Disclaimer: I do not own, any of the original characters, so please don't sue me. However, I do own Catherine and Philippe, so please ask me if you are going to use them (and why would you?).

Author's Note: Wow, this chapter came quick. It's my longest one so far. Yay! Review Responses are at the end. Without further ado, on with the story.

Chapter 3

"Why?" The question hung in the air for minutes, but still no answer was forthcoming. Meg seemed unable to answer. Catherine asked again, this time with more power in her voice. "Why?"

Meg drew a shuddering breath, and replied, "The managers did not say, but one can only assume that it is due to a lack of funds." Catherine nodded, since the incident of 5 years before very few had been willing to become a patron for the 'cursed' opera house.

"Do you think that if more funds were offered that they might be able to keep it open?" Meg shook her head.

"I doubt that they would want to. They would probably want to sell it rather than take on a new patron." Meg sighed. The Opera house was everything to her. It was where she had grown up. It was where her friends were. It was her life.

Catherine could see the look on their faces. She knew this was their home, but not just theirs, it was the home to all the other dancers, singers, stable hands, and it was Christine's old home. Christine had been like a sister to her, and she had loved this place. She would never say that if Raoul was close enough to hear her, but she said it to Catherine often. She would not want to ever see this place close, so if it was in Catherine's power to keep it open, she would. Funds would not be a problem. Half of the De Changy fortune was hers by right.

"Philippe, could you stay with Madame Giry while I go talk to the managers?"

"Can't I go with you Auntie? Please." He gave her a small pleading look, but she could not give in right now.

"Not now, why don't you go cheer them up?" Philippe pouted a little, but then went to go do as he was told.

Catherine set her suitcase down, and once again entered the Opera house, but this time for a very different purpose. Remembering all that Christine had told her of the Opera house, she turned right, and came to a stop out side the door to the managers' office. She stopped and prepared herself, and knocked.

A short rather stocky man opened the door. Monsieur Andre gave her an odd look but let her in anyway. She was the fist to speak. "I hear you are planning on closing the Opera house."

They gave her another odd look, but this time Monsieur Firman responded. "Yes, tonight's performance shall be the last, but may I be so bold as to ask what business of yours this is?"

Catherine nodded. "Of course you may ask, and you're in luck because I will answer." They were rather flabbergasted, which caused her to smile. "I would like to purchase the Opera house. I am here because I would like to know the price."

If they were shocked before, they were even more so now. "Madame…"

"Mademoiselle"

"Mademoiselle, I really don't think this is a good idea. I mean this is a rather expensive purchase to make on your own, and besides it would be too much of a responsibility…."

Catherine shook her head at their foolishness. "I assure you I can handle the responsibility, as to the price, that is what I am inquiring about, although I am sure I could probably afford it. Please, gentleman think, you can sell me the Opera house or you could simply close it which would leave you with a loss of money. Now name your price."

This time they answered her, although somewhat unwillingly, "We shall not part with it for less than 150,000 francs." They thought the price would discourage her, even though it was only about half of what they paid. They were wrong.

"Done. If you gentleman will accompany me to the bank, I will happily pay you there."

Shock was evident on their features, and she could not quite suppress her smirk. "I will leave you to gather the necessary paperwork. In exactly one hour, I will meet you at the entrance, where we may further discuss any details. Gentleman, I will now take my leave." with that she turned, and walked out, knowing it could quite possibly take them the full hour for their brains to process what had just happened.

For the third time that day, she found herself just outside the entrance to the Opera house. Madame Giry seemed over her shock, but then again that could be because Philippe had grabbed her scarf and run off with it. Catherine tried not to smile, knowing it would only encourage him, but she couldn't help it. What happened next caused that smile to disappear.

------(should I just end the chapter there?)----
------(no that would be mean)------------------

Philippe had run out toward the side walk, and one of the shoppers from the nearby market had started screaming when she saw him. Moving more quickly than she had ever moved in her life, Catherine ran down the steps and pulled Philippe to her.

"WHAT IS THAT THING?!" the woman's pitch made her ears want to bleed. She glared up at the woman who looked near hysterics. Her voice was deadly.

