The reaction was instant, and startling.
One second, Harry was staring in horror and wondering what the hell he had done wrong. The next, he'd grunted with pain as his back hit the dining room table and the Beast's hand splayed across his chest to keep him in place.
The two pieces stared at each other. Voldemort was radiating fury, while Riddle was simply smiling – as if absolutely nothing out of the ordinary was going on.
"You should not be here," the Beast snarled.
Riddle merely raised a brow, his smile brightening. "And yet, here I am."
"How?" Harry just barely managed to voice the question. He straightened, recovering from his shock, only for Voldemort's grip to dig even harder into his skin. A warning to stay put. He dismissed it, batting the Beast's hand away, only for his arm to be gripped tightly and twisted.
Something flickered in Riddle's eyes at the not-exactly-gentle treatment.
"Doors are not one way, Harry," he murmured. "You know this. Once you have 'unlocked a painting', as you call it, there is the potential for it to open both ways, as the curse begins to weaken."
Harry jumped on that. "The curse is weakening, then?"
Not the shadow, but the clock. Not the curse, but the lock.
Surely this was good? Unless, of course, it was the darkness-spreading-and-consuming-everything type of broken lock. He felt a stir of unease in his belly.
"You're doing very well, Harry," Riddle replied, taking a step closer. Voldemort immediately took a step forward too, as if physically shielding him from the other. As if he was any safer with the Beast instead…
"You're not doing remotely well, if he is free," Voldemort said just as quickly. Harry looked between them, arm still held in an unforgiving grip, trying to decide which of those was more likely to be true.
He was yanked even closer to the Beast, his nose alarmingly near the gaping hole of the rose. The flower looked more withered than it had ever been – significantly more so than the day before.
Harry swallowed, then clenched his jaw.
"See, if you're going to talk to me, you should probably actually talk to me, instead of making jabs at each other through me," he snapped. That caused them both to actually look at him, instead of just staring at each other like wild creatures sizing up their prey. "There we go. Now …" He concentrated on keeping himself calm, despite the heaviness of his breathing. "What's all this about endgames and the Prophecy?"
He still hadn't worked out which piece was rooting for which option – darkness, cure, or just his death generally.
"You know the Prophecy's endgame already," Riddle prompted.
"He wants the curse to break, but in the case of darkness spreading, he wants me to take his place as the mainframe," Harry recited dully.
"Indeed." Riddle took another step forward, heedless of the look on the Beast's face, gaze fixed on him. "He also controls the paintings and the house. As you know."
The house was trembling ominously around them, doors slamming shut and open again.
"He let you out. Why?"
Well, at least that meant it wasn't entirely Harry's fuck-up.
"Did you imagine you are the only person in this house who makes deals?" The Beast's tone was laced with utter contempt. "The Monster is growing too powerful. He needs to be neutralized. Your stupid decision to give up the future verges on a sacrifice of your prophesied ability to break the curse. A Prophecy relies on the future, and you already promised the Monster yours."
Harry had never thought of it like that before. His insides jumped. He stared at Riddle.
"And you're the Monster's counterpart." His mouth had gone dry. "What was the deal?"
"What do you imagine the deal was?" Voldemort snapped, grabbing hold of him and once again yanking him back. "The one thing everyone in this house wants is you."
Harry's ears were abruptly ringing. It felt like the whole world had been submerged underwater.
"I … don't understand."
"I don't like sharing." Riddle shrugged. "And if you're trapped, chained to the wall for all eternity, someone might as well get to do what they want with you. He'd –" Riddle gave Voldemort a dark look – "just waste you in death and body parts."
Harry felt sick.
"I'm pretty sure the lot of you can't make deals about my future," he bit out. "How exactly does any of this neutralize the Monster?"
"Oh, it doesn't." Riddle smiled pleasantly. "But what I can do might. Everything has a flipside, after all." The Riddle took another step forward, and the Beast's grip tightened on him all over again, body shifting as if to hide him from view. "Now, give him to me, Beast. You know this is necessary. You're not going to go against the Prophecy's orders, are you?"
