Author's Note: Sorry readers about Chapter 2 being the same as Chapter 1. I'm still new to fanfiction, so I'm still figuring out all the knots and tangles. Sorry for the confusion. I was having problems updating.

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Chapter One

New Arrival

Spring was merciful to the citizens of France and arrived early. However there was another reason to celebrate other than the end of winter. A new reason that brought more joy to the citizens.

After three years of reconstruction and remodeling, the Paris Opera House had been restored to its splendor and it was only much more beautiful and magnificent than ever before. Much more grand than when it was before the fire. It still resembled the former opera house with its golden walls and the dome atop with a statue of an angel holding out a harp high to the heavens to bring music back to this once haunted place.

It was believed that the phantom had disappeared since that faithful night, but in truth, even the authorities had no idea where the phantom had gone to. But since they found no trace of him in the opera ruins, they believed he must have fled as well. It was only hope that with this new grand opening of the restore opera that it would chase away all the horrid memories of the fire from three years ago.

The people of Paris stood outside their doors and watched as the old company members returned and as new ones were hired. Most prominent of these returning characters were Madame Giry and her daughter, Meg. Even they were awed by the new restorations.

Carlotta also disappeared that night of the fire. She had grieve for the death of Piangi and most likely wouldn't allow herself to return. However some thought that she grieved for him so much that she herself went insane. No one was sure, but in its effect, no one actually cared.

A carriage rode up to the entrance to the opera house. It was a modest carriage that wasn't boasting of any grand wealth, nor was it one that promoted such poverty as well. A well, modest carriage.

The door of the carriage opened and young woman stepped out. She was only twenty years old with strong determination and will. She had long wavy copper brown hair with a heart-shaped face and pale complextion. What was more astonishing about her physical features were her eyes. They were such an impressive shade of violet that no one could capture on a painting palette. Standing five feet and seven inches she was well proportioned in the black day dress she was wearing. Her arms hidden under the white puffed sleeves of a blouse she wore under her dress.

"Would you like any help in carrying your luggage?" a footman appeared before her.

The young woman smiled. "Well, no, but thank you. I can manage. Besides, I only have a small trunk of my belongings."

The foot man stared at the small trunk he could spot in the carriage. "But, Miss, that trunk looks about ten pounds by itself. Are you sure you can carry it yourself?"

The girl was almost sick of hearing him treat her almost as if she were a weak, little girl. To prove she could handle the weight of her luggage, she picked it out of the carriage herself as if it were half its weight. It nearly startled the foot man.

She smiled one last time at the foot man who was still staring at her like she was something he thought he could never find in his lifetime. The girl walked in the house, carrying her trunk, triumphant almost. This woman was no weak little girl. She learned to manage herself.

Two men stood by the doors into the house, introducing themselves to everyone and asking for everyone's names. These two were the idiotic managers of three years ago. Monsieur Andre and Monsieur Firmin had no trouble in returning back to manage the opera. Even though they had been labeled as the blundering idiots, they did have a love for the arts.

The young woman walked up to them with a smile on her face, more for the very thought of being here.

"Good day, miss," Andre greeted with cheery delight. "I am Mons. Andre and this is my partner, Mons. Firmin. We are the managers of this property and may we inquire to what your name should be? We must ask this of everyone, before they enter."

"Well, Monsieurs," the young woman managed to reach around her trunk and shake hands with them both. "My name is Alethea Lanquerx."

"Well, what a beautiful name," Firmin commented, "You don't hear names like that anymore. Oh, my Andre, we're getting old. Well, thank you, Miss Lanquerx, please step inside."

Alethea stepped into the opera house, finding herself in the grand room where she saw the marble staircase reach up in the theater like arms yearning for the music. It was beautiful with its pillars that danced with bright and kind colors. The sky dome above that shined some much sunlight into here.

Even her parents had told her to come here. It was much more than just the physical beauty this place beheld, but her parents encouraged her to come her to blossom her talents in playing the piano. She was quite talented in that.

What excited her more than that was the mystery this place beheld. Yes, she had heard wide tales of the opera ghost who so haunted this house three years ago. Oh she wished she could have been here when that incident occurred. But she heard the tales of the infamous opera ghost and his obsession with Christine Daae.

Christine Daae.

Why did that name seem so familiar? It was more than hearing about her from the news or from the opera. But much more. For some reason, Alethea seemed to feel a closeness to the opera singer who also fled this place. But it seemed so familiar to her, as if she knew Christine Daae somehow in another way.

