Soul Healers Trilogy

Part I

Diaries and letters

Chapter 1 – The origin

Hogwarts – the second war ends

Eighteen year-old Hermione Jane Granger Snape was currently in Hogwarts, and the last battle appeared to reach an end. Being severely injured wasn't helping – her left arm broken, a nasty gash on the top of her forehead and a dagger in her stomach. Her healing habilities had reached dangerous low levels, having being exhausted by her powers overuse. She saw Severus, Draco, Ginny, Albus and Minerva struggling with the three last remaining Death Eaters – Harry and Ron were dead as well as Voldietard. She couldn't fight anymore not like this and like arranged, decided to go back to Albus' office – she'd be safe there and so would the sword and the diary.

'I'm almost there, almost at the Headmaster's office. I'll be safe there, as they told me. Almost there', she kept saying to herself, oblivious to Lucius Malfoy right behind her, hearing her hissing the password to the stone gargoyle, and cursing her loudly to death. She dodged it, and the curse destroyed an armour near by. Another hex followed that one, Lucius was unable to dodge a slicing hex as well as Hermione. The gargoyle turning blue in that moment, when Hermione fell in to it, from the strange spell, her Time Turner blasting and Gryffindor's sword glowing insede of her. Then there was nothing. The diary was the last remaining.

Hours later…

They still couldn't find Hermione. After a little warm fuzy chat with Malfoy Senior, Fawkes disappearance, and some brain wracking, they got to the conclusion that Hermione was sent somewhere, sometime. Dumbledore smiled and his eyes twinkled, knewing that she was safe. He hadn't forgotten that year when young Christine Daaé had come to him…

March 1st 1868, Sweden

Gustave Daaé, violin player, was entertaining a crowd for a few extra francs, already missing his daughter who followed him everywhere, except for today. He had left her in the cottage with a friend for an hour, she was sick and not improving. She was getting weaker progressively and now could barely talk. It had started with a strange fever in February that never truly healed. In the mean time, she went into a sort of vigilant coma and had not awaken yet. It had been 2 weeks already.

When Gustave arrived to his cottage, she breathed shallowly – doctor Lector was already there. He worried at her sickly pale colour, her eyes closed and when opened not responding to any lights, no reflexes at all.

"Gustave… she's dying. There's nothing I can do. I'm truly sorry."

"No! I lost her mother, I'm not losing her as well. Not you Christine, don't leave! You can't!", yelled Monsieur Daaé.

"It's over Gustave, she's not breathing and… no pulse. I'm sorry…"

Only shrieks of pain and crying could be heard for several minutes. Nobody noticed the girl breathing again, two minutes after her death.

"Where am I? What happened?", whispered a confused girl.

"Christine! Oh, Christine I thought you were dead!" shrieked Gustave. 'Yeah, me too buddy', thought the girl. "How are you feeling, my beloved daughter? Don't you ever frighten me like that Christine Daaé!"

While she was being crushed into a hug for several minutes, she did some quick thinking – 'Christine Daaé… and he is my father? How strange… The girl must have died, I felt a soul departing, and I'm stuck in her body. Perhaps her life strength wasn't enough. I'll have to play her part for now. It will be nice to have parents again. As for my memories…'

Christine's stomach growled loudly and the men laughed.

"Hungry my child? What can I get you?" asked Gustave.

"I feel like I could eat a horse. But…", she struggled with her voice.

"Now Chris you mustn't eat too much now, you are still weak.", said Doctor Lector. "What's wrong?"

"I-I…. Can't remember anything. Who are you two?" then there was a death silence in the room.

October 1st 1869, Paris Opera House, Paris

Gustave Daaé was, at first, rather worried for his daughter amnesia, apparently permanent. In the beginning she was like a stranger, she even preferred to be called Hermione or 'Mione, but he soon found himself, rather guiltily he must admit, liking this new Christine much more. She didn't pout and respected his will fully, if justified (most part of times, fortunately). She could be rather sly and sometimes manipulative, but always for a good cause or reason. She didn't appear to be spoiled either. She hated being spoiled, in fact. He couldn't deny anything to her as always, but she didn't tried to manipulate him. Thank the Lord! Except for one thing…

After Christine was perfectly recovered, they returned to the Opera House in Paris. There were still rumours about the Opera Ghost; actually he was more active than ever. Chris was fortunately oblivious to it; she seemed worried with other things. It was difficult in the beginning, a week ago. She couldn't remember anyone. She had forgotten how to dance. Her voice had improved since the illness, and she seemed more of a bookworm. But deep down remained the kind, innocent and sweet girl everybody knew before, of years ago. Right?

Hermione's, now Christine Daaé, POV

Wrong. I'm Hermione Granger. Was. It was awful at the beginning. Although I was pleasantly surprised to see I was physically still the same, my hair is brown and that's the only difference. Hermione and Christine. It's funny that I enjoy being called that way. I like that name. It took me a year and a half to recover and it is nice to have a father… again. I enjoy singing and dancing. Not like I have a choice but I enjoy it very much, nevertheless. I've always had a nice voice and even more now, I've learnt a few things here and there, I like to sneak and hear the understudy's voice lessons. She has as an awful voice, even worse than the diva.

