Chapter 11
A Phantom is warned and old friends appear
October 3rd 1870, Sunday, Hogwart's, 09:00 PM (Paris time)
Dumbledore's Office,
I transform and pass quickly through the Forest, and in a few minutes I reach Dumbledore's office. He's reading, the window is open and I enter and transform back.
"Christine." He looks at me. "He knows?"
"He took my diary. He can read it. But I switched it by our journal. So I had an idea…"
"I'm all hears."
"How about we write him? Right now?"
Albus is silent for a while. Curse his love for dramatics…
"Is that wise, Hermione?" I partially nod, as though I'm seriously thoughtful…
"No, not really." I smile, a yellow smile.
"You like him, don't cha?" teasing, he has that damn twinkle in his eyes.
"I don't know what you mean, Bill." Here goes the staring competition. (AN1)
"You know I hate that name." His eyes twinkle, never breaking contact with mine.
"You know I hate when you tease me in heart affairs and play Mr. Matchmaker with me." My eyes are reduced to narrow slits.
"Liar. You love me." He blinks. Ha! I win, again.
"If you say so." I reply coolly.
A few hours later, we had made another journal for me. Now, the three journals were connected. The ghost's journal would respond if I wrote Erik and so on for the other journals. If no name was written, all three of us would be able to read it. But for the time being, I decided that Erik would not know it was me.
October 3rd 1870, Sunday, Opera Populaire, 11:30 PM
After getting hold of my journal I apparated to the roof.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good." So Erik was still in his cellar, in his study… I gather the invisibility cloak around me and apparate to his living room. I see him come here, checking things. Bugger, he must have heard the popping sound. Ha, no harm done. I move silently to his room, past his desk and settle on the floor. He was making a drawing of me and tries to return to it. I make his journal open on the first blank page, in a most loudly way, making him stare at it. Then I focus, hovering and moving my wand hand in my journal page, after my last conversation with Albus, and move it, revealing a strange handwriting, different from mine. 'Ah, altering spells', I mentally drawl. A simple word…
Hello…
Erik suddenly stands, causing the chair to fall, gaping at the page.
… You should learn not to mingle in what is not your business. It is very rude, trying to unveil a lady's secrets without her permission. Not nice at all.
Five minutes passed.
Is this going to be a one sided conversation?
He lifted an eyebrow in a naturally graceful gesture. Merlin, how can that man be so elegant and dashing and and …. Did I just think that? Ugh… bad Christine!
Very well. Consider yourself warned.
I wave slightly, silently shutting both journals. He leaves the room quickly, perhaps to retrieve something. I grab his journal and apparate back to Madame Giry quarters. Like I thought, she and Meg are alone, conversing about me and this Raoul man. I quickly explain them everything. There is a long silence in the room, while we drink tea. Both of them are a little worried. Madame is about to open her mouth, but…
"Sermons later. Who is this Raoul?" I ask, curious.
"One of the patrons. He was a childhood friend of yours, of young Christine, Little Lotte, but I suppose you don't remember… I met him today." Meg answers.
"Met him?" I quirk an eyebrow.
"Y-yes…" she blushes, I smirk evilly.
"Good Lord Meg, it's not as if I'm going to bite you! I don't even know who he is."
So, I met the guy about six years ago. Apparently he had not forgotten me and looked for me today. He recognised me when he heard me sing on the stage, during a rehearsal. That's all I needed now, some moron trying to get in my way.
"What will my voice coach think of all of this?" I muse. Then there is warmth in my bosom – the ring.
"You should not toy with him, dear", said Madame.
"I suppose."
'But he did not need to take my diary.' I mentally added.
"Now he'll know something is definitely up.", shudders Meg.
And what would that be, ladies?
Both women stand and pale considerably at the Phantom's booming voice. I can tell he is not happy.
Why so silent? Is this going to be a one sided conversation?
They are oblivious to this and I try to look as confused as possible. My acting was never so good as to deceive him, though. Not completely at least, no.
Perhaps Mademoiselle Daaé would be kind enough to explain? Non? Pity. I suppose I'll have to deal with Raoul de Chagny…
He goes away, leaving that name in the air, his voice cold. I close my eyes. When I open them I see a scared Meg.
"Oh no", she moans.
