The House of Control

A Heightened Preparation

Ron's POV

Ron gritted his teeth as he pushed the heavy wheelbarrow up the slope of the training yard, its iron sides creaking under the weight of stones. The relentless drills had been difficult enough, but over the past few days, they had somehow grown even more grueling. The slightest misstep or pause earned him a reprimand, the guards circling with their eyes sharp for any sign of faltering.

"Get a move on, Weasley!" Master Jacob's voice barked out, sharper than usual. "Sloppy work reflects poorly on everyone here. Your performance must be flawless if you're to be of any use to The House."

Ron tightened his grip on the handles, trying to focus on each step, his legs burning with exhaustion. But the pressure was wearing on him, and with every demanding task, his frustration grew.

As he reached the top of the slope and dropped the stones onto a pile, one of the other servants beside him, a quiet boy named Emmett, glanced over, sweat dripping down his brow.

"Any idea why they've been riding us harder lately?" Ron muttered, keeping his voice low.

Emmett shook his head. "They haven't told us much, but there's a rumor that important guests are coming. Nobility, maybe. I heard one of the cooks say something about a princess."

Ron's eyes widened slightly, his curiosity piqued. "Princess?" He tried to keep his tone steady, though he could feel his mind racing. Important guests meant something big, maybe even a chance to see what all this rigid training was really for.

Emmett gave a weary nod. "Or something close to it. They've been on edge all week." He glanced around, his voice dropping even lower. "You think they're expecting trouble?"

Ron snorted, wiping the sweat from his brow. "Doubt it. The only trouble around here is them."

Master Jacob's voice cracked through the air, sharp as ever. "Weasley! Less talking, more working!"

Ron bit his tongue, frustration simmering beneath the surface, and forced himself to pick up the next wheelbarrow. He could feel the eyes of the guards watching his every move, and he knew that any more backtalk would land him with another punishment. But as he resumed his work, his mind wandered to the princess. Who were they? And why did they matter so much?

Hermione's POV

Hermione's fingers tingled as she polished the silverware for what felt like the hundredth time, each spoon and fork gleaming in the dim light of the servants' hall. The morning had been a blur of cleaning, arranging, and perfecting, each task carried out with even greater precision than usual. The quiet but persistent tension in the air made her nerves hum with anticipation.

Mistress Isabell was supervising, her expression sharp as she examined every detail. "I want every corner of this House immaculate," she said, her voice low but unyielding. "We are expecting two high-profile guests, and I will not tolerate any errors. Is that understood?"

Hermione nodded along with the others, her curiosity flaring. She wanted to ask who these guests were, but her questions in the past had often led to a punishment rather than an answer.

Mistress Isabell noticed her glance and paused, her eyes narrowing. "Granger," she said, her tone holding a warning. "I can see the questions in your eyes. You may find that asking them now would be... unwise."

Hermione quickly lowered her gaze, but she couldn't resist one quiet question. "Are they nobility, Mistress?"

Mistress Isabell studied her for a moment, then, surprisingly, gave a curt nod. "Yes. They are not just guests but figures of importance. The House is expected to reflect that in every way." Her gaze swept over the servants, the weight of her expectations clear. "Every detail must be perfect. I want each of you to be a flawless reflection of The House's standards."