The Parisian summer of 1890 was especially hot. The few survivors believed this to be the paranormal result of the opera house fire, which still stood proudly beside the street. To passers-by, it appeared as an old, uninhabited building, but to those who managed to escape, it is the home of the infamous opera ghost. This fire produced skeptics who targeted the survivors, blaming them for the death of hundreds of stagehands, ballerinas, and audience members. Something like a witch hunt soon proceeded. Many of the surviving victims became homeless, and were the easiest targets to attack. People were publicly humiliated, beaten, raped, and killed.

Outside of the opera house, a group of ten or so people jumped from an old horse drawn carriage, pulling an unwilling young woman. The men cursed in uncontrollable rage as they kicked open the door and dragged the young woman inside.

What was left of the entrance hall supported the mob as they rushed up the elegant, curving stairs and into the theatre. Their angry, excited cries echoed through the aisles and all around the stage, stirring the thick layers of dust. They dragged the girl around the orchestra pit and onto the stage. She landed on her side before the laughing mob, her face red with tears and bruises.

"Since you love this opera house so much," one of the men said as he approached her, "let's play a game." The men agreed with a laugh. "I will give you to the count of five…and if we can find you, this opera house will be the last thing you ever see…"

"Please, monsieur," she pleaded, "It was not me!"

"1…" the girl stood, scrambling nervously and ran backstage, pushing the curtains aside as she tripped and stumbled. "2…" The men silently began to disperse around the stage, disappearing behind the curtains. "3…" Suddenly, her scream echoed through the theatre, taunting her quietly as the men dragged her back onto the stage. "How sad…zut pour toi…" The men laughed, throwing her back onto the hard wooden stage.

"Please!" she cried as the mouth of the group pulled her up and held her close.

"No, mon cher…" he said gently as he pulled the bun of her hair loose, releasing her long, brown locks. "You will, as you promised before, savor my love."

"No!" she cried again as her corset was cut and tossed away. She thrashed her arms and legs, fighting her attackers, but they were stronger, and held her as the leader of the group cut open her skirt, leaving her in her thin undershirt and petticoat. Her bare feet kicked and her fists flew, but they retaliated with blows twice as painful. Miraculously, her foot collided with her attacker's nose, pushing him back long enough for her to scramble a few feet away from the group.

"Who dares to intrude upon my opera house?" a powerful voice asked. It seemed to emanate from every corner of the theatre. The men froze, and the woman's face froze with terror. "Leave now, or savor the last moments of your worthless life!" The men laughed mockingly at what they believed to be the trick of the young woman.

"Tell me, mon cher," the man said, stepping forward, "how is it that you create such a manly voice from every corner of this theatre?"

"I have not said a word…" Her voice trembled as she stood.

"This girl is not the source of my voice, monsieur…" the voice said. "Shall you tempt me further, you will see my face…"

"You lie…" the man said.

"I do not," the voice said grimly. "Madamoiselle, you know of my trickery, am I right?"

"Yes, monsieur…" she answered.

"So shall I show them of my talents?" he asked.

"If you wish, but please…monsieur…do not harm me…." she pleaded and the voice laughed. Suddenly, the stage opened up beneath her and she fell into the darkness beneath the stage, her frightened scream echoing up to the men.

"Unless you wish to have the fate of this woman, I suggest you leave my opera house," the voice boomed and the men ran without looking back.

The opera house was silent.

A dark figure moved smoothly through the dark hallways of the opera house. The figure's footsteps were silent as they approached the unsteady breaths of the crying woman. She lay on her side, cradling her bleeding wound. A gloved hand gently touched her shoulder and she flinched back in fear.

"Please monsieur," she cried, "please do not hurt me!"

"You are mistaken, mademoiselle, I am nothing like those men you so strangely encountered," the figure said, crouching to her level. Through the dim light, she gazed up at the figure's face, her eyes growing wide. "Yes, it is me." He paused for a moment as she gazed into his light blue eyes. Something in his eyes met with something in hers, and for a moment, she was lost. "You're hurt," he said, gently touching her forehead. She flinched back at the pain of his touch and he quickly drew his hand back.

"Monsieur, I am so sorry," she said as she stood. "I have intruded upon your opera house."

"You have not intruded," he said, stopping her. "What is your name?"

"Madeleine."

"Well, Madeleine, you have my word that you have not intruded. However," he continued, "where is it that you shall be going?"

"If I leave here, I will lose my life," she said sadly, folding her hands together.

"Well then welcome to my opera house, Madeleine, it is no different than the last time it was inhabited." A grim smile overcame his lips.

"And you, you're the Monsieur le Phantom?" she asked in disbelief.

"Yes," he answered.

"Oh! Merci, Monsieur!" she cried, enveloping him in her arms. His smile turned straight and she pulled away quickly, feeling the tenseness in his body.

"It is alright," he said, sensing her fear. "You may find your former dormitory if you please. I believe the fire did not damage the rooms that much."

"I will, Monsieur, but where is it that you shall be sleeping?" she asked curiously.

"Where I have slept for all of my years." he answered. "Perhaps, if you are cautious and wary, you may find it some time." He nodded and departed into the darkness.

"Bon nuit, Monsieur le Phantom," she said quietly.

"Monsieur le Phantom…" he mused darkly.

~V~V~V~V~V~

A/N: I hate putting author's notes in the beginning of the chapters. It just ruins the story. So here it is, the first chapter of a remake of another shot at a phantom story. I hope you enjoyed it. Reviews and criticism (no flames please) are greatly appreciated, even if they are negative, (just no flames…that's mean :P)

I will decided soon if I shall post the next chapter…

PS: I like the name Madeleine… its pretty. And yes, I do speak a little French, but not a lot. I am nowhere near fluent.

Thanks!