Beast. Riddle. Nameless. Monster. Past. Prophecy.

One would assume that six pieces would make up the whole, and yet something seems to be missing still. It seems, from my investigations, that six parts make up the puzzle to be solved, instead of joining together to make the solution. I have determined that an offering must confront each piece in full to adequately break the curse. Or to have even a chance at surviving the house.

It is to the advantage of the offerings that the curse itself wants to be broken. However, to the detriment of winning this awful 'game', not all pieces want to be slotted together. Do not trust them, and be very careful of the names that you give to them.

Whilst the moves of the game are unlimited within the house, there is a price for each one taken and so you should be wary about where you step. I don't know if this is much help to you, though I hope it is, but in my time here I have jotted down those moves that I could identify, however vaguely. Along with anything else I think will help. I know I cannot defeat this myself, but I can only hope that this information will help somebody else end the shadow haunting our town, before more people are hurt.

The Beast will block the left side of the house, and his quarters. Do not attempt to approach them by day. It is a death sentence. He will kill you. The Beast seems to act as an enforcer of the rules, whereas the Monster will act as a chaotic agent to the game. A wild card.

However, as you will unfortunately be able to guess, that means –

Harry was halfway through breakfast when a hand caught his chin from behind.

He immediately froze, having not even heard footsteps coming up behind him. He could guess who it was easily enough though, even if spidery fingers hadn't appeared on his hip yet.

He exhaled a careful breath. Swallowed.

"Are you intending to kill me now?" His voice remained steady. His eyes flicked to the side, to try and get a better look, but the Beast was out of his line of sight.

"You survived the night, then."

"Beast by day, Monster by night. Interesting life you lead," Harry muttered, eyes dark and jaw tight. He didn't know Voldemort's part in this curse; whether he caused it, or if he was as cursed as any of the rest of them … but there was a very long trail of bodies coming from this house either way. "I take it I'm still not allowed to look at you?"

"We'll see." Lips grazed down, pressing against his neck, tipping his head back slightly. Harry did his best to sustain his calm. Though, considering some of the victims had their throats ripped out, that was rather difficult and his pulse automatically picked up.

He clenched his fingers around his cutlery as he tried to order his thoughts. He resisted the urge to pull away, though really, the Beast's grip was steely and he wasn't sure he'd be able to even if he tried.

"Are you intending to kill me now?" he asked again. He discreetly flicked the battered notebook in front of him shut. He'd got it out of the library on his way to breakfast, because honestly he didn't much want to waste time.

The longer he went without information, the less likely he was to survive.

The notebook seemed to have been left by one of the other offerings – a girl called Hermione Granger.

"Not today," was the Beast's response. "I liked her. She was one of the better ones. She would have tasted delicious too. Rich with ideas. She had a strong heart."

Harry's eyes darted over the notebook that obviously hadn't slipped past the Beast's notice, and he nearly shuddered.

"What happened to her?"

"The Monster got her," the Beast said casually. An icy arm locked around his waist. He didn't think it was meant to be affectionate – more something to stop him from turning suddenly.

Harry's insides curdled.

"Who are the Past and the Prophecy?" he tried. "The other … well, the others? What prophecy? Is it to do with the curse? Where are they?"

"That is not your concern." There was a hint of warning in Voldemort's tone. Harry's jaw clenched. If anything was his concern, he had a feeling that this was.

"Why won't you let me see you?" he asked.

"Because then you'd never leave your room again, which would be rather dull."

Harry bristled slightly.

"You look like Nameless, don't you? Riddle and Monster look alike, so it stands to reason."

He regretted the deduction when it escaped his lips … but honestly, twenty-four hours and his politeness was thrown out of the window with frustration.

Mercifully, the Beast seemed more amused than anything.

"Clever boy, Harry," he purred. "But you've seen the Riddle and the Monster, and the differences between them."

"You can't possibly be that bad-looking," Harry said incredulously. "Just show me. I'm going to die, so it's not like the truth is going to get out."

"Everything comes with a price."

Harry sighed and figured he probably should have expected that. Nobody here was helpful – except for Riddle, and that was only to the extent that he absolutely had to be.

"So what's your price list? A – what, my sense of taste? The colour of my eyes?"

"That's the Monster's price list, not mine. Your eyes are lovely though, so I might take them anyway."

It really was terrifying how conversationally the Beast made such a claim. Bile clawed up his throat.

"You and the Monster have a different price list?" Of course they did. Nothing here could be simple and easy, apparently! "Why?"

"We seek different things. You can see that in the fates of the offerings." Voldemort sounded bored now, but Harry had frozen all over again. He hadn't actually thought about that.

He'd realized that there were different … things in the house, but…

Maybe his brain had gone numb with the cold grip on his chin.

"So which one of you rips people to pieces and mutilates them?" He wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer. He had a feeling he could guess, anyway.

"I do."

That wasn't what he was expecting. Harry nearly threw up on the spot. He should not have had breakfast.

"Why?"

