When the Night Broke

By Hannah Davenport (slytherin_punk@hotmail.com)

Rating: PG

Summary: Sequel to "Bent" and "Twisted." Five years later, Ginny is a bored and very depressed employee at Flourish and Blotts. Outside her drawn-in, little world lies an evil overlord of doom by the name of Radoc Lafoym, who is threatening society. How do they relate?

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by J. K. Rowling. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. It's just fan fiction!


Chapter Ten

The File of Radoc Lafoym

< >The first thing you must understand about the tale I am about to relate, is that I do not do so willingly. In fact, if I did not consider this absolutely requisite, I would begin with 'I am a guilty archfiend, lock me up!'. However, this story pertains a great deal to my life, and I am told by my attorney that to leave it unsaid would be perjury - and I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that I have enough crimes against my name, and that I really don't need to add perjury, no matter how much this series of events disgraces my being.

< >The second, is that all of this is completely real. Nothing was concocted from my own fancy, although sometimes I sincerely doubt that fact. I remember every event with stinging detail, but I will understand if some of you do not fully believe me. No one has believed me about anything through the course of my life. I've grown quite used to it, so please feel free to make your opinion known.

< >Once upon a time...

< >My family has always been one for blood, in both a vicious and genealogical sense. However, we were usually preoccupied with the latter. My parents taught me not to carry on civil conversations with anyone who had lesser than I - people who were poor, Muggle-born, or half-blood were strictly on the 'NO' list, and to act according to my status.

< >This is probably why I was astonished when an act of kindness was conferred upon me by one Virginia Weasley.

< >I was seventeen, and had suffered a severe punishment from my father the night before I was due back at school. Feeling extremely nettled, and rather depressed, I went off to a compartment on the Hogwarts Express, - completely alone - when I realized I hadn't shut the door. So, not bothering to hide my hammered face, I stood in the doorway, when Miss Weasley approached me and asked if I was alright.

< >She fixed me up, congratulated me on making the position of Head Boy, and was on her way. But before I go any further, I want to apologize if I get too - maudlin . . . I am not generally a sentimental person, but certain things about Miss Weasley invoke certain emotions.

< >Now, as I was saying: of course, after being treated nicely by someone I was rather boorish towards, I was curious. Why did she want to be my Good Samaritan? Why would she help me? After all, I had seen her father and mine brawling in a bookstore! It made no sense.

< >After I had that matter cleared up - the answer to those questions being that she was an extremely ethical person, and tried to like everyone - she and I became friends, and eventually we fell in love. (Minister, I can hear you gasping . . .) My father, however, did not agree to this situation.

< >On the morning after my eighteenth birthday, he took me from Hogwarts, and I was never seen again. At least, not under my true name.

< >After that, I was incarcerated in the dungeon of my own house, Death Eaters occupying the station of warden until it was Torture Time - when Lucius and Voldemort took over. There were three years of bodily persecution. Three years that felt like six years in hell, through both my mentality and physicality. When those three years were over, there were two years of training. And then I emerged with an extremely ironic anagram for a name. Please take note of this:



< >Yes, Voldemort always was one for games, even if they were word games. And, adding to my new name, he gave me a new personality. I'm sure you've all heard of the Filispo Curse . . .

< >Once again, I do not expect a single one of you to believe me. After all, I am a loathsome person. And you all found Draco Malfoy's body after he went missing from Hogwarts. You all saw the atrocious corpse lying in the flower garden of Malfoy Manor. Or rather, you saw the transfigured remains of a dog.

< >Believe me, if you will. I really could care less. I am faced with either life alone or death, and at the moment, death sounds more appetizing.


After the Trial

< >The jury sat around a large, rectangular table, all of them looking extremely uncomfortable. They just had to be called on this trial! Most of them were rather old, with tremendously thick glasses or wavering voices. However, none of them seemed to know what to do.

< >"'Ee did say 'ee wanted ter die," said one of them, furrowing his white eyebrows.

< >"And the story is rather erratic," added a woman, who was starting some knitting.

< >The youngest jury member - who was about forty - stood up at those comments. "Excuse me," she said, clearing her throat. "But, if he wants to die, isn't it better to make him live?"

< >There was a general murmur of agreement, and then the others began to smile, and that was how the jury decided whether or not 'Draco Malfoy' would live.

Chapter 9 | Home | To be continued . . .