The House of Control

A Lesson in Perfection

The library was quiet, with sunlight filtering through the tall windows and casting warm patches on the shelves lined with ancient books. Harry sat comfortably in an armchair, an open book in his lap, though his attention was focused on the tea he'd requested—more specifically, on Hermione's performance in preparing it.

Moments later, the door opened, and Mistress Isabell entered, Hermione trailing behind her, her gaze lowered. They both bowed deeply, their postures precise, reflecting the discipline The House demanded.

"Your tea, Apprentice Master," Hermione murmured, stepping forward to present the cup, her movements measured and controlled as she'd been trained.

Harry took the tea, his gaze meeting hers for a brief moment before he raised the cup to his lips. He took a sip, then immediately spit the tea back into the cup, his face twisting in disgust. With a sharp motion, he set the glass back on the table with a resounding clang.

"This is the second time you've brought me bitter, undrinkable tea, Hermione," he said, his voice calm but laced with irritation. "How many times must I remind you of what I expect?"

Hermione's eyes widened in disbelief, her mouth parting slightly as though she wanted to speak, but she held her tongue, masking her frustration quickly. But Harry saw the spark in her eyes, that flicker of disbelief and defiance she hadn't yet managed to hide.

Mistress Isabell immediately stepped forward, bowing deeply as she took control of the situation. "Apprentice Master Harry, I apologize deeply for this... travesty," she said, her voice steady but with a touch of urgency. "This failure is unacceptable, and I will ensure it does not happen again."

Harry kept his gaze fixed on Hermione, studying her reaction, watching the stubbornness she struggled to hide. He waited, letting the silence hang, his stare unrelenting as Hermione shifted uncomfortably.

Isabell, noticing Hermione's hesitation, acted swiftly. She grabbed Hermione's arm, pulling her sharply to the floor. Hermione gasped softly as she fell to her knees, her face flushing as she was forced into a position of complete submission. Isabell held her head down, pressing her forehead to the floor, her voice firm and commanding.

"Show respect, Hermione," Isabell said coldly, her grip unyielding. "Do not look at the masters with such insolence."

Harry scoffed, his tone laced with a quiet disdain. "It seems she still has a long way to go before she truly understands her place." He paused, his gaze hard. "Mistress Isabell, she clearly needs more training in the preparation of tea, as well as in her attitude. Fix it."

Isabell bowed her head again, her voice steady. "Yes, Apprentice Master. I will see to it personally."

Harry's gaze lingered on Hermione for a moment longer, watching as she remained frozen in her position on the floor, her shoulders tense, though her face was now blank. A slight frown crossed his face, and he turned back to Isabell.

"One more thing, Mistress Isabell," he added, his voice almost dismissive. "Ask Mia to prepare some proper tea for me—and those biscuits she's known for. Clearly, Hermione is not yet capable of meeting the standards I expect."

Isabell's expression didn't falter, though Hermione stiffened slightly at his words. "Of course, Apprentice Master. I will ensure Mia attends to it at once."

Harry nodded, finally turning his attention away from them. "Good. I expect no more mistakes."

With a final bow, Isabell pulled Hermione to her feet and led her out of the library. Hermione kept her gaze down, her face carefully blank, though a storm of emotions swirled within her.