"Prices, prices …" the Beast tsked.

Fantastic.

Each seek that which they do not have, in different ways. The Monster will take your soul, slowly. It will ask for everything about you. I do not remember how to laugh anymore, but I can hear the sound of it coming out of his mouth when he took it for his own. They take the parts of an offering that they love, and keep them. It's why I started writing this down. Because, I think, out of all the things that they like about me, they liked my mind the most. It has already started.

I cannot remember what I meant to say earlier, I think I must have traded it, but context would suggest that if one cannot explore the house by day, they must do so at night. You've probably guessed that it's a bad idea to walk the Riddle House by night. If you're not in the room, the Monster will take what he wants indiscriminately, and send the rest walking back home. Your best bet is to trade for safe passage for the night. He will ask for your name, but you must satisfy him with something else. If the price does not match the request, and you step out into the shadows, he will make up the debt – and once he's taken it, you can't get it back.

Go to the left side of the house –

"Anything interesting?" the Beast mocked. Well, Harry was pretty sure the man … creature … was mocking him. He wondered if the Beast was the one trying to impede the curse, or if it was the Monster. Then again, Riddle definitely was, considering how maddeningly vague he always was.

Harry wondered how stupid an idea it would be to ask about the left side of the house.

"What's your price list?" Maybe that would give him some clues on the matter.

"All of the bones in your left hand. Your eyelids. Your heart. Your tongue. Your kneecaps. It depends on what you want, Harry."

"Charming," Harry murmured. "Why haven't you killed me yet? The Monster couldn't, because I didn't leave the room. And what the hell would you even do with my kneecaps?"

"You are the Offering. Nameless told me."

"I told you that," Harry said, confused. Or was this … "Is this about me volunteering? What's so important about that?"

The Beast said nothing. Harry wanted to thunk his head against the table.

The book also said he had to confront each 'piece' if he wanted a chance of winning this 'game'. He was pretty sure it didn't count as confronting Voldemort if he never actually looked him in the face.

He was starting to see why people died doing this. If he gave his organs he was screwed. Thank god he still had his bloody tonsils in. The moves may have been unlimited, but there were only so many he could give until he lost the ability to play. He really didn't want to lose body parts.

"Any chance I can look at you without giving up my eyeballs?"

He had a feeling disbelief was suspending.

"What else do you have?" Voldemort returned, mouth against his ear once more.

Maybe he'd leave the Beast for last…

Beware Eurydice. Beware the Prophecy. Beware the Kisses Cursed. Run. Get out. It's not safe. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am –

Harry had flicked through the pages of the book, flicked to the end of the book even if he knew it could never be happy. The way it just cut remained unnerving, nonetheless.

By all the diagrams, all the notes and the planning, Hermione Granger had obviously been a very intelligent girl.

There was a bad taste in his mouth.

He'd spent the day reading, looking up information, making small talk with the Beast. He never got to actually look at him. The rooms in which he might have been able to were swathed in shadow, and the only thing facing over a table of cards was hellfire eyes in the darkness.

And in the quiet, Harry had noticed it.

It was more obvious now than the first night, when he'd been more consumed by the chill of the Beast's presence and his certainty of death.

Very soft, very quiet. Something dripping.

At first, he'd thought it must be the Beast tapping, or … something. But it wasn't. He had no idea what it was, and in the darkness, he couldn't see either. It gave him an uneasy feeling though.

This whole house gave him an uneasy feeling.

Even then, he preferred Beast to Monster. Even if he had no idea what, precisely, the Beast was keeping him alive for. Hermione had said he 'enforced rules', so maybe Harry simply hadn't broken any rules then.

He was probably going to die tomorrow.

The Riddle's repeated comments for most of the evening, as the bastard painting smirked at him, didn't help either.

"Not the shadow, but the clock. Not the curse, but the lock."

This time, he was prepared when the screaming started.

"You don't have to do that," Harry said, eyes squeezed shut against the terrible sound. "I know you're going to turn up. Most people would just say hello."

"One tends to need to have a name in order to greet, to be polite," the Monster returned. Harry glanced at Nameless, who was watching him with narrowed eyes.

Harry squared his shoulders and focused on the Monster, taking a step forward.

"What is your price for safe passage in moving around for tonight?" he asked, chin jutting up. The Monster laughed, delighted. He wondered, unnerved, whose laugh it was using today. Which offering's.

"Your name," it cooed. "After all, you know mine."

Harry's teeth gritted.

"I'm not giving you a name."

"Then I'm not giving you any promises of safety." It gave him that sharp-mouthed grin again. "But feel free to try your luck anyway. Maybe I'll let you explore. Maybe I won't."

Harry's mouth felt horribly dry. He wanted more than anything to just cower back, to not step out there with that thing. It was even worse when he knew what the Monster could do, to some small extent.

He drew in a breath. He was the offering. He was what they wanted … he was not a sacrifice. He had power here. A game was made with the chance of winning, or it was slaughter. He had to believe that. If he didn't, all was lost.

