The House of Control

A Costly Mistake

Harry sat across from Father in the dimly lit study, papers and charts spread before them as they discussed the intricate dealings of the outside world. Father's expression was calm and calculated as they spoke, his mind focused on the strategies necessary to keep The House's influence steady across the surrounding towns and markets. Harry listened intently, absorbing every detail, every nuance of Father's words. This was more than a lesson—it was insight into the depth of control that The House held.

As they spoke, the door opened softly, and Mistress Isabell entered, leading Mia, Hermione, and Connor. The three of them moved in near-perfect silence, setting about their tasks with practiced precision. Mia poured tea and set out a tray of her signature biscuits, her movements fluid and graceful. Hermione followed, dusting the shelves, while Connor adjusted the delicate table settings. Harry noted the servants' calm demeanor, taking silent satisfaction in the way they operated with seamless coordination.

They worked quietly as the discussion continued until the door opened once more, and Master Zeke and Master Callum entered, their faces grim. Father looked up, his expression instantly sharpening.

"There's news from the Eastern Market town," Zeke said, his voice low.

Callum added, "Supplies have been disrupted again. There's word of unrest spreading among the merchants."

Father frowned, his fingers tapping the edge of the table as he considered the implications. "Unrest is a risk we cannot afford. We need to tighten control, remind them of the cost of insubordination."

As they continued their discussion, the servants remained focused on their work. Mia refilled Father's tea, her movements graceful and quiet. Connor laid out additional documents, carefully arranged by priority.

But as Hermione dusted near the table where a delicate vase sat—a vase filled with the vibrant blooms Mother loved so dearly—her hand brushed against it, knocking it slightly. In her attempt to catch it, her hand slipped, and the vase tipped over, shattering on the floor. The vivid, delicate flowers lay scattered amidst the shards.

For a moment, there was only silence, thick and suffocating. Every eye in the room turned to the broken vase, and then to Hermione, who stood frozen, her face pale.

Father's face darkened, his usual calm replaced by an unmistakable fury. The room seemed to grow colder, his gaze fixed on Hermione with an intensity that made the air feel charged with tension.

"This filthy, no-good—" Father began, his voice a low growl, his eyes blazing with rage. His composure shattered as he pointed a shaking finger at Hermione, the calm he was known for giving way to fury. "How dare you ruin something so precious?"

Before Father could finish, Master Callum stepped forward, his voice calm and placating. "Father, she's only a servant—her punishment can be managed appropriately."

Father's gaze flicked to Callum, the anger still simmering in his eyes, but his expression softened slightly. Harry seized the opportunity, stepping forward.

"Isabell," he commanded, his voice firm but even. "Take this servant to The Shell. She's clearly in need of further training."

Isabell's eyes darted to Harry, her expression tense but controlled. With a swift nod, she stepped forward, grabbing Hermione by the arm with an iron grip and pulling her from the room. Hermione didn't resist, though Harry could see the tension in her face, the way she kept her head down, her gaze fixed on the floor. Isabell led her out, the sound of the door closing punctuating her removal from the room.

As the door shut, Connor and Mia immediately fell to their knees, bowing deeply to Father, their voices soft as they offered apologies for Hermione's mistake.

"Please forgive the disgrace, Father," Mia murmured, her head lowered.

"We apologize deeply for her misstep," Connor added, his voice quiet but steady.

Father's gaze lingered on the two servants, his expression still severe but softening slightly as he saw their submission. He looked over at Harry, a subtle nod acknowledging his handling of the situation.

Harry turned to Mia and Connor, his voice low but firm. "Return to your rooms and wait. I will summon you when we are finished here. You'll clean this room properly once the discussion is complete."

"Yes, Apprentice Master," they both replied, keeping their heads bowed as they rose and backed out of the room, leaving Father and the others in silence.

When they were gone, Father sighed, his face returning to its usual calm but now tinged with a trace of irritation. He looked at Harry, his expression contemplative.

"You handled that well," he said, his voice carrying a hint of approval. "A master's control lies not only in managing resources but also in maintaining order. Distractions—especially clumsy ones—must be swiftly dealt with. Remember that."

Harry nodded, the weight of his responsibility settling over him like a mantle. "Of course, Father. I'll see to it personally that Hermione receives the training she clearly still needs."

Father's gaze softened, the anger replaced by a look of respect. "Good. Keep her in line, Harry. Weakness has no place in The House."

With a final nod, the conversation resumed, the broken vase forgotten as the matter of the Eastern Market's unrest took precedence once again. But in Harry's mind, the image of Hermione's bowed head lingered—a reminder of the fine balance between strength and submission that defined The House.