The House of Control

A Place of Secrets

The room felt cold and heavy as Harry, Hermione, and Ron waited in silence. Shadows clung to the corners, making the ritual chamber seem vast and intimidating. Their eyes drifted to a side door that had opened moments before. Two figures emerged—a tall, sharp-featured man in a formal, dark suit, and beside him, a striking woman with a severe expression and piercing gaze.

"Welcome," the man greeted them, his voice crisp and deep. "I am Head Butler Zeke. This is Mistress Eleanor. You will show her the utmost respect, and she will decide if you are worthy of entering The House."

Mistress Eleanor looked each of them over with a critical eye, lingering for a moment on Harry. Her face was impassive, but Harry sensed the flicker of unease in her gaze as she glanced at the amulet clutched in his hand. She raised an eyebrow, her voice smooth but tinged with suspicion.

"Where did you come across this artifact?" she asked, nodding toward the amulet.

"We found it in Professor Dumbledore's office," Harry replied, holding it up. "He told us it would bring us here."

Mistress Eleanor's lips pressed into a thin line. "I see," she replied, her eyes darkening as though Dumbledore's name carried an uncomfortable weight.

But Zeke, with a slight nod, gestured toward a narrow hallway behind them. "Follow us. Mother and Father will want to see you."

They exchanged glances, then followed Mistress Eleanor and Zeke deeper into The House. The halls were lined with ancient tapestries and solemn portraits, faces that seemed to track their every step. It was unsettlingly quiet, the air heavy with expectation.

They finally reached a large, carved door at the end of the hall. Eleanor stopped, turning to face them.

"You will meet with Mother and Father one at a time," she instructed, her gaze steady. "They will decide if you are to stay."

Ron swallowed hard, glancing nervously at Harry and Hermione. "Right. Guess I'll go first, then."

Mistress Eleanor nodded. She opened the door, and with a final glance back at his friends, Ron stepped into the room. The door closed softly behind him, leaving Harry and Hermione standing in tense silence with Zeke and Mistress Eleanor.

Moments later, the door reopened. Ron emerged, his face pale and expression unreadable. Beside him stood a guard, clad in black with a stern, impassive face.

"Follow me," the guard instructed, his voice curt.

Without a word, Ron was led away down another hallway. Harry felt a prickle of unease as he watched his friend disappear. Before he could say anything, Mistress Eleanor turned to Hermione.

"You're next."

Hermione's jaw tightened, but she nodded, pushing her shoulders back and walking with confidence into the room. The door closed, and Harry and Zeke were left waiting in silence.

After what felt like an eternity, Hermione returned, her eyes wide with worry. A second guard appeared, and Hermione was promptly escorted down a hallway in the opposite direction from Ron's. Harry barely had time to offer her an encouraging nod before she, too, vanished from sight.

"Mr. Potter," Mistress Eleanor announced, her tone neutral. "It's your turn."

Harry took a breath and stepped through the door.

The room was dimly lit by a large chandelier that cast a cool, blue light across a long table, at the end of which sat Mother and Father. The two were imposing figures, seated on high-backed, throne-like chairs draped in deep blue cloth. They wore expressions of calm command, their faces unreadable as they studied him.