Her thoughts were disturbed as more people crowded into the room. It was once a peaceful atmosphere, now crowded with people. If only it would have last longer.

Andre and Firmin fought through the crowd to get to the top of the grand staircase. It was an immense struggle as it was filled with people.

Once they made it to the top, a stage-fright sort of feeling overcame them. They were almost sweating like there was no tomorrow. Andre managed to pull through. He hacked some mucus from his throat to clear it, which disgusted the audience a little.

"People, people!" Andre cried out like a helpless child, but he composed himself in an attempt to seem like the intimidating manager he wanted to be. When the audience quieted down, he spoke. "Thank you all for coming here today to become part of the new opera company. We hope for a new beginning that will overshadow the past events that occurred here, if some of you can remember. Well, no more talk of that. I see old members returning back to us and I welcome those who have come to us, new. Well, if you will please, follow Firmin and I into the theater, where you may sit in the audience anywhere you like and we will properly introduce rules and guides."

Everyone immediately chased after the pair up the stairs into the theater. The adrenaline and rush the people received by just being here was enough to inspire them to the best of their abilities.

Alethea was amused by everyone. She didn't see them as fools or any of the sort, but she believed that it was inspiring to be so driven. She was like that as well. It was almost new to be surrounded by more people like that.

She trailed along behind the rest of the group into the theater, where she found a more beautiful discovery of inner magnificence. The actual theater where the stage was constructed, was most likely the room that had the most remodeling done with it. The boxes had been refurbished with more Greek-like statues and structures etched in the golden marbling. Red velvet served as plush cushions in the audience chairs. The orchestra pit was rebuilt with more room for the instruments and musicians. And most prominently, the crystal chandelier was yet again suspended in its grand splendor as a symbol of its highest position for music.

Where was she? Alethea had never seen anything more impressive than where she was right now. It was like she was a princess entering a castle or stepping through a portal and discovering herself in a completely new world. A fairy tale only at the beginning. Alethea could only imagine the adventures she would experience here. Especially the catacombs. They should still have been existing as they weren't destroyed according to the accounts of the fire destruction. It was only more enticing as the authorities had discovered the living quarters of the so-called phantom of the opera down in the cellars. Alethea couldn't resist the temptation to sneak down into the cellars to see for herself. There might be some treasure or memorabilia that she would be able to keep as a memoir of this kingdom of music. It might have been called stealing, but she hoped that if the ghost weren't there, it wouldn't matter.

She took a seat in the back of the theater, setting her trunk in the aisle, but close enough to her chair so it wouldn't serve as an obstacle to anyone else passing by. She relaxed into the cushions of the velvet chairs and crossed her legs as she waited for this assembly to begin. It was only a wonder of all the places she would discover in her time here. Like a treasure hunt or like an explorer in the pyramids of Egypt.

It was another ten minutes before everyone had taken their seats in the chairs. Andre and Firmin could trust it was safe to begin their introductions and guidelines to everyone. Firmin took the stand this time and just like Andre, he hacked a huge cough of mucus to clear his throat, which wasn't as easy as it use to be. Age was weighing down upon the two of them.

"Well, good morning to all of you!" Firmin was as jolly as St. Nick, clapping his wrinkled hands together with his smoky, bushy mustache twitching above his mouth, like it had a mind of its own. "Welcome, one and all to the new opera house. You do not have any idea the appreciation and happiness you have bestowed upon us, by being here. To tell the truth, we were even sure if it were a good idea to reopen this place, but with you all being here, we have been assured that we were not wrong in attempting this operation." The audience nearly gave Firmin a look of confusion that made them feel like lab rats, the way he explained this was a operation attempt. Firmin could read the looks of offense on the audience, which had him regretting his choice of words. "Please. Wait. I am sorry if I have offended you by making you sound like an experiment, wrong choice of words there for an old man like me. Well, I would like to introduce myself as Monsieur Firmin and my partner Andre. We are the managers of this opera as were three years ago as well. For old members returning back to this place, hopefully the rules and guidelines are still fresh in your minds. Well, if not, then listen as I explain the rules to newcomers. To be a part of this place to accept any role, given to you, no matter how big or small. Some of you may be the next prima donna or you may just be a chorus girl. Some of you might become composers or musicians or just as small as stagehand. No matter what role you are given, you will aid us in every way. Now for people who want to be a part of the company like singing, dancing, music in any way, we need an audition from you. For men who fall under that category, you must see Monsieur Reyer who is the head of our music department. For women who fall under that category, you must see Mme. Giry, who has graciously returned to us with her daughter, Meg Giry as well. Actually, we will ask her to come out here on stage right now. All girls will follow her out of here to go settle in the dorms, or if you are lucky, a dressing room, but a dressing room can only be determined after an audition. Auditions will be held later though, so please be patient with us. Other than that I shall turn this over to Mme. Giry."

