'I don't care what you do to capture this caca boudin, if this doesn't stop happening you can depend on my resignation, messieurs! For 10 years now this thing whatever you want to call him, Opera Ghost, Phantom, bully, he has been terrorizing us and we have been taking it, well no more!'
The person causing your ear to bleed with her shrieking, operatic voice is Nellwyn Granger, the Prima Donna for 10 seasons now, and the source of most of our hero's troubles. Let it not be said that she didn't deserve her role in the Opera House. She was an excellent soprano and very serious about her art form. She just had the bad habit of being a diva.
'Please signora, be reasonable, no one else is complaining and you should know better than anyone else the circumstances behind our little friend in the shadows.'
The managers was a well-meaning person. He wanted the best for their Prima Donna as she brought most of the audience in, but he failed to realize the repercussions of spoiling her so. He respected their crew, and mostly left them to their own devices. He agreed to pay the Phantom his monthly salary as compensation for what he called 'generous criticism' and 'lightening up the mood'.
In short, he was a pushover who wanted as little conflict as possible and avoided confrontation.
'Oh, yes, our little friends horrible circumstances, forgive me for not thinking of him. After all, he must tire from ruining all our rehearsals, how inconsiderate of me. In fact, since he doesn't seem to appreciate my work here, I think it would be in our best interest to take the hint. I will be sitting our next performance out. Let's see how you manage.'
And with that, she left the stage, leaving the cast to their own devices.
'What will we do now?'
'We just lost our star!'
'Is there an understudy'
'The production is new, do you think we have an understudy?'
Amidst all the confusion, a chorus dancer was wearing a big smile on her face. She went by the name Eileen Prince, her dark hair was flowing, just like all the other dancers, her costume was red and green, like all the other dancers, and her figure was lean, just like all the other dancers, yet something about her was decidedly different. Perhaps it was her air, her way of walking, or maybe the muggles could, to some degree sense her magic, whatever it was, they knew to be intimidated and perhaps the only one with whom she talked freely was Harry Potter, the subject of her thoughts.
'I believe I have a solution, sir.' She said. 'Harry Potter has been working on a machine that could do all the singing in Ms. Nellwyn's place, and I have full confidence in his abilities.'
'The boy who does our backgrounds and lights?' asked the manager, 'Well where is he?
By now, the manager was ready to believe in anything that could fix this mess.
'Um, I-I'm right here, sir' called a voice write beside the curtain. 'And Eileen is, I'm afraid, too kind, there are many kinks I have yet to fix, the machine can't hit many low notes and-'
'Ms. Granger's part did not require many low notes. I'm sure it'll be fine, show me, lad, I'd like to see it' said the manager.
Harry went backstage to his room. It was filled with lights, mechanical pieces, tools, costumes and blueprints. Amidst the chaos was a lifelike metallic structure. It looked like beautiful women, with long, curled brown hair and an olive complexion. He retrieved a remote from a cardboard box on his desk and fiddled with it randomly; at least, it looked random.
Soon enough, the woman was walking. Her walk flowed well-enough. You wouldn't notice anything robotic if you weren't searching. Harry was evidently nervous and cursed Eileen silently as they reached the stage.
Gasps were heard, the manager was clearly surprised that this wasn't a joke and his eyeglass fell comedically from his face.
'Well,' he said 'Let's see if it works'
Harry gulped visibly, but complied as the music started. At first, her voice was as shaky as Harry's hands. The manager had his face buried in his hands and poor Harry looked like a 3rd grader who forgot to bring his things to school. Eileen, however, was the epitome of calm and raised an eyebrow at Harry.
This seemed to bring him back to his senses and soon enough, one might have argued the machines superiority when compared to Nellwyn Granger. It certainly complained less.
The next night had the whole cast nervous. They only decided to go through with the performance after numerous rehearsals. The advantages of having the same Prima Donna for 10 seasons were now clearly visible.
Everyone had to get use to a new voice, choreography had to be changed and costumes remade. Harry had to familiarize himself with all the cues and lines. All in all, it was a miracle they made it through, now they just had to perform and never had these theatre lover ever wanted a night to pass faster.
Imagine their surprise when the night when smoothly. All the practicing made it natural and the crowd, it seemed, were also quite immersed. Especially a Mr. Tom Riddle, a new patron of the theatre, though he was not captivated by the show, rather, the person behind the new Prima Donna.
When the cast immerged to take their bows and credits were given to the inventor of such a new way of casting, none were unsurprised as Riddle, and none clapped louder.
'This performance wouldn't have been possible' said the manager 'without Mr. Potter here. I dare say, I've always considered him a son of mine and knew he would go on to do great things.'
Harry smiled awkwardly at this reception, but was too polite to counter it. Soon enough the applause ended. Kisses were exchanged, roses given, compliments passed and after about 30 minutes of this the excitement died down.
Harry was packing away the new star and cleaning the dressing room by himself when there was a knock on his door.