Disclaimer: I do not own The Hunchback of Notre Dame or anything to do with it. However, I do own Diamanta Devereux, her father, Oliver, Cecile Devereux, Madame Doreen,and Judge Thomas Gautier.

Note: No, the story isn't finished. I, too, am a Clopin fan and refuse to finish the story with such a terrible ending as I have in this piece of it. I don't know how many chapters there will be, but there'll be enough for the story to make all Clopin fans fulfilled.

I'm sorry but I won't be finishing this fanfiction until I finish my current fanfiction for harry potter. I haven't even gotten halfway through and submissions to phoenixsong are tomorrow. (yikes!) So I'll be putting off for a while, but stay tuned for more chapters!

Chapter #19

"Please, no! To kill me is to kill my child!" Diamanta heard a familiar voice plead. She looked past Gautier to see Esmeralda on her knees in front of a pitiless soldier, Phoebus at her side. Gautier must have understood what Diamanta was looking at, for he turned his head and spoke his orders to the soldier.

"Leave the gypsy be! I only want her," he said, pointing to Diamanta, and after some thought, pointed to Clopin, "and her beau."

"But sir, they are the ones who—"

"I know what they did! You were trained to follow orders, and follow orders you will! Take the gypsy girl and her beau!"

Within seconds the two of them were hauled roughly out of the wagon.

"No! What did Clopin ever do?" Diamanta screamed. Gautier smiled sourly.

"I want him dead for my own personal reasons." Another smile full of unholy desire spread across his face before he spoke in a voice so soft that only Diamanta could hear. "But you I would like to speak to privately before your death." Though Clopin could not hear Gautier, he knew what he was saying due to the terrified expression Diamanta gave him. To Clopin's entertainment, she spat in Gautier's face, a direct hit into his eye.

"Pig," she hissed before he slapped her with his ringed hand. She tasted blood. If she wasn't being held tightly by one of his men, she would have stumbled and fallen backward.

"Take them away," Gautier ordered, and within minutes, Diamanta and Clopin were shoved out of the Court of Miracles, onto the cold streets of Paris, and into a horse drawn wagon used for carrying prisoners.

"I'm sorry," Diamanta said quietly after the wagon began to move. Clopin looked up at her.

"What?"

"I said I'm—"

"I heard what you said. But what do you need to be sorry about?"

"I shouldn't have pulled you into this. This was purely between Gautier and myself, and I dragged you into this." A tear fell from her eye. "And now you're going to die." She pulled her legs to her chest and sobbed into her knees. Clopin scooted to her side and wrapped his arms around her, getting his shirt wet with her salty tears in the process. She put her head on his chest. "How did this happen? How could Paris let another judge like Frollo take over? It's madness." Clopin didn't speak. He appeared to be lost in thought.

For a while they sat there; Clopin sitting with an expression of concentration set upon his face, and Diamanta leaned against his chest sobbing softly and praying for a miracle. After what seemed like several years, the wagon eventually stopped. She sat up abruptly and clung to Clopin, not ready to let go. The door flew open, revealing the same soldier that was ready to send Esmeralda, a woman with child, to death row. To Diamanta's surprise, instead of embracing her in return, Clopin pushed her away and quickly got to his feet and bowed. The soldier raised an eyebrow.

"Bonjour monsieur! Qu'un jour ensoleillé!" Clopin said in a too-cheery voice.

"What are you talking about?" the solider said after giving Clopin a look that stated You must have gone insane! "It looks like it's about to rain."

"Oh, I'm just trying to make conversation," Clopin said. "It's how I attract an audience."

"Audience?"

"But of course! Don't you know? I'm an entertainer," Clopin said with a back handspring to prove his point. Though he tried to hide it, both gypsies could see that the soldier was amazed at the athletic ability Clopin possessed, especially since Clopin didn't appear to have a single muscle on him. "And my only wish is to perform one last show before my death." The soldier grunted in approval, though Clopin could see the masked excitement on his face. In the blink of an eye Clopin pulled out his puppet.

"What's the story going to be about this time?" it asked excitedly. The soldier stared at him in disbelief. As Clopin did most of the time, he ignored anyone who gave of the impression that he was insane.

"This is a tale of a girl and a monster," Clopin said, looking directly at Diamanta, who was oblivious to what his story was to be about. Clopin began to sing to the same tune of his more popular performance "The Hunchback of Notre Dame". "Dark was the night when our tale was begun in a town in Paris, France. A child shuddered in fear of her father at home in Paris, France." Diamanta's eyes widened. How could he do this? She thought to herself. Clopin knew how much she hated to speak of her childhood. Despite the hurt expression Diamanta gave him, he continued. "For her father beats her when he's angry. And pity she had not a chance. For he murdered her mother and cared for no other, but tonight," Clopin paused for suspense, "tonight he shall regret." Diamanta stared at Clopin, her eyes forming tears from the horrid memories of the childhood her father took from her.

"Please, no," Diamanta begged. "You know that I hate this." The soldier seemed amused at her pain, though he didn't understand where it came from.

"Continue, gypsy," he said with a chuckle. "I would like to know what happened to this miserable child!" Clopin looked at Diamanta, who now had several rivers of salty tears ran down her cheeks. Clopin bent down to brush away her tears.

"'Tis all part of the plan, Dia. It will be over soon," he whispered into her ear.

"Are you going to finish this story, or shall I send you to Judge Thomas Gautier now?" the solider complained.

"I want to see it, too!" the puppet screeched. "C'mon, Clopin! Finish it! I want to hear the rest of your story.

"Very well, then," Clopin said with a sigh. He cleared his throat and continued in his amazing musical voice. "Her father had beaten her not far before life's line." He paused again for the soldier's anticipation. "But she edged toward to the door, her only chance at life."

"What happened?" the soldier asked impatiently. "Did she get away? Did her father catch her?" Clopin froze. As Diamanta almost suspected, this was one of Clopin's rushed, half-baked plans. And, as usual, he wasted time thinking of a way to finish his plan.

"Yes, what did she do? Did she escape? Or, perhaps, did her father finish what he started and murder the poor child?" the puppet squeaked. Clopin hit the puppet over the head with his free hand.

"Don't be so impatient! Clopin will tell you what happened."

"What happened? Tell me, tell me!"

"Quiet!" Clopin shouted in mock-anger. The soldier was growing weary of this little act and came toward the two to pull them out of the wagon. Diamanta suddenly stood up.

"I'll tell you what happened," she said, imitating the low, mysterious voice Clopin spoke in when telling an especially dramatic story.

"What?" the soldier said in a bored tone. Diamanta smiled in an almost wicked fashion as she reached into her deep pocket for her rather handy disappearing powder. She casually took her hand out of her pocket with a fist full of the pink powder.

"She ran!" In one fluid motion, Diamanta threw the powder to the ground, grabbed Clopin's arm, and leaped out of the wooden wagon, leading her and Clopin to safety.