It drew some attention when, during the next day’s music, a senior butler disappeared. As he was cleaning the wine cellar, the floorboards rattling around him, a fine vintage bottle simply shattered in his face. Startled, he stepped back, and fell through an opening that appeared just for him. The staff decided that it was not worth pondering. “Perhaps he finally cracked,” was the uniform decision.

The third victim caused some worry. The head chef had lived in the House long before the young master was born. He could not have just up and abandoned the place he knew as home. The staff knew that, but they would not have believed it then that the flame in the oven leapt for him while the music was playing. Well, it leapt for him, caught him, and dragged him into the depths of the oven.

As the staffs’ fear grew, the House’s confidence seemed to rise. The doors and windows of the House that led to freedom locked. It began to pick off two or more inhabitants each time it played. It was more open now. It picked them off by dragging them through the house by the fringes of carpet. It would roll up with them inside of it and once it unrolled, they were simply gone. The floor would swallow members in the staff commons where everyone could see. The maestro was able to fend off some of the House’s attacks with his powerful melodies as they battled, but he lost many more.