A/N: Since I've been being mean to a certain fictional character, I've decided to make it up to his fans and make him the hero of this one. Quick warning, though: this chapter gets dark. I didn't mean it to, but it did, so if that bothers you, look away…
…Still with me? Good. Enjoy =).
Blaise Amadeus Zabini didn't set out to start a rebellion when Voldemort came to Hogwarts. In fact, he welcomed 'the Coming,' as it was called, like all the other devoted Sons and Daughters of the esteemed Death Eaters.
Until he witnessed the reality.
It was during dinner in the Great Hall when He came, sweeping in like a cleansing summer storm. The others had about a half an hour's warning-how, Blaise didn't know, and nor did he care. He and the other true followers sat calmly in their seats while the panicked Heads of House summoned their Houses and spirited them off, probably to attempt to Floo them away.
At any rate, the Great Hall emptied quickly. Four Ravenclaws-all from ancient pureblood families-came and joined the still mostly full Slytherin table. All of the other Houses had defected to 'the Light'.
It wasn't long until the sounds of the assault drifted to their ears. Nott beamed down the table at Blaise, who smiled slightly and raised his glass of red wine. To Blaise's left, Pansy smiled the most deliciously wicked smile Blaise had ever seen on a female face and raised her glass to his.
"To our Lord," she murmured reverently.
"Our Lord," Blaise echoed, bringing his glass to his lips. He almost choked on it, however, as the Great Hall doors thundered open once more.
White-faced children and teachers scrambled back into the room-the majority hadn't been able to escape before the Floo points around the school had been sealed off.
Once they were all in, Professors Sprout and Flitwick shoved the doors shut, raising their wands to seal them and protect them with defensive enchantments…
"Look at them," Blaise scoffed to Pansy. "Cowering like rats in a trap. You would think they would have the presence of mind to give their tainted bloodlines at least a semblance of honor by accepting defeat and capture with dignity."
Pansy opened her mouth to reply, but all that came out was a screech as the fortified windows blasted inwards. Blaise watched in fascination as the perfectly synchronized blasts sent out shards of powdered glass like glittering diamonds, followed immediately by black shapes.
The blood traitors screamed, shying away from the windows. Some didn't move fast enough to avoid the 'protected' doors as they exploded inwards too, throwing Sprout and Flitwick into the walls.
Blaise felt Him before he saw Him. The approach of the Dark Lord made all his senses buzz, becoming razor sharp with anticipation. And when He came through…it was like a Dark sun; he couldn't look directly at Him. For the first time in his life, Blaise's gaze dropped, his breath catching as a deliciously icy feeling ran down his spine like a delicate finger.
As He stood there, His loyal followers gathered around Him, the Children of the New Age rose as one from their seats and greeted their Master, heads bowed, fists over their hearts…
Blaise shivered in pleasure as His gaze swept over them in approval. "My Children," He purred. "Take your seats and celebrate the Coming of your Lord." His voice rose. "The rest of you, blood traitors and Mudbloods all, shall kneel and be judged!"
Some did, collapsing in blubbering heaps. Others-mostly Gryffindors-had to be forced. Either way, all kneeled as Lord Voldemort swept by, claiming the Headmaster's seat as His throne.
"If some of you are contemplating any daring acts of defiance-as I can see by your eyes that you are-then observe." He swept out a hand. "Your Chosen One, the great Harry Potter." The name dripped off His tongue like some sort of foul disease.
Potter, bloodied and limping, was dragged into the room by a thick chain attached to an iron collar, held by a gleefully capering Bellatrix Lestrange. She hauled the fallen Savior through the shocked, white-faced kneeling crowd, with hard yanks that made his unruly head jerk and the rough collar dig into his skin. But he made no noise and said nothing, despite Lestrange's taunts of "Come on, doggie!" and worse. Blaise's nose wrinkled, and he felt a stab of distain, not for the Savior but for the bitch holding the chain. Surely, such an adversary for their Lord deserved less…degrading…treatment?