The audience clapped, but only in that dull manner, as if they just suffered the worse performance of their lives. A middle-aged woman with long mahogany hair that had grays rooting from the scalp, appeared on the stage. She had wrinkles etching under her eyes, but still stood with as much grace as if she were half her age.

"Girls, I am Mme. Giry," she spoke in deep sultry French accent, " I expect you to compose yourselves and show me that you have evolved to become mature young women. I do not tolerate recklessness or disrespect. If in any way, I find you unsuitable to be here on a good reason, I can have the power to send you packing. It is a shame to be banished from here. Understand?"

All the girls in the audience nodded their heads and Mme. Giry seemed satisfied. She gestured for another girl to come out on stage and help lead everyone to the girl's dormitory. The girl who gracefully pranced out on stage had the flare of a ballerina, but still a childish innocence. She had bouncy golden curls and peach-tone skin. Her bright blue eyes stared at Mme. Giry, waiting for directions. Mme. Giry tapped her cane and walked down from the stage.

"Girls! Follow me!" she called out like a mother scolding child.

As if she were a military instructor, all girls immediately followed out in a noisy crowd. Alethea chased after them as well after grabbing her trunk again. Other girls seemed to be struggling with their luggage which looked to be more than half of the weight of Alethea's trunk.

Mme. Giry was the leader of all the rats trailing behind except for the girl with the golden curls, who was here daughter, Meg. She was uncomfortable with the position of being an assistant to her mother who seemed to be able to handle on her own with the newcomers. So Meg decided to lull behind a little to let her mother do everything, since even Meg wasn't sure of what she was suppose to do.

She held behind till most of the girls had passed her over. She was near the back of the line when she began walking again.

"Hello," she heard a greeting voice behind her that sounded the most friendly. Meg turned around to find a girl with a twenty-pound trunk in her hands and copper-brown hair. But then she noticed the girl's eyes. They were so hypnotizing in just being the color of violet that they were. It nearly put Meg into a trance. She was able to realize that she was staring right at the girl without even uttering word.

"Sorry, for staring so long," Meg apologized to the girl and stayed behind a little more to be right next to her. "Are you new here?"

Alethea nodded, "Yes, I've never been here before and so far, it is the most beautiful thing I've seen in my entire life. Was it always like this? Sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I'm Alethea. Alethea Lanquerx."

Meg giggled like a child. "Meg Giry. Mme. Giry's daughter. You weren't here three years ago. In my opinion this newly reconstructed house is much more grand than it was before. But even if you were here before, you would still have believed this place to have been beautiful."

"Is there anything you can tell me about the.....opera ghost?" Alethea spoke with such caution, sounding like that if she spoke it so suddenly that a curse would fall upon the house.

At the immediate mention of the ghost, the color in Meg's face drained and she turned a sickly shade. "Um....I don't think this would be the best time to say anything. After all some people here can still be pretty suspicious about that."

Alethea felt stupid for asking a question like that. She should have taken into consideration the effect the opera ghost would have on the members that had been here before or during the fire. "I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's fine," Meg assured, touching her arm to tell her it was fine. "You're not the first be asking abut the ghost. Right now though, it's still a little early to be reawakening the past."

"Do you know anything though?" Alethea pressed, still being cautious of what she was asking, but trying to make some small discovery.

Before Meg could answer, the entire group halted in a hallway, as long and as narrow as mile with doors on each side. It seemed to never end.

"Girls, this is the dormitory. These rooms will house two to three girls depending on how many beds are in the room. Please welcome a roommate if you can, because there are limited rooms. If some of you are lucky, you might move into a dressing room instead. At the moment, please place your items in that room you choose." Mme. Giry nodded her head and tapped her cane, with her face held high like an official.

"Would you like to share a room with me?" Meg asked Alethea, who was surprised by the request. She didn't expect to have a roommate so quick, but Meg seemed like a nice, sweet girl, whom she could get along with.

"Sure," Alethea answered and the two wandered down into the corridor with the rest of the girls to choose a room.