Harry's heart was hammering faster and faster, and the grip on his arm was definitely painful now.
"What's the flipside?" he demanded, mouth dry.
There was no answer. The two just stared at each other. Suddenly, Harry wasn't sure he wanted Voldemort to step aside and let the Riddle have him – however human he was. He knew that the Beast, as a rule, didn't take that which wasn't offered to him, if a rule wasn't broken.
"Why would you want to stop the Monster? You're the only one who seems to be on his side."
Outside of the confines of the painting, he had no idea what the Riddle was capable of. And whilst he wouldn't trust the Monster, wouldn't be so stupid, that didn't mean he necessarily thought it was a good idea if it was neutralized either. That might swing power too much to the Prophecy…
But could the curse not be broken currently? The Riddle had said it was being weakened. Maybe the Prophecy could only let the Riddle out once Harry had already left the door open.
There was something very suspicious going on here.
"Tell me what the flipside is," he ordered. "You're still the Riddle. You still need to answer my questions. All games come with an instruction manual."
"What is a counterpart, Harry? If we are doubles of each other … what does that mean?"
Harry glanced at the Beast, and then back at the Riddle again.
"That you're part of the same? A pair?"
"And what precisely have you observed about the pairs in this house?" There was a smile on the Riddle's face, and the Beast drew him back even closer. "You've noticed this, I know. Think."
"You switch," Harry said slowly. "At first I thought the Beast and the Monster were a pair, and that they switch at dawn and dusk, because to some extent they do … but even if it is day and night, it's not them that's switching physical forms. At least not with each other. You …" oh god. "You are the Monster. At night, you come out of the painting and become him, as the Beast is drawn into the painting and becomes the –" Voldemort squeezed his shoulder. "Becomes him," Harry amended. "But … if you're already out …"
What did that mean for the Monster? If the pattern of transformation was broken? Harry yanked away from the Beast more violently this time, surprised by the hammering of his own heart as he took a step forward until he was toe-to-toe with Riddle. "Where is he? What have you done to him?"
He had a strange feeling in his gut.
"He is in the painting."
Harry's brow furrowed.
"And … what happens when it becomes night?"
This time, it was the Beast that spoke.
"Then he's trespassing on the Nameless."
And Riddle had the worst smile Harry had ever seen.
Harry came to a panting stop before the Riddle's portrait. It would be night soon, and while Harry didn't know precisely what would happen then, he strongly suspected it might not be good.
Moreover, whilst he didn't know much about this curse – though maybe he was starting to – he was pretty sure he couldn't slot the puzzle together without all the pieces functioning.
He swallowed thickly.
The Monster was in the frame of the photo, straining against the thorny vines of the roses that had wrapped around his limbs. Their gazes locked.
"Are you just going to stand there?" Dark eyes flashed. "Do something! You're my offering, aren't you?"
For all the scathing in the Monster's tone, if Harry wasn't entirely mistaken, there might have been just the tiniest hint of fear. A vicious, wild fear that attacked instead of cowered, but fear nonetheless.
What did it mean about the Nameless, if even the Monster was scared of him?
Harry took a step forward, and the room gave an ominous rattle around him.
"He might not let you out, you know," Riddle said casually.
The Beast spoke simultaneously. "If you take another step, I will tear your legs off."
Harry froze, glancing behind him. His fists clenched at his sides.
"You can't come into this room!" That was how it worked, wasn't it?
"The Prophecy has protected you thus far," the Monster sneered. "But haven't you ever noticed that children throw temper tantrums when the game isn't going their way?"
This couldn't be happening. It just couldn't. He glanced at the window, wild-eyed. From what little he could see of the watered-down sunlight, it was slipping away. The darkness was winding tighter and tighter around them.
Suddenly, their jealousy for each other seemed a lot less amusing.
His blood was pounding through his head, fear souring his mouth.
