"Christine Daae, where is your red scarf?" A man strode into Christine's dressing room, seemingly comfortable in her environment.

Christine's eyebrows furrowed. "Monsieur?"

"You can't have lost it, after all the trouble I took. I was just fourteen and soaked to the skin."

Warm memories flashed back in an instant. Two childhood friends running after a flimsy piece of cloth at the beach. It was him! It was Raoul!

"You had run into the sea to fetch my scarf! Oh, Raoul, so it is you!"

"Christine!" He paused as he drew back memories of the songs they used to sing together. In a low, soft voice he sang:

"Little Lotte, let her mind wander,"

"You remember that too," Christine laughed.

"Little Lotte thought: Am I fonder of dolls?"

Christine joined in the lullaby.

"Or of goblins? Or shoes? Or of riddles? Or frocks?"

Yes, she thought, the memories were all coming back now. She remembered the wonderful times when the world didn't matter to her and Raoul.

"Those picnics in the attic," He smiled, pulling a chair and sitting close. "Or of chocolates."

"Father playing the vi-" Crash! A noise made both of the youths turn. It sounded like someone had just dropped a wooden crate and muttered a string of curses.

"Christine," Raoul grabbed her shoulder, "where did that come from?"

"It sounded like it came from behind the wall. But that's impossible; you wouldn't be able to hear something from behind it."

Raoul stood. "Is anyone back there?"

"No," A voice replied, "no one here."

"Who are you?!"

"No one! I -uh- THIS IS A RECORDING."

"Recording? What the blazes is that supposed to mean?"


"Raoul, I think it wants us to leave it a message."

"I think you're insane."

"I know what it is, Raoul! It's just the Angel of Music! He acts strangely sometimes, and I believe he's just playing tricks with you."

"But Christine, it sounds like it's coming from right behind your mirror-"

"It's just the Angel, Raoul! Leave him be!"

Raoul sat back down, defeated. "Fine, Little Lotte. I believe it's time we leave for supper. I shan't keep you up late. You must change; I must get my hat. One hour is all I ask of you."

"One hour?"

"Christine," Raoul whispered, "I think you could use some time outside your dressing room for once."

She stopped to consider. "Fine, but only one hour."

"INSOLENT BOY! DO YOU THI-" The voice was stopped when Raoul ran up to the mirror and slammed his weight against it.

Christine turned pale. "Right, forget changing. Let's leave now."