Entitled

Chapter 138*

The atmosphere in the manor has grown increasingly tense since your return with the Elder Wand. The air is thick with unspoken resentment, and you can feel your father's eyes on you at every moment, his gaze sharp and probing.

No matter what he says, no matter how he tries to mask it, you know he's furious that the wand chose you instead of him. The power it represents is something he craves, something he believes is rightfully his, and it's clear that his frustration is only growing.

Each day, you feel his grip tightening, his control becoming more suffocating. He scrutinizes your every move, watching for any sign of weakness, any hint that you might defy him. It's a constant, exhausting game of survival, where the stakes are nothing less than your life and the lives of those you care about.

One morning, the tension in the air becomes unbearable, and you decide you need an excuse to get out of the manor, if only for a few hours. You approach your father carefully, choosing your words with the precision of a duelist selecting a weapon.

"Father," you begin, your tone light, almost casual, though your heart pounds in your chest. "I was thinking... with my return to Hogwarts approaching, I could use a few new things. Perhaps a shopping trip is in order?"

He doesn't respond immediately, his eyes narrowing as he assesses your request. You can almost see the wheels turning in his mind, calculating what you might be up to, weighing the risks and benefits. His silence stretches on, and the unease in your stomach deepens.

Finally, he speaks, his voice cool and measured. "And what will I get in return for allowing you to go out, Violet?"

The question, though expected, still sends a chill down your spine. You know that nothing comes without a price in his world, and that even a simple request like this could be twisted into something dangerous.

But you're tired of living under his constant scrutiny, tired of feeling like a prisoner in your own home. Gathering your courage, you meet his gaze, forcing yourself to hold steady. "My happiness should be enough," you reply, your voice firm but not defiant, trying to convey the importance of your request without provoking him.

His eyes flash with something dark, something dangerous, and you brace yourself for his reaction. For a moment, the silence is deafening, the tension between you crackling like static in the air.

Then, slowly, a cold smile curves his lips, though it doesn't reach his eyes. "Your happiness, is it?" he murmurs, the words dripping with condescension. "How... quaint."

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to remain calm under his gaze. "I'm more useful to you when I'm content, Father," you say, choosing your words carefully. "You've always taught me that maintaining control means knowing when to grant a favor, when to allow a bit of freedom."

His smile fades, replaced by a calculating expression as he considers your words. "Very well," he says at last, his tone clipped. "You may go. But understand this, Violet—your happiness is a luxury that can be revoked at any time. Do not think for a moment that your brief freedom is a sign of weakness on my part. You are still mine, and you will remain under my watchful eye."

You nod, relief washing over you, though it's tinged with the ever-present fear that his words evoke. "Thank you, Father," you say softly, bowing your head slightly in deference.

Your father's eyes glint with a possessiveness that sends a shiver down your spine. "When you get back," he says, his voice cool and commanding, "you will model the clothes you purchase. I want to ensure everything is appropriate."

You nod, doing your best to maintain your composure. "I assure you, Father, everything will be suitable," you reply, your tone respectful, though inside you feel a flicker of irritation at his need to control even the smallest details of your life.