Even after only a night and a day, he couldn't bear the thought of that.

Ginny might be picked again next year. Or somebody else. Nobody was safe. Not whilst the offerings were demanded.

"So there's nothing you want from your offering then?" he asked. Nameless blinked at that, eyes starting to gleam with something that looked suspiciously like amusement. The Monster's head tilted.

"Who did you volunteer for?"

Harry's brow furrowed, not expecting the question.

"I'm sorry. Is that your price, knowing that?"

"No," the Monster said. "Tell me anyway."

"I'm not giving you her name, either," Harry said warily.

"Did you love her?"

Harry folded his arms, feeling rather exposed under the interrogation.

"Information comes with a price," he hedged. "You don't answer my questions, I'm not answering yours."

Nameless actually burst out laughing this time, and the Monster gave the painting a foul look. Then it gave Harry a discerning one, as if considering him properly for the first time.

"My price for safe passage is the first time you fell in love."

Harry nearly choked. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

Harry stared at the Monster, heart hammering in his chest. The first time he fell in love? He didn't know much about love, or its price. But he figured that was important too – he wasn't an idiot.

They used to tell fairy-stories in the village, perhaps to try and keep people's hopes up about the situation. In those, at least, love was always held with the highest regard.

He wondered which one was more important – his name, or the first time he fell in love. If he'd ever even fallen in love – sometimes it could be hard to tell the difference between true love and some pale, desperate imitation of it, considering the world.

Maybe he had yet to fall in love, and the Monster would take the possibility of it away. Then again, if he died here, he would never fall in love anyway.

"My first kiss," he bartered. Its head tilted the other way, watching him.

"Bold, aren't you, Offering?" it murmured. Harry gave a grim smile in response to that, and waited.

"Your first kiss," the Monster repeated. "For safe passage there. Let's not pretend we don't know where you intend to go. The taste of rain in your mouth, for safe passage back."

Harry blinked. Tried to consider all the angles to that, painfully aware that he was wasting time every second he stood arguing. Was the taste of rain in his mouth really that important?

He looked to the painting for guidance.

"If you're stupid enough to deal with it, I'm not helping you," the Nameless said. Harry huffed and looked back at the Monster.

"Fine," he agreed. "Deal."

It smiled again, crooking its finger at him to beckon, leaning against the door.

Why was Harry getting the feeling he was going to regret this?

He marched out of the door.

There were wild flowers, and bleak sunshine. It was springtime, as much as they ever got such a thing in the village.

He was gathering berries with Ginny in the fields, a teasing anticipation in his stomach. She'd been giving him her best smiles all week.

They'd stopped by the stream nearing the outlying borders, staring out into the wilderness beyond that marked the end of the village land. The end of the curse, too.

Of course, they couldn't go there. Crossing the river was suicide, people had seen it happen.

"I wonder what it's like," she murmured, eyes distant. "You know … elsewhere." He'd squeezed her hand, and thought her hair looked like fire in the fading light.

One thing led to another, and their lips had brushed, gently. The first time in many.

Harry gasped in surprise as he was immediately hauled away from the door. He was crowded up against the wall, lips pressed against his own as the memory flashed through his mind.

Then it was gone, and he was panting gently, the Monster's eerie face inches from his own. He cleared his throat.

He knew what he'd traded, vaguely, but it wasn't in his mind for him to find. The memory had vanished, sucked up into the Monster's mouth.

"How sweet," it said, nose wrinkling slightly. "Though, they normally are… Soft, full of promises and hope. It's like marzipan. I never really took you for a marzipan, offering."

"… are you going to get off me now? You promised me safe passage."

"I'm not hurting you," it countered. Harry glared.

"Passage requires movement. I don't have all ni–"

Lips crushed against his own once more, hard. Hands dug against his sides, as the Monster's mouth seared heat against his own.

He'd expected him to be cold, like the Beast. He hadn't expected him to feel like he was burning with fever, considering how he looked. He could feel those sharp teeth, and gave a small sound of protest as the taste of copper flooded his tongue.

The Monster simply kissed harder in response, one hand tangling in his hair, tilting his head back. A small moan escaped him, and that was swallowed up too.

He had no idea what was holding him in place, but he could feel himself wrapped up in something – lighter than silk and yet unyielding.

Then it disappeared, and the Monster stepped back.

Harry sucked automatically on his lower lip, and the cut on it.

"What the hell was that! That wasn't part of the deal – I'm bleeding, how is that safe passage?" he accused, eyes narrowed. If he felt at all flustered, he refused to admit it.

"First kiss," the Monster grinned. "I took yours. Then I decided you needed another, better one. Really, it's not fair you should die with such a terrible kiss as hers. After all, you're my offering, aren't you?" Its eyes were rather vicious.

Right, yeah, he figured that was payback for trying to manipulate the deal. Bloody hell.

He was very glad he had safe passage right now.

He forced himself to concentrate, and strode away down the corridor, laughter ringing in his ears.

At least he wasn't dead.