The Phantom of the Opera

Author's Notes:

This has occurred to me occasionally, and I decided to end it all and just write the friggin' thing! I'm going to see how well the prologue goes down - if everybody says it's rubbish, then I won't continue. I might continue anyway, though, because this should be great fun to write!

It will seem a bit complicated at first, so let's straighten some things out. This is based on The Phantom of the Opera, but set in Hogwarts. Harry is the Phantom, and he and Hermione know each other well. The school also knows that he exists, but he so rarely shows his face that mostly he is just a story.

And finally - I am a Phantom of the Opera fan, too! This fic is in no way meant to poke fun at the actual Phantom of the Opera.

All that said - enjoy!

--dan

The Phantom Of The Opera: Prologue

Clack. The sound of an auctioneer's hammer echoed around the once magnificent Great Hall at Hogwarts. It was a dark and gloomy place, cobwebby and dusty. It was, though, the only room remaining which one could safely walk into at what was once Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Many of the great towers had fallen, down, and the magnificent kitchen was disused, never more to have those delicious smells wafting around the portrait of a fruit bowl. An auction was being held here, to clean out the castle before it was demolished. An old man was wheeled into the Great Hall by two manservants as a small and stocky auctioneer spoke to a person who was looking very relieved. A few metres to the person's right was a very old woman who looked exceedingly frustrated.

'Thank you very much sir. It will be delivered to you shortly. Lot 665, then. A tragedy mask, we think. It was found in the Hogwarts dungeons. It appears to fit each face that wears it, and on the outside, engraved, is the shape of a lightning bolt. May I start the bidding at Five Galleons?'

The old man in the wheelchair nodded.

'Five Galleons then.'

The old woman clearly wanted the mask deeply. She stuck her hand into the air as if to strike a passing bat flying through the smashed windows.

'Ten Galleons on my left. Do I have fifteen?' The old man nodded. 'Twenty, madam?' The old woman nodded and, casting a vicious glance at the old man, raised her hand again. 'Twenty-Five, sir?' He nodded. There was something in the old man's face, a determination which made the auctioneer slightly uneasy. 'Thirty, madam, surely.' Again she nodded and this time actually knocked a bat out of the air. 'And do I have Thirty-Five?' The old man nodded impatiently. 'Do I have Forty on my left? Surely, madam, this article is priceless!' She looked on the verge of tears, but shook her head.

The old man breathed a sigh of relief. 'Thirty-Five Galleons I'm bid, then. Going once ... going twice ... sold to Sir Weasley! Thank you very much sir.'

The mask was handed to Sir Weasley. He gazed at it, long and hard. Tears began to well up behind his eyes. It was all so long ago. The details were fuzzy and merged, even in his accurate and organised mind. How can it have all begun? It was so very, very, long ago.

'Lot 666, ladies and gentlemen. A medium-sized wand. Crudely etched on the side is another lightning bolt. It was also found in the Hogwarts Dungeons, not far from the mask. Rumour has it that it that this was the very wand that the legendary Harry Potter used. When we found it, it was broken in two. We have restored it, and have added a more modern Acromantula hair to replace the ancient phoenix tail-feather that it had. It now casts all modern spells, quite a feat for such an old wand!

'Ladies and gentlemen, for this fine sixty year-old antique wand, may I start the bidding at fifty Galleons?'

Sir Weasley didn't bid. He was too busy gazing at the mask - the old woman battled it out with another, younger person.

Slowly it all came back. The details were very patchy, like in an overfilled penseive. But, he remembered it clearly enough. It had all sparked off with a beautiful woman carrying a secret.

Author's Notes:

Well there you are, just to keep you on your toes. More to come soon! I am looking forward to this so much!

I have already written the epilogue, so I can't stop. I might end up writing this on my deathbed!

Reviews please! (Alright, I know there's not much to review, but you get the gist of it).

--dan