That was the last I saw of the Longbottoms, of their entire family, until my husband Lucius and I took our little Draco to Platform 9 ¾ for the first time and I saw their young son, Neville, and every year that passed I felt even more guilty for his parents' current states. I never got over it.
"Lucius," I whispered as the two youths disappeared from the dark room in the Ministry basement. "Lucius, please, I need to leave now." I clung to his arm as he pulled his mask off and stared at me with his sharp gray eyes. He nodded only once, and called out.
"My lord, if I may?" He asked the horrid person in front of our group of horrid humans destined to be worth nothing. "My wife and I must go, our son requires tending to. He is still young, and we are his parents, after all." I was filled with relief that my husband was in a good place with the Dark Lord and that he was in a good mood, pleased with her work. He nodded once and turned from us to yet another crying woman who had been watching the entire ordeal. I never found out what happened to her, for Lucius had grabbed my arm and we Apparated out.
As soon as we were at Malfoy Manor, I collapsed on our couch, and begin sobbing. I couldn't take it any more, this Death Eater thing. I couldn't bear to look anyone in the eyes for nearly a year following that night. I quit my job at the Ministry, once again thanking my good fortune that my husband's family and mine were so well-off. We could afford my not working, but I needed something to pass the time while he was away. Draco had a governess, he was taken care of.
For the most part, I stayed in my bedroom, trying to forget. I often rocked myself back and forth in the years following while Alice's screams rang inside my head. The third year that passed was one that I remembered little of. I had taken up drinking, and it still did not help me. It once got so bad that Lucius took me to St. Mungo's, but I refused to go there, knowing that the Longbottoms were there. I was, instead, taken in secrecy to a Muggle rehabilitation center and I have never touched a drink since. The reason that you must know this, dear reader, is because as I sit here writing this I am being watched. They are here, watching me. Not directly, but they monitor us. Draco has grown up, he has become a fine young man, and he was forced to become one of them. When I learned of this, I cried for a week. My boy, my baby boy, was now evil. I knew he didn't want it, but he put on a brave face to try and earn our family's honor back.
And so, having finished my tale of what happened the night that Frank and Alice Longbottom were driven legally insane, I bid you farewell, and hope that whosoever finds this story to be in his or her hands, treats it with the greatest care. Do not let it out of your sight, put protective charms on it, as many as you can, and let no one find you reading this. These are the words I will leave you with, and if you must, turn this in to the magical authorities. They will know what to do. Trust me.