Author's Note: Hey, fellow Pan Fans, I'm back…with another crossover as you no doubt saw from the summary. I think someone did a crossover like this before but they sadly deleted it so I decided to see what I could create with two of the most beloved stories in literature. This story follows the same plotline as the 2004 Phantom movie with Gerald Butler. I will make a few references to the original book but they will be really subtle so you don't have to have read the book to understand them.

Disclaimer (I'm only going to say this once!): I am not JM Barrie, Gaston Leroux or Andrew Lloyd Webber. If I was, I would either be dead or an elderly musical genius, considering I am none of those things, nothing in this story belongs to me.

Enjoy the prologue!

The Angel of the Opera

Prologue: The Auction

London, 1944

A cold autumn breeze blew down the fence lined street and subsequently tugged a few orange leaves from their branches. The leaves darted through the air before they began to drift lazily to the sidewalk below. One of them brushed the shoulder of a man as he walked purposefully toward one house in particular; his shoulders bent to the block the biting wind.

When he reached his destination, he climbed the steps and rang the bell. Luckily he had to wait only a moment or so before it was answered by the maid.

"Good afternoon, sir," she said, looking warily at him.

"Good afternoon," the man replied politely. "Is Mr. Barrie at home?"

"He is, sir, but who is it that is asking?"

Here, the man raised himself up to his full height so the woman could see his face and replied, "James Hooke."

As he expected, the maid slapped a hand over her mouth in surprise and gasped, "Viscount?"

"Yes," James replied somewhat exasperatedly, "but I have disposed of my title long ago. I prefer not to, ah, draw attention to myself since, well…" he let his voice trail away and the maid, after a moment's thought on what he was referring to, nodded in understanding. "Oh, yes, sir. I'm sorry if I have offended you, sir."

He waved as if to brush aside her apology. "No need to fret about it but perhaps we might continue this conversation…inside?"

The maid gave a cry of alarm. "Oh, of course, sir! Yes, please come in and I'll let the Baronet know you are here." She opened the door wider, allowing him to enter and James stepped gratefully out of the cold wind and into the warm entryway. Once the maid had taken his coat and hat, she disappeared through a doorway.

While he waited, James pondered upon the title that the maid had given the playwright: Baronet. It was the lowest title that one could receive but it was a title nonetheless and an honor. He could not believe that the man would want to draw attention to himself in such a way.

At that moment, the maid reappeared and said. "He is ready to see you now. I have been told to ask if you wish for some tea, sir?"

"That would be greatly appreciated, thank you," James answered. The maid nodded once and then turned and he followed.

She led him into a small parlor where a large fire burned brightly in the grate and sitting in a high backed chair near it was a small man. His hair was completely white and his face was a pale mass of wrinkles and papery thin. He looked up at their entrance, his blue eyes twinkling brightly despite his advanced age but said nothing as James seated himself across from him and the maid shut the door.

When they were alone, James said softly. "Hello, Jamie. It's been a long time."

"Yes, many would say that forty years is a long time," James Barrie replied stiffly. "To what do I owe this visit from you? Or before you answer that, answer this where have you been all this time?"

"In Sussex," James replied. "Trying to…forget it all."

"And have you succeeded?"

"Hardly. I'm almost sixty years old and I can still see her face…and his masked one. That fateful night still haunts my dreams." He finished softly.

"Yes, I have dreams too," Jamie said sympathetically. "Yet, strangely they are happy ones. After all, I loved them as much as I might love my own children."

"So, you don't hate him then? For what he did?"

"I could never hate that boy and never have. He felt too much hate towards him already," Jamie replied. "Besides, he is the reason my play came into being and I am forever grateful to him for that."

James nodded to show he understood and watched as the old man's eyes glazed over and he slipped into his memories. He waited patiently for him to return and when he did it was with an entirely new question.

"So, James, what is your real reason for coming here? Surely you did not seek me out to dwell upon the past?"

"Well, the past has something to do with it," James admitted. "I was hoping that you might accompany me to…to the auction."

But before Jamie could answer, the maid appeared with the tea. She set it down on a low table next to Jamie, bowed to him and then quickly left the room.

When she was gone and both of them held cups of steaming tea in their hands, Jamie asked. "What auction?" But James could tell from his expression that he knew exactly what auction he was referring to. He pretended that he did not observe this and calmly answered, "The auction at the theater. It's a public auction, anyone can go."

