Disclaimer: I do not own the characters and/or story line of the Phantom of the Opera. The characters and plot line that I have used are based off of the 2004 movie and also some parts of the ALW play (therefore I will use quotes from the movie and/or play). The only character that I claim to own is the ballet dancer, Cosette. I should also mention that even though I am a full supporter of Erik/Christine pairings, this will be an Erik/Meg pairing.
Reviews are appreciated! However, this is my first fan fic, so please be nice! Thank you, and enjoy!
Paris 1919
It was a cold and blustery November morning in Paris. The old opera house was holding an auction before renovating for a new theater. It was not crowded, the bidders consisting of a few junk dealers and a couple middle class Parisians.
The old woman in black gazed nonchalantly at the items that were being presented by the porters. In her time, when she was employed at the Opera Populaire, these items were merely props used for the stage productions. They meant nothing to her then, and still held no place in her heart. She was here out of pure curiosity.
The auditorium was in complete shambles. Layers upon layers of dust covered everything from the stage to the beautifully sculpted statues. At the far back of the theater, there was a massive canvas covering what she assumed to be the shattered chandelier. The memory of the destruction of the opera house was enough to cause chills to creep along her skin. A disastrous fire had occurred that night, and so many people had been killed. The screams still echoed faintly in the back of her mind.
"Lot 663, then, ladies and gentlemen: a poster for this house's production of Hannibal by Chalumeau."
The porter rolled out the large theater poster, the famous diva La Carlotta pictured under the title.
"Do I have ten francs?"
Seeing that there were no bidders, the auctioneer lowered the price. "Five then. Five I am bid. Six…"
Another man raised his hand. "Seven…against, you sir, seven. Eight? Eight once. Selling twice. Sold, to Monsieur Deferre. Thank you very much, sir."
The woman in black was becoming fatigued, seeing as there was nothing of interest. It was then that an elderly man was wheeled in by a nun, and accompanied by driver. She stared at him for a moment until he returned her gaze, recognition apparent in his eyes.
"Lot 664: a wooden pistol and three human skulls from the 1831 production of Roberte le Diable by Meyerbeer. Ten francs for this. Ten, thank you. Ten still, fifteen, thank you. Fifteen I am bid. Going at fifteen."
The auctioneer slammed his gavel.
"Your number, sir? Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen: a papier-mâché musical box in the shape of a barrel-organ."
The woman broke her stare at the man in the wheel chair, suddenly interested in what the porter was showing. Apparently, so was the gentleman, for he motioned to his nurse his want.
"Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theater, still in working order ladies and gentlemen."
"Showing here." The porter set the music box in motion.
A haunting tune echoed from the little box as past remembrances flooded the minds of both the old man and the woman. Both were determined to out bid the other.
"May I commence at fifteen francs?" the auctioneer asked.
The woman raised her hand.
"Fifteen, thank you."
The man was next to bid. "Yes, twenty from you sir, thank you very much."
Again the woman raised her hand. "Madame Giry, twenty-five. Thank you madam. Do I hear thirty? Thirty!"
Madame Giry looked again at the man in the wheel chair. Her gaze softened as she realized how much this piece meant to him. Surely he would have a better use for it then her.
"And thirty-five?" the auctioneer continued.
She shook her head and the old man seemed to have let out a sigh of relief.
"Selling at thirty francs then. Thirty once, thirty twice…sold for thirty francs, to the Vicomte de Changy. Thank you sir."
The porter handed the Vicomte the music box, and he held it within his feeble grasp as if it was the most precious thing he had ever received. Madame Giry noticed a tear stream down his right cheek.
"Lot 666 then: a chandelier in pieces."
The small crowd turned their attention to the back where the canvas lay over the broken piece.
The auctioneer continued with a story. "Some of you may recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera: a mystery never fully explained. We are told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier which figures in the famous disaster. Our workshops have repaired it and wired parts of it for the new electric light. Perhaps we can frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination. Gentlemen?"
With a whirlwind of dust a cobwebs, the canvas was removed and the chandelier was lifted from the floor. The site of the lit chandelier caused the Vicomte and Madame Giry to gasp. For a brief moment a vision of the restored Opera Populaire flashed in front of their disbelieving eyes.
It was not raised to the top, but high enough for all to see. Neither could believe that this was the elegant chandelier that once donned the extravagant theater…
The remains were bought by a wealthy aristocrat who had wandered into the auction at the last minute. He explained to his scolding wife that he meant to have it reconstructed and donate it back to the repaired opera house.
"It is where it belongs." He stated simply.
The crowd left the opera house in silence. Madame Giry watched from the steps as the Vicomte was helped into his car. Where was the young, dashing boy she had known so long ago?
He gazed out the window and nodded his head towards her in farewell. Madame Giry returned the gesture, sure that it would be the last time she would ever see him.
She then removed her glove and looked down at the ring that adorned her right hand. There was one more place she had to visit before she left Paris…