I had enough time to think of my situation. Christine Daaé was not supposed to be alive. But she is. I am. I am Christine Daaé. I'm a witch among other things… they'd think I'm a freak. In a way, I am. I have to find wizards otherwise I'll go mad. I have finally convinced papa to travel to London. His reputation precedes him so work won't be a problem. Soon, very soon and I'll find a way to sneak up to the Leaky Cauldron and then I'll contact Dumbledore via owl. He's much younger now, but I have no one else! And I need to get a wand.

After all of that I suppose I'll come back to the Opera House. To sing. My room is rather cosy. The feeling of it reminds me of home. Whenever that is. There is a mirror in my room, I stare at myself sometimes, saddening me. Sometimes I feel someone watching over me… Ah, get a grip Christine!

November 5th, 1869, London

Christine's New Diary

Sneaking out of my room was easy. The entry to the pub was exactly the same. The barman even looked like Tom – probably his ancestor. Some things never change do they? I traded some muggle money I had earned for wizarding money, bought myself a wand, the Daily Prophet, some books and you which I promptly shrunk and then sent an owl to Dumbledore. I already explained everything in another entry. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I've charmed you so that only people who really love or care deeply for me will be able to read it. Otherwise it'll look like a blank journal. Dumbledore's rubbed it on me yeah…

So apparently the wizarding world is at war… no surprises here. Grindelwald is the name. Dumbledore was right. There's always a bad crazy guy ruining the day. And I thought I'd finally have some peace…

Anyway, papa didn't notice my absence – of course, I've got Ravenclaw's brains, Slytherin's slyness and courage is the cherry on the top. Well, we met. It was fine. So strange though, seeing such a young Dumbledore. He already masters Legilimency so you can guess the rest. He filled me in the details of the new war. He will defeat Grindelwald of course I already know that, but I'll be alert on the other side of the sea, just in case. I know, thanks to Albus, where to retrieve some magical stuff in certain areas of Paris…

We will remain a few more months in London. Guess what, I'm working at a bookshop – Albus' courtesy. The old witch, Selene, the owner (she also owns Hogsmeade's bookshop), gives me a few coins here and there, I really like her. I get to read all that I can. I'm ahead of this time, obviously, but there's always something to read, you know I simply can't help myself. I will miss them both, but I can always write them. Since I'm afraid of intercepted letters in Albus' case, I've thought of a journal, almost like Tom Riddle's diary, only Albus and me will be able to use them. It's going to be great.

March 15th 1870, Pas de Calais, France

Christine's Diary

We are finally on our way to Paris, city of lights. I've grown rather concerned with Albus. He is so much like Harry, concerning his parents, he lost them too… he is truly remarkable and a great friend. He's been giving me a few tips on wandless magic. I have been able to perform a few more complex spells! Albus after all had started tutoring me and Harry before everything, in our time. I miss Harry so much. And dear old Ron… I'll never see them again. All dead.

It's funny but now how its so easy for me to find other witches or wizards, it is almost as if I had a magnet.

I'm worried with papa… he's got this cough … but he is getting better. I wonder if he'll ever be as ill as old Christine. If so… I don't want to think about it; that I'm going to loose someone I love… again. So, I've done some research (big surprise there huh) on the Opera House. Apparently they had some sort of catacombs, people were tortured there… it's all abandoned now of course. I don't know how to enter so I'm working on a Marauder's Map of sorts for the Opera House; I think it'll turn out very useful… I need a place to breed potions and place books. I can't have them shrunken all the time, I don't know the entrances and I simply won't risk apparating on unknown ground!

We'll arrive in about a week.

May 25th 1870, Paris Opera Populaire – The Opera House, 11pm

The night of April 25th 1870 found Mademoiselle Christine Daaé locked in her bedroom, holding the Opera Map, sited on her bed, in the calm soothing darkness. She carefully tapped it with her wand and uttered "I solemnly swear I am up to no good". 'It really was a good one; who in the world would guess?', thought Christine. Words like "Miss Hermione Granger proudly presents you… The Opera Map" showed up on the parchment and then the room with a dot saying 'Christine Daaé'.

She was currently wearing 20th century muggle clothes, transfigured; all black, pants and sweater. Her soft curly hair was in a pony tail. Rising from her bed she observed people in the map; Madame Giry, responsible for the ballet corps, and her daughter were going to their quarters and so was her father and Jean-Claude (the nice version of Mr. Filch). Nobody was out in that corridor. The mirror in her room appeared to have other rooms behind, and granted access to other levels. She left her tiny bedroom and went into the small modest room, into the mirror, raised her wand.

"Lumos", she uttered. "Alohomora"

The mirror opened and Christine passed it. She closed the mirror pushing a lever nearby and waved lazily. A soft light spread around her, allowing a calm exploration. She descended several steps; the place was cold and full of spiders and their webs; and soon felt tears of mirth and sadness in her eyes; Ron would have hated it. She turned her eyes on the map, and decided to go down – there were long roads to the depths of the Opera ahead of her, every 50 yards they would turn and more different paths would show up. Christine didn't know what path to take; without the map she would have gotten lost. 'Well… I'll just follow my nose.' Deeper and deeper she went and then… she reached a black lake and the foundations of the opera house. She stood there and turned her back to the lake, and then all the hair in her neck got up, so to speak. She started to feel that supernatural soothing music that Harry had mentioned, turned and saw ….

"Fawkes!"

-+

I hope you liked it…