"I suggest you leave." The woman needed not second bidding and ran. Philippe was crying into his aunt's dress, scared by the woman. Catherine just held him, not knowing what to say. Philippe looked at her, with a desperate question in his eyes. The pain she saw there nearly killed her. She could understand the woman's screams. Philippe's skin was a deep red, almost black on much of his arms and face, not to mention the obious scars where the doctor had had to cut away some of the burnt flesh. The woman had seen what looked almost like a demon, but to Catherine he would always be her nephew, and an innocent little boy, who had no control over what he looked like as a result of that fire.

She knew she had to get Philippe inside quickly, people had already begun to gather. Scooping him up, she carried him into the entrance, stopping just long enough to make sure that Madame Giry was coming as well. She was.

Catherine was still holding Philippe, and Madame Giry had thought to grab the suitcases. (remember them? they were still there from chapter 1) They nearly flew down the first couple of corridors, but had slowed to a normal pace as they reached the dormitories. Madame Giry opened the door for her, and set the suitcases to the side, and then, sensing that Catherine needed time alone with Philippe, turned to leave. Catherine stopped her. "Would you please come back in a about 45 minutes?"

Madame Giry was puzzled but replied in the affirmative. Catherine continued to hold Philippe, gently rocking him, not knowing how to answer the question she could see coming. Thankfully it didn't come then as Philippe was too busy crying. She held him to her tightly. In an attempt to calm him down she began to sing, her voice was not great, but still she thought to calm him, and so sang the lullaby she had heard Christine sing to him many a time.

Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation

Darkness wakes and stirs imagination

Silently the senses abandon their defenses

Helpless to resist the notes he writes

For he composed the Music of the Night

Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splender

Grasp it sense it tremulous and tender

Hearing is believing

Music is decieving

Hard as lightning

Soft as candlelight

I dared to trust the Music of the Night...

She did not have to finish the song, for Philippe had already fallen asleep. She sighed, and lay him on the bed.

For the first time since she had entered, she looked around their new room. It was rather small, but comfortably furinshed. There was a dressor to the lift sid of the room, next to a window, that offered a view of the street below. There was the bed in one corner, and a desk and chair against the opposite wall. The only other thing of note in the room was a full length mirror with an ornate frame. This she stepped up to, in order to check her appearence. Her hair was nearly popping out of it's pins, and her dress was creased, and wet from where she had held Philippe while he cried.

She removed a dress from her suitcase, and put it on. Then stopped to brush and repin her hair. This time when she stopped to look in the mirror she appeared much more composed. Her dress was a warm forest green, that gathered at the waist, and then flaired out to accentuate her rather small waist, and there was gold beading on the bust. The neck line was rather modest, and it suited her. She attempted a smile into the mirror, but it looked fake even to her and her auburn hair had already begun to strain at the pins. She sighed and decided to wear it down. She sat at the desk and began to scetch the scene from outside her window, both to help her relax and gather her wits and to pass the time till Madame Giry would return.

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Review Responses:

ElvenStar5: Don't worry, I would never close the Opera Populaire, but I may get rid of La Carlotta we'll see. In the mean time, we'll let Raoul stay duck taped to that chair, shall we?

Flare Conlon: Thank you. Sorry, about the cliffie, but it was kinda fun.

tomluver123: Thank you for your review. I'm sorry for any spelling errors, I try to avoid them but.... If you see any, please tell me so I can fix them. I tried to make this chapter longer. It's 1570 words not countind Disclaimer, ANs and the like.

Rowin: Thank you, for the review, and you're right Raoul is a jerk, not that I'm helping his case any....

Healing Hands: I apologise, I did not know that my phic shared a name with you, and I have remeadied the situation, so that no one can confuse the two phics. Development will come with time. I'm fairly new to this. I tried to include some more discription in this chapter. I hope that this helps. Thanks for wishing me luck, the same to you.

Author's Note: I hope that ya'll find this chapter sufficient. Don't expect all my updates to be this quick. This will probably be my last update untill after finals. Please review. Criticisism is welcome. Flames will be used to light my chadelier.