Lestrange reverently placed the chain leash in Lord Voldemort's hand and skipped happily behind His new throne, cackling like a demented child.
"Harry Potter," He purred. The backhanded strike was almost too fast for even Blaise's quick eyes to catch. Potter's head wrenched to the side, but still, he made no sound. Several in the audience did, whining their fallen hero's name, only to be silenced by their guards. Lord Voldemort leaned in close to Potter's ear, as if to tell him a secret, but His voice rang out in the forced, deathly silence. "You will pay, Harry Potter. Every death I have died because of you, you will feel tenfold. And you will beg to die, Mr. Potter, just like your Mudblood mother." He pulled away, tossing the chain carelessly to one of His attendants. "Take him to the dungeons."
"Yes, my Lord." As the hulking Death Eater hauled the still-silent Potter away, a Death Eater with familiar silver-blonde hair stepped forward. "My Lord?"
Lord Voldemort reclined on His throne. "Yes, Lucius?"
"The others were wondering about the, ah, rewards you promised us?"
"Of course, my slippery friend," the Dark Lord purred. "You may have them. But Weasley and the Granger girl belong to me, as well as everything in the library."
As soon as He was finished speaking, there was utter chaos. The 'esteemed' Death Eaters, paragons of pureblood might, as Blaise had always been told, scattered, their behavior equal to that of brutish looters in the search for 'rewards'. Quite a few took rewards of a human variety. Screams rang out as families were torn apart, and…worse, much worse. Blaise's eyes dropped again, his stomach recoiling in horror and disgust as the behavior of the men and women he had admired since childhood degenerated into that of terrible beasts…Beside him Pansy's eyes dropped too, her hand suddenly gripping his forearm, her nails digging into his numbed flesh.
When the looting spread out into other areas of the castle, Lord Voldemort looked down with distain upon those who remained.
One by one, they were judged, not on blood purity but on the whims of a madman and his frenzied followers. Some were sent back to their House tables, others were killed or…tortured, on the spot, whipping the Death Eaters who remained into an even wilder frenzy…
Suddenly Voldemort spun around to face His Children's table, pointing with His wand. "You!" He bellowed.
For a heart-stopping second, Blaise thought the monster he used to revere was speaking to him. But no, His wand was pointed at…Pansy. Her nails dug even deeper into Blaise's arm as she said shakily, "Me, My Lord?"
But He didn't seem to hear her. "You!" He screeched again, sweeping forward. In the blink of an eye He was there, grabbing Pansy by the hair and throwing her to the ground. Her nails left bloody, desperate furrows on Blaise's arm.
"My Lord-!" she shouted, her voice a sharp, hysterical pitch in Blaise's ears as he clutched his arm, unable to look away.
"I JUDGE YOU IMPURE!" Lord Voldemort shrieked. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
"No!" Blaise screamed. Before he knew what he was doing, he was lurching to his feet, reaching out a pleading hand to his Master. "She's pure-"
"SILENCE, ignorant brat!" Voldemort thundered. A force slammed into Blaise's stomach, buckling his knees. Another force-this one tangible-slammed into his forehead, decking him flat. As he looked up with swimming, betrayed eyes, his Lord and Master glared down at him with blazing, insane eyes. "Stupid boy," he hissed.
As he swept dismissively away, Blaise dragged himself in the other direction. As his hand found Pansy's icy one, as he glared at Voldemort's retreating back through his rapidly dimming vision, he swore that his honor, and Pansy's death, would be avenged. Voldemort would pay dearly for both, if it was the last thing he, Blaise Amadeus Zabini, did on this earth.
A/N: Oooh that was dark *shivers*. The next chapter won't be quite so dark, I promise. Was Blaise in character enough? I tried to keep with the arrogance and get creative…did I? I appreciate any comments, especially if they help me improve =).