"Because I can't give you my future if I give it to him?" Harry was trying not to despair. Really. "I can't break the curse and fulfil the prophecy without all of the pieces, either."
"We warned you about picking sides," the Beast said. "If you choose that abomination again, I shall react accordingly. If this curse is not to be broken, I should have the heart of the offering to sustain me."
The sun sank lower in the sky.
Despite the circumstances, he felt abruptly calm. Something must have shifted in his expression, because the Riddle's head tilted with interest and Voldemort stiffened.
"Haven't you guys got it yet?" Harry almost wanted to laugh. "I am the Offering. I volunteered. I chose this. And nobody gets to decide my future except me, least of all some panicking child with too much power in his hands."
And he leapt through the Riddle's painting as they lunged at him.
For a moment, Harry was terrified that the Riddle and Voldemort would jump in after them – but even now, Harry suspected there were things beyond even the Prophecy's power keeping them at bay.
He doubted the Beast could enter the same frame that Nameless would soon occupy. The whole point behind this mess was that they shifted. And the Riddle couldn't enter, because the Monster was already there.
"Untie me, quick!" the Monster hissed. "Then we can get out of here."
"How do I know you're not –"
"You have thirty seconds until sundown!" The Monster sounded absolutely frantic, livid. "Harry Potter, you will untie me this second!"
What the hell did the bastard want him to do – rip the damned thorns off with his bare hands? He nonetheless moved forward automatically, dropping to his knees.
The second he touched the thorns, they went for him in turn.
"Hurry up!" The Monster's teeth were bared.
"I'm going as fast as I can, you git," Harry snapped back, kicking one of the blasted things away and trying to crush yet another. "Be grateful I'm trying to help you at all." The devil knew, the lot of them were the most unhelpful beings he'd ever met. He'd said it once, he would probably say it again.
The thorns stung his fingers, cutting them open, but he managed to get one of the Monster's wrists free.
The second after that, the sun set.
It was dark. So dark that Harry couldn't even see his hand in front of his face. An impossible, hungry sort of darkness.
He had no chance of seeing the Monster, which was frankly unnerving considering he was hardly the safe sort to be around. At least he figured the creature wouldn't immediately kill him, especially after Harry had just come to its aid.
There was no sign of the Nameless yet.
"Let's get –" he began. A hand clamped tightly on his mouth.
"Shut up," the Monster hissed in his ear. "He'll hear you. Hold very still. And for the love of god, don't let him see you. Don't make eye contact."
Harry's eyes widened, nausea bubbling in his throat. His vision strained in the darkness. He could feel the roses and vines squirming around his legs, as if they were searching the darkness too.
And … oh god.
In the blackness, standing before the painting, those eyes were the only thing he could see. Flaming, bloody red orbs that roved across the room.
No.
Not roving.
Those eyes were unseeing.
The Monster's grip pressed harder against his mouth.
Harry was convinced that Nameless would be able to hear his heart. That anybody could. He could barely breathe, and hardly dared to, the sound of it muffled beneath the Monster's hold.
He tried to think on what they should do. There had to be something they could do. That he could do.
Maybe the Nameless wouldn't attack him; it had seemed amused by him.
But he had a sinking feeling it would definitely go for the Monster – the two hated each other.
He wanted to shut his eyes, but didn't dare take them off the Nameless for a second.
He saw the Riddle come to a stop before the other side of the painting. That side was in darkness too, but it was the normal darkness that Harry had grown used to.
The thorns and roses continued to slide over his body, like snakes waiting for one small twitch to lunge. They tore at his trousers and snagged his t-shirt, leaving thin wounds dragging sharp along his thighs, across his neck.
Were they supposed to just sit here all night?
"I can smell your blood, offering." It was Voldemort's voice, high and cold. Such a conversational tone. Harry felt the Monster stiffen against his back. "It is … pleasing, to finally meet you in person."
