Author's Note: This is my first fan-fiction, so I really, really hope you like it. I know this story probably won't be as amazing and spectacular as some other stories, so I appreciate that you are taking the time to read this. Please, please, please review! And be honest, and as critical as possible, so I can improve future chapters and stories. Thank you so much (again) for reading my story.

I do not own The Phantom of the Opera (sadly).

Prologue

I held the lady's hand as she walked. The lady was polite, however, her hand was cold and she was distant. Not like my father, who was always warm, kind, loving, and so there. I missed him. Over the past few weeks I couldn't help but compare this woman who took me from my home to the father who raised me.

But in this large strange building, the Opera Populaire, I held onto the lady's hand, and this didn't happen often, for the comfort of something familiar in this new place. The lady led me up a large, marble staircase. I looked around at the detailed statues that garnished the walls and ceiling of the chamber. So many of them were angels. Father promised me he'd send me an angel of music, but so far, I haven't seen even a sign of any angel watching me. It's been three weeks.

Three weeks since the funeral. Three weeks with this lady, going from place to place to find someone or somewhere to live at. I must have seen half of France already! And all I wanted was to go back home, to my little house by the sea. Maybe my angel couldn't find me because I had moved around too much, and now he would never be able to watch over me. Tears blurred my vision, and for what felt like the millionth time in the time since father's death, I resisted the urge to fall to the floor and cry, and then just curl up in a corner and join my father in heaven.

The lady pulled me forward a little, as I had fallen behind, lost in my thoughts. I looked up and saw that in front of my there stood a tall woman dressed in black. "Christine," the lady I had been with for what felt like a miserable eternity, "this is Madame Giry." the lady turned and addressed Madame Giry, "Madame Giry, this is Christine Daaè, the girl I was telling you about." She turned back to me and said "Christine, you will be living here, in the opera house. Madame Giry will be instructing you in ballet." And with that she walked me over to Madame Giry, gave her my portmanteau and left.

"Come, Christine." Madame Giry ordered. She began walking down a corridor. I followed her.

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Madame Giry had taken me on a long tour of the opera house. My feet ached from walking for so long. "Come," Madame Giry said, "I will take you to your room." She walked me down yet another corridor, and I sighed. She led me to a dark brown door and knocked. "Meg, open the door, please." I heard footsteps, and then the door flew open, revealing a small blond girl. She had a heart-shaped face, and waist length golden hair. She looked at me curiously with bubbly brown eyes.

"Hi!IamMeg!Whoareyou?Aregoingtobelivinghere?Howoldareyou?Thisisgoingtobesofun!Wearegoingtobebestfriends!" She said so fast that I had to stop and think before answering.

For the first time since I arrived at the opera house I spoke, "Hi, I'm Christine. Yes I'm going to learn ballet, and hopefully to sing. I hope it will be fun, and that we will be best friends." I was sure I addressed all her comments. The little blond moved, as graceful as a swan, to envelop me in a hug. I stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to react.

"Meg," Madame Giry interrupted, "This is Christine Daaè, and she is going to be your new roommate. I expect you to help her adjust to life in the Opera Populaire. Christine," she said to me, "this is Meg, my daughter. She will be your roommate. She will help you if you need anything. Ballet class starts at 7 in the morning tomorrow. Goodnight." Meg grabbed my hand, and pulled me into the room, carrying my bag in with her other hand.

"YAY!Weareroommates!?" Meg said so fast, I didn't understand a word.

"Come again?" I asked.

"Yay! We're roommates! Why did you come to the opera house, Christine?" she asked, slower.

"I'm glad we are roommates too. And I came here because my father died, and I have nowhere else to go." I said quietly.

"Oh." Meg was very quiet now, avoiding my gaze, "I'm sorry Christine."

I smiled sadly, "I think I'm going to take a walk."

"Okay," Meg said, almost whispering, "see you later." I slipped out of the room, and as soon as I was out of hearing range of the door to our room, which remained slightly ajar, I broke into a sprint. I ran through hallways and up and down stairwells to a chapel in a remote corner of the building.