I laugh quietly. Love is in the air… Perhaps I could use this to my advantage, after all… It's one moron less to worry myself with, and a happy friend, if I do things correctly.
On The Phantom of the Opera
The Phantom of the Opera was a very curious character indeed! I should, as a generous narrator, tell you a few more things about this murderous character. He lived in a cellar, a crypt so depressing even an ice statue would feel like kicking the bucket prematurely if forced to live there for so many years as the Ghost had. He was born with a half deformed face, which "earned a mother's loathing" as he says frequently, but no, it was more like a death face – no nose there, you see. That earned him the name of the Devil's Child, when he was exhibited as a morbid and of dubious taste attraction in a fair, suffering physical abuses for years, until he could take no more and, after swiftly killing his captor, escaped thanks to a then young girl called Antoinette Faucet, who would marry Gaston Giry and give birth to Megan Giry, and you can imagine the rest… Jolly good! Well, after murdering his captor (whose name, face and abuses he would much like to forget – no such luck, though) he left to the East and met so many people and did such wondrous and terrible things… when he returned to Paris, well, some say he helped building the Opera Populaire, others say he didn't, but in either of ways, it is unanimous that, for inconvenient matters, he settled on the last, fifth cellar below the Opera House. Superstitions and some mayhem, gossip and some illusions helped him turn into truth the legend of the terrible Phantom of the Opera. For many years he lived here, like a king, some would think, with the salary he received for all this years, but became even more spiteful (if such was possible!), annoyed and infuriated towards stuck up divas and incompetents in general (especially if they happened to be managers), depressed, lonely and sad. Yes the Phantom was truly a lonely man, only a man after all. He was a genius in many many fields! And whatever one can say, despite his… flaws, he was not cruel. As Leroux would say, he had a heart with the size of the world, and in the end he had to content himself with a cellar (not in this story, though…). Of course that was before she came…
He found Little Lotte (which we knew as the original little Christine) a very funny and sweet girl, with the voice of angel, and as such, never forgotten her. And when she returned, she was so grown up. Christine Daaé (in other words, our Hermione). There were many things he liked about her. She was truly lovely; she was rather modest towards men, except Albus Dumbledore, loyal, stubborn, determined, dedicated, gentle, and intelligent, an avid reader. Erik found himself fall more and more in love for her every passing day. And such a perfect maiden had so far refused each and every male who dared come near her, on her own decision solely, for her love for music. He loved her, desired her, wanted her to be his wife. But how could he achieve such feat? He did not wish to force her, but started considering malicious ways of realizing his desires after Raoul de Chagny came into the scenario. No matter she had not met him yet, the boy was a threat to his plans, he had, of course, seen him already. And the Phantom became restless, almost certain Christine would give in to this wealthy young man with a perfect face. That or the foppish bastard would convince her. And when he saw every woman in the House, apart from Madame Giry, sigh just to the mention of that jackass name, he knew … something had to be done.
October 7th 1870, Thursday, Opera Populaire, 07:30 PM
Christine
Everyone was rather nice to me out of pity and sympathy. The dancers and stagehands and even Piangi knew I had no one else except Meg and Mme. But it's so nice to live in my dungeons. Between rehearsals I roam through the Opera during the day and eventually try to avoid this Raoul. Something tells me I won't be happy to meet him. Meg talks to him once in a while and covers for me, of course. That way I'm free and she gets to have him for a bit more eh eh. And at night I stargaze at the roof. Where I am right now.
I can feel his gaze on me. Erik. We have not come face to face again. Yeah, we went back to me in the light and him lurking in the shadows. We are preparing to Gounod's Faust. Marguerite will be my part, he says. And I'll have my room back eventually. But I told him not to. All of this has been good; we speak more often and during hours after we finish the lessons. I found in the Opera Ghost a truly faithful friend – we have so much in common! He's intelligent, cultured… with quite the temper. Within a few weeks, if he ever invites me to his lair, I will tell him that I am a witch. But that's a bridge I can only cross after reaching it, we'll see how it goes. He speaks.
"Why don't you want your quarters back?"
"Angel…" I smile at the emptiness. "I'm fine the way I am. Free."
"Were you disappointed when you found out I was… only a man?" he sounds almost shy.
