The House of Control

The Violin's Echo

The soft notes of a violin drifted through the hallway, drawing Mistress Isabell and Hermione to a stop outside the music room. Isabell was leading Hermione to begin their day's cleaning, but both of them froze, captivated by the hauntingly beautiful melody flowing from within. Hermione's eyes widened slightly in surprise; she hadn't known Harry played the violin, much less that he could produce such a moving sound.

Inside, Harry stood by the large windows, his posture relaxed but precise as he drew the bow over the strings, each note resonating with a clarity that filled the room. The music seemed to echo through the empty space, winding around the instruments, the books, the polished wood of the piano. Hermione, standing just inside the door, felt a strange pang of nostalgia as she watched. She almost wanted to make a sound, to tell him that his music was... unexpected, stirring in a way she hadn't anticipated. But she kept silent, holding her gaze steady.

When Harry finished, he lowered the violin and turned to find Isabell and Hermione standing just inside the doorway. They both immediately dropped into bows.

Mistress Isabell spoke first, her voice respectful. "Apprentice Master, I apologize if we interrupted. We came to clean the music room. If you're still using it, we can return later."

Harry gave a slight nod but waved a hand dismissively. "You may clean. I'll remain here."

As they set to work, a butler entered the room, bowing deeply before speaking. "Apprentice Master, would you care for any tea while you're here?"

Harry looked at him, his gaze appraising. "And you are...?"

The butler lowered his head respectfully. "Connor, Apprentice Master."

Harry nodded, accepting the introduction. "Yes, Connor, I would like some tea."

Connor bowed again and exited quietly. Hermione and Isabell moved carefully around the room, dusting and polishing without disrupting anything. Soon, Connor returned with a polished silver tray bearing tea and a small plate of freshly baked biscuits.

"These are from Mia, Apprentice Master," Connor explained, placing the tray on a small table beside Harry.

Harry took a biscuit and bit into it, his face softening slightly as he savored the buttery, perfectly baked treat. "Thank you, Connor," he said with a nod, dismissing him.

Hermione continued her work, her movements quick but precise. She focused on keeping her frustration hidden, not daring to let any trace of emotion slip. As she wiped down the shelves, her eyes briefly flicked toward Harry. She could still hear the violin's melody echoing in her mind, a stark reminder of just how different he had become since they'd arrived. She hadn't known he could play like that—so controlled, so effortlessly refined. It was as if he had transformed completely, becoming someone she no longer recognized.

Just as Hermione was about to finish her side of the room, Harry's voice cut through the silence. "Hermione."

She looked up, her heart skipping a beat as he gestured to a spot near the piano.

"There's dust on the other side of the piano," Harry said, his voice calm but firm. "I expect this room to be spotless."

Hermione clenched her jaw but forced herself to nod. "Yes, Apprentice Master."

She hurried over, crawling under the piano to reach the far corner. Inside her mind, frustration simmered, but she kept her movements controlled, wiping the floor until she saw no trace of dust. Once she thought it was clean, she started to slide out from under the piano.

But Harry was watching closely. He stood up, crossing the room with a quiet, unhurried pace. "It's still dirty, Hermione," he said, his voice carrying an edge of irritation. "I want to see my reflection in this floor. You will clean it until it shines—even if that means staying here all night."

Hermione froze for a moment, her fingers tightening around the cloth, but she quickly regained her composure, bowing her head in submission. "Yes, Apprentice Master," she replied, her tone as controlled as she could manage.

Satisfied, Harry returned to his seat, picking up his tea and sipping it slowly. The biscuits from Mia were delicious, and he allowed himself to enjoy them fully, every bit of her skill evident in the flavor and texture. The contrast between Mia's meticulous care and Hermione's oversight did not escape him, and he made a mental note to reinforce this lesson with her as many times as necessary.

From under the piano, Hermione could see Harry's polished shoes resting casually against the table leg as he continued with his tea. She clenched her teeth, focusing her attention back on the floor, scrubbing until her hands were sore. Though her mind churned with resentment, she forced herself to obey, knowing that any show of defiance would only lead to harsher discipline.

As Harry finished his tea, he set the empty cup and plate back onto the tray, the faint clink of porcelain echoing in the silence of the room.

"Connor," he called.

The butler appeared instantly, bowing before clearing the tray and tea set away with smooth, silent efficiency.

"Thank you, Connor," Harry said, giving him an approving nod. Connor bowed again, a small smile crossing his face as he exited, clearly pleased to have met Harry's standards.

Hermione continued cleaning, her back aching from the strain, but she kept her head down and her movements steady. She could feel Harry's gaze on her as she worked, his eyes appraising every movement, every effort. She forced herself to keep going, knowing she couldn't afford a single misstep.

As the day wore on, she scrubbed until the floor gleamed, until there was no trace of dust anywhere in sight. By the time she was finally allowed to leave, her hands were raw, her mind exhausted—but she kept her head high, refusing to let Harry see any hint of defeat.

And as she left the music room, the faint echo of his violin lingered in her mind, a reminder of how far he'd come—and how far she had yet to fall if she was to survive in The House.