((Big fat author's note: Welcome to my fanfic. I would like to first of all advise you that I am VERY, VERY, VERY self-conscious about posting this fanfic. It's my first real fanfic. Second of all, I, Roseofluna, am only 13 years old. I'm still developing my writing skills! There are some great fanfics out there, and this probably isn't one of them. Also, I realize that Chapter 1 is exactly like the movie, just deal with it. The other chapters are written completely by me. Thanks for reading. ~Roseofluna))

Chapter 1

The Opera Populaire was abuzz one sunny morning in Paris. It seemed that everybody and everything was abuzz, as if anticipating some great figure to step through the doors at any moment. Every person in the opera house seemed to be bustling with news and gossip.

There had been rumors of Monsieur Lefevre retiring, rumors of a new patron, rumors including everyone and everything, and best of all, rumors of the Opera Ghost. Everybody loved to hear the stories of the Opera Ghost. He was a figure that everyone had a silent respect for. The stories were kept quiet from Mme. Giry, for she would swear it off and tell them that the Opera Ghost hated to be talked about, and that he will burn you with the heat of his eyes! Nobody had ever really seen him though. If they had, they never told anyone.

It was this morning, at the practice session of "Hannibal" that two rumors would be confirmed.

Every actor and actress, every ballerina, every singer, rushed down to the stage or to their spots for rehearsal. On cue, Signora Guddicelli began singing while holding a prop of a head,

"This trophy from our saviors, from out sa-a-aviors! From the enslaving force of Rome!"

Some winced at the notes she sung, some just tuned it out of their heads. Everyone was relieved, though, when she threw the prop to the side, and everyone began to sing the chorus while marching. Between verses, Madame Carlotta would go to her little pet dog while complaining of little things, such as her dress being too long.

Just as Signor Piangi finished his verse, Monsieur Lefevre walked through the stage with two men. He seemed to be giving them a tour.

He said to them, "Rehearsals are under way for a new production of Chalumeau's Hannibal."

The maestro shouted, "Monsieur Lefevre, I am rehearsing!" but was interrupted by Lefevre.

"Monsieur Reyer, Madame Giry, ladies and gentlemen, please, if I could have your attention?"

Everybody looked up to see what Monsieur Lefevre had to say. He was the owner of the Opera Populaire, after all.

"As you know, there have been rumors of my imminent retirement. I can now tell you that these were all true, and it is my pleasure to introduce you to the two gentlemen who now own the Opera Populaire. Monsieur Richard Firmin and Monsieur Gilles Andre."

Some were surprised, some were just expecting it.

Monsieur Andre smiled brightly and said, "We are deeply honored to introduce our new patron, the Vicomte de Chagny." He added quietly, "I still can't believe we managed to get him. It's such a coup for us."

With that, a young man stepped forth. He was a bit on the tall side, with slightly longer hair than most thought acceptable of men. He had bright, smiling features that could light up the room.

I had been standing with my sister, Christine, her close friend Meg, and the rest of the ballerinas while this was happening.

Christine said under her breath, "It's Raoul." Meg and I looked at her curiously. "Before Father died, at the house by the sea…I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts. He called me Little Lotte. Oh Alina, do you remember him?"

A memory, fuzzy on the edges, came to my mind. I saw a glorious spring meadow overlooking the ocean. Christine and I sat with Father and a young boy…Father was telling a story…I couldn't remember it at the time, but I was sure it was about the Angel of Music and Little Lotte. He told us those stories many times over the years, right up until his death.

"I have a scarce memory, Christine, of a little boy who listened to Father's stories with us. Was that Raoul?" I questioned.

"Yes, it was." Christine answered simply.

Meg had been staring off after Raoul, obviously infatuated. "Christine, he's so handsome!" She said.

The Vicomte had spoken to the crowd, and he met the main stars of the Opera. He told the new managers, "I believe I'm interrupting the rehearsal. I will be here this evening to share your great triumph. My apologies." And he left, and the rehearsal resumed. We took our places on the stage, practicing for that night's show of Hannibal. I paid little attention to the new managers, making sure I had my part right. I wasn't the most graceful girl, and I needed all my attention in one place. However, I did manage to pick up part of their conversation with Mme. Giry.

One of them pointed out Christine, "That exceptional beauty over there. No relation to that blonde angel there, I trust?"

Mme Giry replied, "Christine Daae. Promising, talent, Monsieur Firmin."

Monsieur Andre said, "Daae, did you say? No relation to the famous Swedish violinist?"

"His oldest daughter. Her sister is over that way," Mme. Giry pointed to me. "They were orphaned when Christine was seven, Alina three, when they came to live and train in the ballet dormitories."

"Orphans, you say?" Monsieur Firmin questioned.

"I think of them as daughters also. Now gentlemen, if you would kindly stand to one side."

That is when the ballerinas went offstage for the moment, and the chorus came back in.

At the end of the rehearsal, Carlotta screeched, "All they want is the dancing!"

She came up to the managers, "Aha, allora, allora, allora. I hope the Vicomte is as excited by dancing girls as your new managers, because I will not be singing!" And she stormed off the stage.

It was a pitiful sight, the diva yelling in Italian and pushing anyone in her path, with the managers groveling after her.

Monsieur Andre tried to reason, "Monsieur Reyer, isn't there a rather marvelous aria for Elissa in Act 3 of Hannibal? Perhaps the signora—"

He was cut off by Carlotta exclaiming, "Yes, yes! Ma no! Because I have not my costume for act 3, because somebody not finish it!" She put emphasis on the last few words. "And I hate my hat!" She screeched, though with her accent it sounded as though she said that she had eaten her hat. I stifled a giggle while Christine looked at me disapprovingly.

Monsieur Firmin said, "Signora, as a personal favor, would you oblige us with a private rendition? Unless, of course, Monsieur Reyer objects."

"No, aspetta aspetta." She cried. "Well, if my managers command…Monsieur Reyer?"

He answered, "If my diva commands." To which Carlotta quickly said, "Yes, I do." And walked quickly to the front of the stage.