DISCLAIMER: I am making no money off of this, and this site isn't either. This is purely fan-fiction written by a weird person who has absolutely nothing better to do than write this stuff. I don't own Harry Potter, Hogwarts, Snape, etc. J.K.R. does. I don't own Erik the Opera Ghost either—Gaston Leroux created him (or simply wrote about him, I don't know…)

Visions of a Man

Sequel to The Opera Ghost and the Potions Master

I could not keep away from this story. I am writing more. More, I say!

Chapter 1

Severus Snape admired the jeweled robes of Minerva McGonagall as the woman plaintively sat, talking to him. Oh yes, he decided, he was glad to be home.

Today was Christmas, she had said. Was it really? Had be been gone for that long?

Then he looked at the shirt laying across the bedspread . . . one normally foreign to his wardrobe. Erik's shirt. It was Erik's shirt. Therefore, the whole thing . . . the whole dream had been real.

But Snape was pondering this for the fifth time in the past hour. The reason, he supposed, that his mind continually was going around in circles was because of how sudden the change back to his own time had been.

For, you see, Snape had been mentally and physically absent from Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry for months. A potion had brought him to the cellars of the Paris Opera House constructed by Charles Garnier, and there he had met Erik.

Erik was known by many as The Phantom of the Opera, for he lived in the deepest basement of it, in a little house on a lake. When Snape had first appeared to him, the lad was in a terrible condition: anorexic, infatuated with some girl named Christine (the wife of another man!), with utter lack self-confidence . . . and, most importantly, the most hideous face. This last prevented him from living life as a normal person, and he felt obligated to hide himself away from the real world.

Snape had befriended him, and changed all of the above problems, one way or another.

Severus' mind wandered as McGonagall rolled on about what had happened in Hogwarts while he was in a severe coma for the past few days. No one but him knew of his adventure, how for a period of months he had traveled back in time, to 1896. Not as though anyone would believe him if he dared!

Yes, he had befriended the Opera Ghost, and the Opera Ghost, in turn, had befriended him. But there had been a terrible fight, Erik and Snape against Raoul and Christine. Four magical people, Snape the best trained of them all. You would have thought he would have won . . . but, of course, he had to be drunk at the time!

This was Snape's most perturbing knife, poking and prodding his already bleeding heart. He had lost a friendship—nay, the closest friendship that he ever experienced--and he come back to his lifetime after being Avada-kedavra-ed.

Perhaps, he thought, it was all for the best. Snape had not realized how much people (at least McGonagall) liked him here. It sometimes takes an illness for one to realize that other people do, in fact, care.

Yet Severus could not help lamenting the loss of Erik. Horrible Erik! Made beautiful by Snape's own wit and charms, transformed from one of the basest forms of man to one of the highest. Though Severus would not admit it to anyone but the other man himself . . . he had grown rather fond of the hated Opera Ghost, though towards the end their friendship had become a bit shaky because of Christine . . .

But, Snape knew, Erik probably did not have a chance against Christine and Raoul combined. He might have won if Raoul had battled alone, but Christine was too good: she knew the Avada Kedavra. How, if Severus had himself died in one time and returned to another, could Erik survive? The Phantom was not a very experienced wizard, despite the fact that he and Severus were of the same exact age!

Minerva was saying something pertinent to him.

"Severus, would you like me to fetch you some pudding? Stollen? Anything at all?"

Severus opened his eyes. "You are going down to the feast, then?"

"Yes. The headmistress must make an appearance and speech, of course."

Snape nodded. "Just some coffee. I desperately need coffee."

"Black?"

"Perfectly."

Minerva whisked herself away, probably quite hungry from sitting with Severus since the early morn.

Left alone, Severus closed his eyes once more and wished, futilely, that he would awake in his bed at Erik's house, and that the Opera Ghost would be shaking his shoulder fiercely.

His mind dwelled on this so greatly, however, that he thought it his imagination when his shoulder did feel the pressure of a heavy hand!

"Do not torment me," Severus muttered, a verbal instruction to his brain.

"Is this torment?" A familiar voice queried, hurt.

Snape's eyes flew open to see . . . the ceiling. He blinked. A firm hand did then turn his head just slightly, and Snape's heart flew to his mouth.

"Erik! What the devil!"

For the Opera Ghost stood before him, a dim smile upon his face and his clothes in a reproachable condition.

"Great Scott!" This was almost as joyous for Snape as when, eons ago, Lily had nestled against him, with nothing but a tablecloth . . .

Erik sat on the bed next to him with some difficulty, for it was rather high. The bed squeaked, but did not collapse.

"Happy to see me, eh?" Erik took his friend's hand and held it warmly. If Snape was not mistaken, he observed the slightest wetness at the Phantom's eyes.

Snape put on a look of sarcastic "No, I didn't," but it did not succeed longer than a moment.

"I know it has only been a few hours since you left me," Erik continued, "Or so it would seem to you."

Severus nodded. "But it was longer for you, I presume?"

"Much." Erik slipped off the bed and took a seat in the chair Minerva had vacated.

"Do explain. What happened between then and now?"

Erik shook his head in assent. "Of course. I thought you would ask . . ."

To Be Continued!!

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