Guide and Guardian
Disclaimer: I do not own Phantom of the Opera, however much I would love to. This story is a spin-off of the 2004 movie.
Chapter I – The Auction
Autumn leaves swirled as seventeen-year-old Isabella made her way down the chilly streets of Paris. She glanced at the surrounding buildings, all wholly unfamiliar, and tugged her tattered cloak closer around her shoulders. Where is the Opera House? She stopped a passing man to ask directions. He looked her up and down before answering, and Isabella knew why: Her dark skin and black hair immediately signaled that she was Italian, but the tattered cloak and worn mauve dress gave the distinct impression of a gypsy or prostitute.
A carriage bearing an impressive golden coat of arms rumbled slowly past, and he pointed after it. "Follow the carriage; they are selling the remaining artifacts of the Opera today." She thanked him and set off back the way she'd come. The carriage's destination was not far away, and she barely had to jog to keep up. It came to an abrupt halt and Isabella looked around eagerly, but they had stopped in front of the most broken-down building in all of Paris. Had the man been wrong? Isabella glanced at the door and saw a torn banner rippling in the slight breeze. 'Paris Opera House – Auction Today'. No, this was the place. She regarded the Opera House with a mixture of confusion and disappointment. Years before, this had been one of the most talked-about places in France. As a child, Isabella had dreamed of studying ballet at the world-renowned Opera Garnier, to become rich and famous. She had made her way alone from the small town of Salerno to the French border. Stopping at local cafés for shelter, she was quickly introduced to the mystical tales of the Phantom of the Opera. Isabella loved stories of all kinds, and learned as much as she could about the legendary musician. The best part of the stories was that everything the Phantom did just happened to occur at the Garnier Opera.
She stood gazing at the opera house now, and realized that it was just another broken building in the enormous City of Lights. Damp, derelict, and sporting a huge burned-out hole in the roof, the opera was hardly an object of glory.
Isabella came out of her reverie with a start: two people from the carriage were setting an older gentleman's wheelchair on the cobblestone. He was slightly hunched with age, but she noticed his sharp, bright eyes. The man's servants wheeled him slowly through the door, and Isabella scurried to follow them.
The auctioneer's gavel sounded harsh and commanding compared to the dreariness outside. A small group of people was clustered around the auctioneer, who had just sold a poster from the 1870 production of Hannibal to an older woman.
"Lot number 665, ladies and gentlemen," he called out, plowing on. "A papier-mache musical box; attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes and playing the cymbals. This item was discovered in the basements of the opera, still in working order." One of the assisting porters held the music box for all to see, and turned the crank to set it in motion. An almost haunting tune filled the room, and the man next to Isabella watched it with almost suspicious incredulity from his wheelchair.
"Starting at twenty francs," said the auctioneer. "Twenty-five, thank you Madame Giry" – the woman had raised a hand – "thirty" – the older gent nodded to his aides, one of whom raised a hand as well – "thirty-five, then, Madame?" the auctioneer challenged. The older woman looked the gentleman intently in the eye and shook her head slightly. The auctioneer pounded his gavel. "Sold for thirty francs to Monsieur le Vicomte de Chagny. Merci beaucoup, sir." Isabella watched the Vicomte as he carefully examined his new treasure. A quiet light came into his dark eyes, and she sensed that this small novelty held some special secret for him.
Their attention snapped back to the auctioneer, who was continuing: "Lot 666, a chandelier in pieces. Now, some of our older generation may be able to recall the strange affair of the Phantom of the Opera. We are told that this is the very chandelier that was destroyed and sent this entire building up in flames. Our workshops have restored it, and fitted parts of it with wiring for the electric light. Perhaps we may frighten away the ghost of so many years ago with a little illumination…
"Gentlemen?" he gestured, and an enormous drop cloth was whipped away. Sparks flew, and Isabella turned to watch several men raising the enormous gold-and-crystal masterpiece. A gust of wind blew through the room, and Isabella began to think her imagination was overreacting. She now saw the opera house restored to its former glory: the dust was wiped from the velvet seats, the cobwebs brushed from the elegant statues. Lamps sprang to life and the stage was suddenly polished.
From far away, she could hear a voice, "…thank you for coming, everyone…"
Isabella spun around. The auction was over, and people were beginning to straggle out the door. The Opera House was as ragged and decrepit as ever. She noticed the elderly woman, Madame Giry, speaking with the Vicomte. She wandered a bit closer to catch what they were saying.
"…so sorry about Christine, Monsieur, she was an excellent singer and a very unique dancer. You and she helped create a very lasting legacy for this Opera House."
"Thank you very much, Madame Giry," he nodded appreciatively and his aides slowly wheeled him toward the door.
Isabella quietly followed him out, wondering what to do now. She would have liked to see where Christine was buried, but she knew it would be inappropriate. Graves were not tourist sites. On the other hand, she also wanted to know (purely out of curiosity this time) what the Vicomte was going to do with the music box. She decided to follow him; the carriage moved slowly, and there was no doubt in her mind that she could keep up.
Okay, first chapter down. Review quickly! I've got lots more chapters if you like this!