Opera of the Death (PotO fanfic)

Prologue

Paris 1919

Even though a whole year has passed since the dreadful events of WWI, to citizens of France it was still a rather sensitive subject, a fresh recovering wound one would say. That none would ever forget. 

After all the war has brought number of tragedies to all of them. Whether to those who had to be part of it and were in return forever marked by it,  worse hadn't even survived and the families back home safely hidden.

Viscountess de Chagny, was one of those who survived the horrors of the war and the dreadful times that it brought to her home. She too just like other families, friends and loved ones was unfortunate enough to get bad news of her beloved, friend and...brother in a way.

Her family (specifically sister) advised her to visit the opera to get some closure. With her past, and memories too.

At first she thought it foolish. Constantly giving the same reply, to leave the past dead and undisturbed. Yet the more she was reminded of it, the more she began to give it a proper thought. 

Finally deciding to go on a whim. To humor her family, and mostly her sister who, oh so persisted her to go.

Well, she now found herself in front of her personal car (with a little help of her nurse) standing in front of the opera that was long abandoned. Yet seemingly turned into a public auction. With the hep of her nurse she was seated onto her wheelchair and was taken inside the old opera.

The auction was going for some time now, but the Viscountess gave no mind to the voices any mind for she was admiring the inside of the opera theater. She noted how everything was different now. The entire place was covered in dust and cobwebs, the damages of the past weren't in any shape of form repaired. The only thing lighting up the place was the sun, coming from the holes on roof and broken glass of windows.. On the outside a truly magnificent historical building, but the inside was nothing bust a dusty old ruin.

Finally, she and her nurse found themselves among another few people of the auction. A rather perfect timing for the Viscountess to hear that a wooden pistol with three human skulls was an offer. Yet the offered objects wasn't what caught the eye of the elderly Viscountess .

On the other side of the room standing with others was a man, a much older one compare to her. He too wore black clothes like her with a black cylinder right on top of his head. By the look he was giving her, the look of recognition of sorts it was without a doubt he noticed her sooner than she did him.

They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, that they didn't even notice that the three humor skulls with the wooden pistols were already sold. Not until the hammer was smashed against the wooden alter.

Which caught the attention of them both. 

"Lot 665, ladies and gentlemen..." the auctioneer continued on, "papier-mâché musical box, in the shape of a barrel-organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order, ladies and gentleman!"

as the man was describing the new object ready to be sold, the porter came in front of him holding the music box, "Showing here!" he announced and set it in motion. 

Although the song lasted only for a few seconds, it was enough to fill the heart of the old Viscountess with emotion. And by the looks of it so has to the elderly gentleman too.

She never once went to an auction before. Not with the intention of buying anything at least. But the music box was special...Now it was her desire to get it.

"May I start at twenty francs?" the auctioneer proclaimed to which no one raised neither of their hand. He let out a small sigh as he tried again, "Fifteen, then?"

First some gentleman in the back raised his hand, to which the viscountess followed suit and soon after the elderly gentleman raised his hand too.

"Monsieur Giry 25...Thank you, sir!"  he thanked the elderly gentleman with a polite nod before looking at everyone in the room once more, "25 I'm bid, do I hear 30?" she gave a nod of aproval to her nod and she raised her hand, 

"30! And 35?..." the auctioneer tilted his head questionably at the elder gentleman with whom the viscountess was having as it seemed a contest of sorts over the monkey, music box.  They both looked at each other. 

The elderly gentleman had welled up tears in his eyes, that were seemingly read to fall from his eyes. This music box clearly meant to him just as same it to her. Just seeing the raw emotion showing in his elderly eyes, was enough to question him silently whether he wished to have the music box.

He looked back at the auctioneer with a sad smile on his face and gave a light shake of his head as his reply.

"Selling at 30 francs, then.

30 once,

30 twice... "

He gave a loud 'BANG' with the hammer to which the elderly man blinked away the tears. A crud man of his position couldn't allow himself to show such mannerism in public over a simple music box.

However to the viscountess it was quite clear there was a deeper meaning behind the tears, a different meaning behind wanting the music box.

"Sold for 30 francs,"  the auctioneer proudly announced, "to the Viscountess de Chagny. Thank you, madame."

Immediately the porter walked towards her and placed the music box on top of her lap before walking back.

The closer look of the Persian monkey, brought an instant wave of memories from the past. The longer she continued to look at it, the more she felt tears building up in her eyes, and her breathing became more unstable,

'A collector's piece indeed...Every detail, is exactly as he described...

Will you continue to play...When all the rest of us are long...dead?'

"Lot 666, then, a chandelier in pieces." the auction carried on, although the elder viscountess was now less interested than ever the mention of the chandelier abruptly awoke her from her memories back to reality,

"Some of you may recall the rather...strange affair of the Opera's Siren herself. A mystery that was never fully explained.

We're told, ladies and gentlemen, that this is the very chandelier... which figured in the infamous disaster. Our workshops repaired have it and wired parts of it for the new electric light."

As the man was both explaining and telling the story of the Opera, both the gentleman and Viscountess had their eyes pinned on the chandelier, not out of excitement, curiosity and intrigue like the other ladies and gentlemen.

"Perhaps we can...frighten away the ghost of Siren of so many years ago....with a little illumination." the auctioneer looked at his two helpers and with a small nod said,

"Gentlemen?"

nothing more had to be said. For they already revealed the once completely shattered chandelier, with a new look, but it was indeed the same chandelier of so many years a go. As soon as it was revealed the lights were back on and they began to pull it higher, and higher until it was seated back onto its' rightful place.

With the fresh light not only did it take away the darkness, but returned with a new wave of memories, that just like the sudden illumination hit the Viscountess. 

And suddenly everything around her became much brighter, much warmer to touch and to feel. Now there was no running back home, no turning back, she was trapped.

In the past that she so lounged to forget.