Author's Note: Hi there, readers! Thanks to ALL the reviewers, at least the ones I see at the moment... : I'm sorry that I took such a long time with the second chapter, but I can promise you that the next one may very well be written and uploaded tomorrow! -laughs- I think I'm getting the hang of this, and I can guarantee that there will be humor in the chapters to come... -snorts- Yes, lots of it! If anything is confusing you, let me know. I'll be glad to clear anything up.

I was so excited when it came to uploading the chapter that I seem to have missed a few…grammatical errors, which I hope I have finally fixed. Don't hurt me if you find one :)

The Opera Ghost makes his appearance finally -Erik sighs, "Finally, indeed!"- , yet Katherine has not bumped into him...
-looks around- Did I just say that? No, I didn't. You didn't hear me say it... Read the chapter instead. xD

WHEN KATHERINE SILENTLY CLOSED…

…the door behind her, she dared not let her eyes stray too far, for she had this inward fear that someone would rush up to her and say, "You don't belong here, be gone!". She often had to go through that type of rejection a lot when she came to a new place. No footsteps came, and she made sure the door was tightly closed, just in case.

Katherine turned to find the Entrance Hall seemingly deserted. She allowed her blue, silver green eyes drink in all that was before her. She wasn't at all surprised to find her mouth gaping open, slightly. The insides of the Opera House were still unfinished, but showed a lot of promise and potential.

'I could help out with that,' she thought decidedly. Setting down her suitcases, as if they burdened her from exploring, Katherine moved forward and a bit off to the left – where, on a wall, a few paintings caught her eye. They all depicted scenes from the various operas earlier put on in the House, including Hannibal. Even a burned painting was hanging – despite the burns, it still looked fairly fresh. It showed a female soloist with her arms open wide to the burned corner, as if she had invited the fire.

'Odd,' Katherine thought, touching the painting, 'very peculiar, actually.' As she traced the burned canvas with a lone finger, she couldn't help but wonder what had been in the corner that the soloist was so happily inviting.

A shadow of some sort, perhaps?

Katherine continued to explore the Entrance Hall until she had found that she was brave enough to go up the short staircase which led to the main parts of the House, as well as the not-so-main parts.

Despite how mesmerized Katherine seemed, as if walking in a dream, she had the reason in her to pick up her suitcases. Unbeknownst to her, a small notebook she used to write her ideas in slipped out from one of her patched yet very worn coat pockets.

And, just as she had not heard it slip out, she had not comprehended, either, that a shadow had stepped out of the depths of darkness and had picked the book up.

Though, just as Katherine had reached the third step, her ears pricked up for a second. She froze, thinking that, if she was not hallucinating, she could have sworn she had just heard the soft swish of a cloak. Turning quickly, she hoped to catch whatever intruder had been watching her, but she had frozen up for too long. The Entrance Hall was empty once again.

'I hope I'm not going mad, so quickly,' she mused.

Up the stairs Katherine went, observing the light marble steps and the unfinished railing – it obviously needed a few coats of paint.

'Which is something else I could help with,' she thought.

Just as she reached the landing, Katherine heard footsteps coming towards her. She gulped. Hopefully, there was still some miniscule space in the giant Opera House for one more creative soul…

"Hello," Katherine said, sounding more cheerful and louder than she had expected to. This greatly surprised her, as her stomach suddenly seemed to twist in a million knots, she hadn't expected to sound so confident.

Three figures turned around and approached. There were two men and one elderly woman, who, just by the look of her, was obviously a master ballerina, and a teacher.

"Good afternoon, Mademoiselle," said the taller man.

Katherine curtsied unsteadily, slightly losing her balance (author winks…ermm…again) and said, modestly, "Good afternoon." She faced the three adults. In comparison to them, she suddenly felt rather small, almost as a child, who still had very little wisdom.

The woman obviously noticed her nervousness. She put her hand on her shoulder kindly.

"I am Madame Giry," she said, introducing herself, "and these are the… managers of the Opera House, Monsieur Armand Moncharmin and Monsieur Firmin Richard." Madame Giry motioned to both as she named them, and they nodded, looking curiously at Katherine.

"You're probably wondering what someone like myself is doing her at the Opera at this time of day," she said, nodding at their confused expressions, "especially with suitcases in hand." She shrugged her shoulders to relax her arms a little.

"Yes," said Firmin, "this is a curious sight to see in the afternoon."

"I understand," smiled Katherine, "It's just that, ever since I've seen this beautifully restored building, I knew I had to be here, to learn, and put my God-given skills to the test." Her eyes twinkled shyly.

The managers smiled while Madame Giry frowned, with a small smirk playing at her pursed lips.

Katherine couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. Did they think she was a madwoman?

"I'm sorry," she said. Katherine frowned a bit as Madame Giry continued, "but the Opera has all the dancers and musicians needed for now, and there isn't time to teach any new students." She smiled warmly at the young woman.

Katherine's shoulders slumped dejectedly. She plowed through her mind to find an idea that could be persuasive enough for them to let her stay. Katherine didn't exactly have a place to go back to… Suddenly, an idea came to her mind as quickly as a bolt of lightning. What had she been pondering all this time as she explored the Entrance Hall? She raised her head, but she had done it a bit too quickly.

CRACK!-

"Augh!" Katherine's neck creaked angrily from such misuse, and her hands flung to her head.

At the same time, she managed to drop her suitcase right on M. Moncharmin's big toe.

"Oo-oof!" he yelled, jumping around like a grasshopper, trying to grab his foot and not stand on it in the same time.

Madame Giry moved towards both Katherine and Armand, soothing both the aching neck and purple toe.

When the commotion finally died down, Katherine was able to spill out the idea which seemed to pull such clumsiness out of her.

"As I was saying," she laughed, her nervousness slowly flowing back into her, "There are other things I am willing to do until perhaps there will be room and time to teach another…"

"Such as?" Moncharmin asked grumpily. Firmin hardly managed to suppress a… (What was that?) a giggle?

"I can work as an architect for both stage and off," she said, "You know, a painter, stage decorator…" her voice suddenly became quiet as she watched the managers mold over what she had just said. Madame Giry's eyes suddenly smiled. She picked up one of Katherine's suitcases, and, unconsciously, Katherine reached for the other.

Firmin turned to the elderly woman, asking, "I do not think that particular position is filled, is it?"

Madame Giry laughed. "Of course it is not, Monsieur." She turned to Katherine. "Let us find you a comfortable corner for you to stay in, shall we?" She began to walk down the hallway.

Katherine followed her, thanking every footstep she took farther into the Opera House that she had managed to make it, if at least this far. The managers stayed behind.

Turning to each other, Moncharmin asked breathlessly, "You don't suppose she'll break my toe next time, do you?" His toe was still pulsing and aching painfully.

Putting his arm around Moncharmin, Firmin replied, "I don't think so," he smiled, "but it shall be interesting."

With that, they went into their office to do something that would get Moncharmin's mind off of his toe.

Somewhere near, in the shadows above, a ghost clutching a tiny book in his gloved hand watched the now empty hallway.

"So," he whispered deeply, "she's come to live at my Opera House, has she?"

He looked down at the book in his hand. It was not titled, which he found curious. He stuck it into one of his many pockets.

With a swish of his cloak – he cursed at the miniscule noise that had almost uncovered his hiding spot- the ghost was gone.

The Second Author's Note: Well well, another ...cliffhanger. -grins- Perhaps they'll disappear.. if you review! xD
Goodnight. -Author bows, yawns, and waves. -