the Zabini fortune, and soon to be Head Boy of Hogwarts. Of course, he didn't acknowledge his recognition of the boy but simply dragged the small pile of money toward him and handed over the key. Then without breaking eye contact Tom reached underneath the bar and pulled out a fresh butter beer. Blaise's lips twitched briefly as he took the bottle gratefully. Slumping on the closest barstool, he slowly nursed his drink. He usually would have itched to have something a little stronger but the thought of not being in control of his senses had somehow lost its appeal.

After a few warm minutes over his drink, Blaise pushed the bottle across the counter. He stood up and dropped a few more coins on the counter. After a moments hesitation he dropped 3 galleons extra. Sliding the rather generous tip to the bartender, he murmured, "I need a wake-up call. Seven-thirty would be nice."

Tom nodded in agreement and went back to wiping his mug. Climbing the rickety stairs two at a time, Blaise opened the door and slipped inside.

Escaping is always the easy part. Evading… that's an entirely different story.