It had been years, many long and painful years after the destruction of the Paris Opera House that Erik wandered the world, a pitiful and poor creature, all alone. Though no one quite knows how, he disappeared for a while, soon ending up in New York. Specifically, the New York Opera House. With his incredible genius, he made himself right at home, and within a year had a home built under the Opera House, and could traverse his way around the gigantic building as if it was his old home. And indeed, the insides seemed to have been modeled after the Paris Opera, because every room behind the stage was in the exact same place as before. All Erik had to do was install his own particular tricks to the walls again, and he was all set to haunt his new home until the end of his days.
In his months of construction, rumors started their inevitable spread. Building supplies went missing, non-descript items that were always there suddenly weren't, and a strange presence was seen wandering the halls. Of course everyone by then had heard of the disaster of the Paris Opera House, and soon all of the giggling chorus girls gave this new specter of theirs the title of Phantom. Now Erik was truly at home here.
On one of the later days in that year, Erik was weaving his way through the backwalls of the building, when he heard a girl crying in the room right near him. Being right next to the room anyways, he decided it wouldn't waste time in looking. Pressing his good eye to a hole he had earlier carved into the wall, he saw a young child, no more than 15, curled up in a pile of dusty painting clothes, sobbing into her hands. He couldn't seem to place her face, but he was fine with that for the moment. Having only been here a year, he did not expect to know every face that resided in his new halls. Before he could walk away and forget the moment, Madame Gaera's voice rose from down the hallway. That voice he knew well. It was the voice of the mistress of the Opera house. Very much like his old Madame Giry, but without the connection of him. Her commanding voice called up to the girl. "Christine, come down here this instant! We're starting the second act and you will loose your part if you're late again!" The crying girl, Christine, picked herself up with and start and raced out of the room.
The Phantom stood there in disbelief for a moment. He could not believe his eyes. For a moment, it seemed as if his beautiful love Christine Daae had appeared again before his very eyes. But no, it couldn't be. He decided to follow this interesting story until he was satisfied. He wound his way down to his favorite audience perch, and looked carefully for his darling Daae.
And he soon found her. But it was perfectly obvious now that she was not his darling from Paris. Because the first place she appeared was the orchestra pit. His child-like duplicate of the old Christine was a mere brass in the orchestra. He left, disgusted, swearing that no one could replace his love for the old Christine.
"Little Christine-Pristine finally appears. Not so pristine at all it seems." Michael, lead trumpet and pain in the ass, made his usual crack as Christine sat down in her seat, taking up her horn. She couldn't remember where he got the nickname from, but it appeared to please him and his goons, Paul and Jakelo. They were all that consisted of the trumpet section, and it meant that Michael never had competition for lead part. If the people in your section are your goons, you automatically get best pick.
"Come on Prissy-Chrissie, speak up, where have you been?"
"Umm, Michael, she doesn't speak, remember? That's why we tease her." Paul, the smart one of the group spoke up and showed just how many brain cells he'd shattered over his long trumpet career.
"Paul, shut up before you hurt yourself."
Christine sat there through all of this, quietly getting her horn set for the rehearsal. They would always pick on her, ever since they figured out that she didn't talk. Oh, she'd say a word or two when she had to, but her spoken vocabulary usually consisted of yes, no, sir, ma'm, and goodbye. Why was she this silent? Sometimes not even she knew.
"Are we ready now all? Good." Mantani, lord and conductor of the orchestra, began the rehearsal.