The Monster's nails dug in, as if to warn him not to even try speaking. Harry half felt he should anyway … but at the same time, he was convinced that the Nameless would track him by the sound.
"He's mine," Riddle said from the other side. "Don't touch the boy. The Prophecy promised him to me."
"And you are a fool for believing a child's promises. Idiots, the lot of you, hung up on childhood and childish things. Hearts, love, it's all so … quaint. So very human of them, isn't it, offering?"
The Nameless' eyes swept over the room again. Harry felt clammy.
"But then," it continued, "I do not view kindly those who trespass on my domain. Nor those who choose to help my enemies."
Bloody Monster. Harry blamed him.
He was trying rather hard not to shiver too, with half his clothes in tatters around him from the thorns that finally seemed to have judged him uninteresting and moved on in search of other areas of the room. Not that Harry could tell where anything was right now.
"The Prophecy will not be happy with you if you kill our offering," Riddle said.
In the darkness, it was impossible to tell if the Nameless' expression changed, especially when he was facing away from whatever thin, muted light shone through the painting.
"The Prophecy cannot do much about that if he remains in chains," the Nameless said, uncaring. "I would not give up my immortality for him, nor for the boy."
Red eyes scoured the room again. "You're being dreadfully quiet, offering. Has the Monster smothered you? You normally never shut up, so I'm sure you can understand my concern. Are you scared?"
The red eyes were closer now, and there was the sound of measured footsteps circling the room. Harry wondered if they could make a break for the painting – though that would just lead them to Riddle.
Harry didn't want to even try thinking of the specifics of where each piece went when its counterpart was in control. The curse must be weakened at least a little bit to allow for this fluidity.
His fists clenched white-knuckled at his sides. Suddenly, he felt the brush of the Monster's lips against his neck in the darkness, and nearly choked.
"Monster, too … darkness is your domain. Why are you hiding? Does it frighten you to return to this level, after you scraped so hard for your physical form? How many souls did you steal from people for that?"
Obviously, if the Monster fed, it could gain greater power. Except … well, their deal determined that the Monster couldn't feed on anything Harry didn't have, that wasn't new. Which, in this situation, wasn't that much help.
Harry would rather not be sucked dry for the purposes of the Monster's escape, though.
The Nameless laughed, high and cold, at their continued silence.
Harry considered his options, thoughts racing.
It would have been a lot easier to form a counterattack if he could see.
He slowly, so slowly, let his fingers stretch, groping along the floor, over the furniture, searching for something that he could throw. Hoping to god that he didn't make something clatter and hit the floor.
From when he'd been in here with Riddle, and from his own room, he could guess that this was an exact mirror image of the house. So surely, some of the same things would be there? The same layout?
"Oh, come now, do you not have any of your endless questions for me? You don't normally hold back, offering. Don't you want to know why it's dark? Don't you want to know what is happening in this house, if the Riddle is murdering our dear father…?"
Perhaps something on the writing desk? Harry had seen a small letter-opener there once.
Every muscle in his body was tensed.
The second after that, the Monster had pressed it into his hands.
His first thought was the annoyance-relief that the Monster was still poking about in his head. The second was the realization that the Monster could see.
It was a creature of darkness! Of course these shadows didn't impair its vision!
He turned his head slightly to try and assess exactly how the Monster knew what he was thinking, and imagined throwing the letter opener hard towards the door.
Nothing.
Right. Riddle did thoughts – the Monster did memories, emotions.
From what he'd gathered, unless it was straight-up knowledge like Harry's name, the creature devoured through its mouth. Or maybe that was a personal preference and he was simply looking for an excuse to kiss 'his offering'. Harry didn't know.
But with his eyes locked on the Nameless, he dragged his mouth along the Monster's neck. Cheek. Jaw? Harry honestly didn't know. He felt lightheaded, determined despite his fear, just like before.
Obviously, the Monster couldn't feed on things he'd done before now, so it should be safe enough. Theoretically.
