The House of Control

A Glimpse of Harry

At dinner, Ron found Hermione in the far back corner of the servants' dining hall, tucked away where the watchful eyes of the guards didn't often reach. They hadn't seen each other in weeks, each one lost in their own rigorous training routines. But tonight, Hermione spotted him and hurried to his side, slipping into the seat beside him. Ron glanced around, making sure they weren't being watched, and then leaned in, his voice a low, urgent whisper.

"We need to get out of here," he said, his tone firm, barely containing the desperation that had been building inside him.

Hermione nodded, her expression weary but determined. "I agree. But we have to find Harry first. We can't leave without him."

Ron gritted his teeth. "You don't think I know that? I've been looking for him everywhere, but this place—" He broke off, looking frustrated. "It's like we're kept apart on purpose."

Hermione sighed. "I feel the same way. But I have a feeling we're closer than we think." She glanced over her shoulder, her voice dropping even lower. "We have to keep our heads down and wait for a chance. It'll come—we just have to be patient."

Ron clenched his fists, nodding reluctantly. Patience was the last thing he felt capable of, but he knew Hermione was right. If they were going to find Harry, they had to be careful. Another slip-up could mean a punishment worse than any he'd faced so far.

They exchanged a brief, determined look, then fell into silence, picking at their food and avoiding the watchful eyes of the guards.

The next day, Ron was back outside under Master Jacob's supervision, carrying out the same relentless drills and exercises as always. The morning sun beat down on him as he pushed through the drills, his muscles aching, his mind heavy with thoughts of escape.

But as he passed by the front of the building, something in one of the high windows caught his eye. He slowed down, squinting through the glare of the sun, and then his heart skipped a beat.

Through the glass, he caught a glimpse of someone he could have sworn was Harry. His friend looked different, dressed in fine dark robes, sitting with a calm, collected air that didn't seem like the Harry he knew. But it was him—there was no mistaking the unruly hair, the familiar intensity in his eyes.

Harry was inside The House. And not just as a servant, either—he was seated next to a group of masters, watching something with focused attention.

Ron felt a rush of frustration and confusion. What's he doing in there? he thought, his mind racing. He couldn't make sense of it. All he knew was that he needed to get closer to the truth. But with Master Jacob's watchful gaze on him, he had no choice but to return to the drills, each step feeling heavier than before, the sight of Harry etched into his mind.

Meanwhile, in another part of The House, Hermione was following Mistress Isabell through the grand halls, her steps quiet as she trailed behind with a small group of other maids and butlers. They had been summoned for what Mistress Isabell called "a demonstration"—though what that meant, Hermione wasn't entirely sure.

They were led through several richly decorated rooms until they finally entered a large, imposing chamber filled with ornate, high-backed chairs. Hermione's breath caught when she saw the figures seated before them.

Master Callum, Mistress Eleanor, and Master Alaric were arranged at the front of the room, each seated with a regal bearing that made the space feel colder, more severe. But it was the fourth figure that stole Hermione's attention.

There, seated with the masters, was Harry.

He wore robes like theirs, his posture formal and composed. There was a new edge to his expression, a steadiness that she hadn't seen before, and it both unsettled and amazed her. Harry... what have they done to you? she thought, struggling to keep her face neutral.