Author's note:

I got the idea for this fanfic from a thread on the Frollo Forum where one of the posters wondered why Quasimodo was white and red-haired when his parents were both dark-skinned and dark-haired. There were several theories, ranging from "He's never been outside" to "He's an albino," but my theory was that the guy in the boat with Quasi's mother was not actually his real father. I pondered this for a moment and realized that I should try writing a Disney!HoND fanfic with this idea in it, and also try to give some background on Quasi's mother. Other people have done this fanfic idea before, but I hope that my spin on it will prove to be original enough.

This is my first HoND fanfic and constructive criticism is welcome. If any part of the fic is poorly written or just plain doinky, do not hesitate to tell me what I should do better.

Disclaimer: The Disney version of The Hunchback of Notre Dame is ©1996 Disney (of course) and is based on the book by Victor Hugo. Obviously, I don't own the rights to either of these things, and I don't own the characters either.

Prologue – Paris, 1462

In the dark, cramped, and dingy cell in the deepest dungeon of the Palace of Justice, one man's life was slowly fading away.

Just several hours before, Bostán had been subject to some of the most brutal tortures by Judge Claude Frollo and his guards. They had beaten him black and blue with terrifying whips, they had smacked and kicked him, they had crushed his foot when he refused to answer their questions. When he demanded to know what had happened to his sister, Frollo had told him that "that witch you call your sister has left this world forever, and is undoubtedly burning in hell."

"And the child…what about the child?!"

"Ah, you mean the foul, misshapen demon she bore. I have my own plans for that thing. I will make it be of use to me in some fashion…"

Before Bostán could ask further what he meant, two guards had tossed him into the cell. Frollo said "Now, I shall leave you to your own fate, and let you join your fellow demons in hell," walking out of the dungeon.

The cell reeked of filth, and the stone walls and floor were stained with blood. It was bare, with not even a cot to sleep in.

All Bostán could feel was the agonizing pain all over his body. His back was drenched in blood from the whippings and his tunic had been torn apart. The pain in his chest was wrenching, and his feet had both been crushed so hard he could not get up. He cursed his situation. He cursed the boatman who had tricked them, he cursed the gadje, he cursed that damn monster child for not shutting up –no, Reina would never allow me to say such things about him-he cursed everything. His worst nightmare had come true: his dear sister Reina had been killed, murdered, by Judge Claude Frollo.

Now all he could do as he waited for death to come was to try to envision happier times – when he and Reina had played together, made up stories together. How they always looked forward to the next destination they would go to. How proud he had been of her when she danced so beautifully in the streets and at festivals.

He would remember everything as best as he could, so that he could take his mind off the pain.