He'd thrown things plenty of times in his life. All he needed was to get his idea across, and hopefully, the other's cleverness would work in his favour for once.
The Monster's fingers slid ever so slowly around his wrist.
The Nameless was getting closer now, with a delicate sniff as he tracked the room.
"Don't you want to know my name?"
They threw hard.
The Nameless' red eyes disappeared as his head turned towards the clatter. It made it impossible to see him at all.
Harry held his breath.
The sound of footsteps started again, further away this time.
He shifted towards the light of the painting, only for the Monster's grip to tighten on him. Lips pressed against his ear, voice barely audible.
"We can't get out that way. You haven't unlocked him. The door isn't open."
What the hell were they supposed to do then?!
The Monster pulled him in another direction, towards where they'd thrown the letter opener. Towards You-Know-Who.
"Why are we –" Harry began, voice not even a mutter, before realization struck.
If this house was a distorted replica of the one outside the painting … then there was more than one.
He hadn't unlocked the Nameless, but he had unlocked the Past.
It was slow going.
Harry was, frankly, uneasy about relying on the Monster in any capacity – and the only reason he believed the creature wasn't leading him into a trap was because the Monster was actually more desperate to get out of there than he was.
And, as Harry had made sure to point out, the Past liked the Monster about as much as everyone else in this house did. Which, on the whole, was not very much at all.
Harry, on the other hand, could (hopefully) get them passage.
He had no idea if the Nameless was close or not. He could only see him at all when he caught the swing of that scarlet scrutiny.
Still, the questions were bubbling rather frantically now, even with the Monster's arms wrapped around him, guiding him in his complete blindness.
"What has he done that is so bad that even you, the Monster, are scared of him?" he whispered.
"I'm not scared of him." The Monster jabbed his side, and Harry nearly snarled.
A minute stretched in taut silence, then two.
"I … am a Monster. The Monster. I am the manifestation of murder and revenge. I, who killed my own family – and many others – long before I ever became this." The Monster's voice was, for once, serious. Without that crooning lilt. Even if that snake-tongue did flicker unnervingly against Harry's cheek.
"He – he is the one whose name people fear to speak at all," the Monster said. "He is the one who split his soul for never-ending life. That's why the Beast is missing his heart."
Harry smiled mirthlessly.
"And the eyes are the windows to the soul, which is why his eyes are …" Not functioning. Unable to see. Stained red by violence.
"Precisely. You might actually be getting the hang of this."
Another thought was beginning to grow in Harry's mind. The Beast didn't guard the left side of his house for no reason. There was a reason people died trying to get there.
"The Past's portrait is there at night. Except the Past is already the Prophecy's counterpart. Past and Future. But you all switch, day and night. 'Beware the war when shadow meets light' …" Harry's mouth felt dry. "So if the Past is not there during the day …"
"Harry."
"It's Eurydice, isn't it? Not one of you … but nonetheless."
The silence told him all he needed to know, and Harry gave a grim smile.
Of course, this whole situation still confused him literally half to death, but he liked to think it was getting clearer. More slowly than he would have liked, though.
It was still an overwhelming relief when the Past's portrait finally came into view, a light against the overwhelming darkness. Even the Monster seemed relieved, as much as it ever was, grip loosening upon him fractionally.
Harry stopped being relieved when he saw just how frightened the little boy looked.
"It's alright," he hastened to say. "The Monster won't hurt you. I won't let him. Besides, if you would just let us throu–"
Red eyes snapped open in the shadows.
This time, they were looking right at him, and the man stepped into the light cast by Past's portrait. The small boy shifted miserably.
"I'm sorry, Harry," he whispered.
"First you enter my domain without permission, and now you try and leave without even saying hello? You should show some respect, offering," Nameless murmured.
He didn't even have time to rasp out a 'hello' before the other lunged.
He felt the Monster's tendrils cover him with a possessive protectiveness, yanking him back, only for lips to crush hard against his own.
The second after that, all he knew was pain.