"So, anyone can get their hands on his personal things," Jamie snapped as he lifted his cup to his lips.

"That's exactly what I thought," said James, pleased that the older man seemed to share his view. "We can't let those things go to just anyone. I'm sure half of the people there have heard the story a million times and will want a piece of it. But you and me, Jamie, we're the only ones left who know the real story," he lowered his voice as he spoke and leaned closer to him. "Well, besides Slightly of course, but I can't seem to locate him. So, what do you say? Will you come with me and see if we can't get back something to remember them by?"

"I want nothing else to remember them by," said Jamie gruffly. "I have my memories and they are enough. You go if you so wish it but leave me out of this."

James sighed heavily and stood up. "All right, Jamie, that is your decision and I shall respect it. I merely thought that I might drop by and see if you were interested. I am glad to see that you are still in good health."

The old playwright's face softened at his words. "Thank you, James. I'm sorry for being so…gruff. But as much as I try to think only happy memories of them, it pains to think that I will never see them again." James smiled sadly and nodded. "Yes, I feel the same way, Jamie. I really do." Then he shook the old man's wrinkled hand warmly and left the room.


Twenty minutes later, James was standing on ground floor of the main theater in the Duke of York's Opera House. It was a mere shadow of its former self now, having been at the mercy of the elements for so long. Dust covered every inch of it and the whole room looked as if it would collapse at any moment. The chairs had been taken out and discarded years ago after the fire. It was so depressing to think that such a place which had been once so full of grandeur and beauty could have been reduced to such a miserable state. He gazed sadly at the crumbling balconies and private boxes as the auctioneer called out bids for a large poster.

He snapped out of his reverie when the auctioneer called out, "And now, lot number 665. A music box, found in the vaults of the theater. It is of the typical box shape but made of a very strong kind of rosewood in which has been carved various wild animals with a great attention to detail. On the lid are two dancing figures, a boy and a girl who are exceptionally well crafted. This piece is still in good working order too! Listen!" The man who was showing each piece to the small crowd, wound the knob with some difficulty. Then, there was a pause before the music began to flow.

It was a soft, sad tune like a lullaby. It was unrecognizable to James but that didn't matter, he was captivated by the simple tune and his heart ached even more so than it ever had for its previous owner.

When the music finally stopped there was a moment of silence before the auctioneer asked, "Shall we start the bidding at ten pounds?"

James raised his hand instantly but was beaten by another man around his age, standing towards the back of the room. James glanced at him in surprise and thought to himself. Is that Slightly?

"Fifteen pounds!" called the auctioneer.

James raised his hand again and was quicker this time as the auctioneer pointed to him and said, "Thank you, sir, now do I hear twenty pounds?"

Again he raised his hand and was surprised when no one else bid, he glanced back at the man whom he was sure was Slightly and saw that he flashed him a small smile.

"Twenty pounds going once…twice…sold to the gentleman at the right!" declared the auctioneer.

When the assistant handed him his prize, James held it as tenderly as he might a lover. He couldn't believe that such a treasure had been hidden for so long.

"I forgot to mention, sir that this box comes with an additional piece," said the auctioneer from where he stood behind his podium. "Inside the box, you will find a curious wooden instrument commonly called panpipes. It is said, ladies and gentlemen that both these items belonged to the ghost that was said to have haunted this theater nearly four decades ago.

"Now, the mystery of the 'phantom of the opera' has never been fully explained but we have here part of what is said to be the very chandelier that played such a large role in the destruction of this great theater."

James had no interest in seeing the chandelier; he only had eyes for the music box. He studied the dancing figures on top. The girl was wearing a simple white dress and the boy in a dark green tunic. They were not really dancing in the usual sense but sort of…flying. Both were standing on leg while the other leg and one arm were slightly outstretched while the other arm was holding the hand of the other. Tiny golden wings were also attached to their backs. With a twinge of his heart he realized that the girl looked remarkably like her and the boy like him.

And that was how it had all started, James thought to himself with a slight smile, with a girl…and a very unusual boy.

Author's Note: That was probably too long for a prologue but oh well, I hope you liked it! Sorry for the cliffy but I will update as soon as possible depending on how well you liked it! So please review! I can't wait to hear what you think!