"How can you say such a thing?" Why am I shouting? "You are by far so much more than a simple man!" I keep slipping all the time – what is wrong with me? "Why don't you give yourself enough credit Erik!" That's enough, Hermione, girl, time to retreat.
And that I do. I ignore his dazed whisper of "Oh, Christine..." and run away. I slow down as soon as I exit the roof, but I know he's following me. And then, just when I reach the corridor two levels below I shock with something solid and nearly fall back, but am stop by two arms that snake around my waist.
"Christine?" I look up and apologize. I never saw this guy in my life. "It really is you Little Lotte!" I suppress my urge to roll over my eyes and I simply quirk an eyebrow, looking rather bored. "Don't you recognise me?" I nod a 'no' "It's me. Raoul!"
"Oh." There's an awkward silence and we just stare at each other. "As Meg Giry certainly told you… I remember nothing of that past. Now could you?..." My eyes are now on his hands.
"Oh, but of course." He releases me. "Forgive me." I nod. "When will I see you again, Little Lotte? We could have dinner and catch up, you and me."
"Don't call me Little Lotte, please. My father used to call me that, no one else… just don't." I finish lamely. 'Little Lotte is gone, Raoul' I think and sigh. 'Dead.'
"As for dinner, Raoul… I have a tight schedule, so dinner is out of the question, sorry. Maybe another time? I must meet with my voice teacher for practise, so if you'll excuse me…" I start walking and he follows.
"Meg told me about your voice teacher…", he looks like he's trying to extract some information in an innocent way.
"Oh really?"
We descend stairs and reach the stage; it is still crowded with materials for tomorrow's rehearsal.
"Well, not much. She said she never met him personally. And neither have you. The Angel of Music… sent by your father." He frowns slightly.
'Good one Meg…' I muse and simply nod.
"Yes I think you could say that." In your dreams buddy…
"Christine," he closes his eyes, stops walking and slowly continues "have you considered that he might not be an Angel at all? Only a man?... Christine?" when he opens his eyes I'm already going through a door.
"I'm sorry Raoul. I really should go. I'm late. Ta ta." And I disappear.
When I reach our practice room, I'm really already late. I apologise to Erik, although I can't see him. We practice arias and scales and such. Then the inquiry begins.
"You were delayed?" sounds like a question but it really isn't. The voice is neutral.
"Yes. I met Raoul de Chagny."
"I thought you knew him already." Sounds soft now, but…
"You thought wrong, Angel. Little Lotte did."
"Is that so? Should I remind you that you must concentrate…" stern now, are we?
"…completely to music if I wish to succeed… yes, yes, you told me a thousand times…" I roll over my eyes.
"… and you still don't do that."
"I am dedicated." I snap.
"Yes. You are. But what of the time you are not to be seen on the Opera House?"
He refers, obviously, to the hours I spend in the dungeon, making potions or training Albus. Yes, he comes to my dungeon often. The Ghost knows nothing of that, of course. I cautiously remain silent.
"Christine…" it's never a good sign when he growls menacingly, is it?
"Angel, let us put this straight." I drawl dangerously. The room becomes even darker than it was, and very cold. "Don't push your luck. If you truly must know, I am helping Albus, for the war. If you don't like it, that's your problem, not mine! Now if you'll excuse me… Until tomorrow."
Through the path to my dungeons I almost meet Raoul and then some stagehands on the first cellar below, but avoid them successfully. I find Meg in my living room, talking to Albus, who would stay in the guest quarters for tonight. I had been making some improvements in my dungeons, they were much bigger now. I love magic…
I quickly inform them of today's matters. Albus agrees that this Raoul should be dealt with.
"Meg's on it, Albus. But he suspects of Angel and the Phantom suspects of Raoul. He is growing jealous."
"Meg could remain with this boy and you could pretend to be in a relationship."
"With you? Angel will find out… and I think he won't like it."
We hear music from the next room and I peek through the portrait's eyes.
"He plays like a God" I sigh deeply. "What!" I hear Meg giggle and Albus chortle.
"You seem to fancy our residencial ghost…" Meg coughs at this and laughs loudly at my red cheeks.
"Sod off."
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Please, do read AND review! ;) Reviews make me happy and I'll update sooner…
AN1 - People used to ask me "Where's your Bill?". Anyway it's a private joke of mine… I'll come up with something for Albus later. Eh!
