Strings of Control
The air in the house was thick with tension, an almost palpable weight pressing down as Harry waited by the window. The moonlight barely illuminated the treeline, but Harry’s sharp eyes didn’t waver from it. Tom stood beside him, the diary clutched in Harry’s hand.
“You’re calm for someone about to experiment with magic few your age ever attempt,” Tom said, his tone edged with both curiosity and suspicion.
“I’ve had worse things to deal with,” Harry replied simply, his voice flat.
Before Tom could respond, a low growl rumbled outside. The shadows in the forest shifted, and then Teeth emerged, dragging two struggling figures behind it. The muggles’ muffled cries filled the air, their wide eyes darting between Teeth and the boy waiting inside.
Teeth released them at the doorstep, towering silently over the cowering humans. Its elongated form loomed ominously, its jagged grin as unsettling as ever.
“Good work,” Harry said calmly, looking up at Teeth. The creature tilted its head, almost as if acknowledging the praise, before slinking back into the shadows of the house, fading into the darkness like smoke.
The muggles, a man and a woman, whimpered, their voices trembling as they tried to plead for their lives. Harry stepped closer, his expression unreadable, while Tom watched from the diary, his curiosity piqued.
“Quiet,” Harry said, his voice cold but steady. The command seemed to paralyze the pair, their pleas dying in their throats.
Tom’s voice cut through the silence. “Do you even know how to cast the Imperius Curse?”
“No,” Harry admitted. “But I’ll learn.”
Tom laughed softly, the sound low and amused. “Of course you will. Let me guide you. You’ll need precision and focus—it’s not just about power.”
Harry knelt in front of the man, his wand steady as he pointed it directly at the muggle’s forehead. “Imperio,” he murmured, his voice calm but laced with intent.
The man’s frantic eyes glazed over instantly, his body relaxing as if a switch had been flipped. Harry tilted his head, studying the effect, then glanced at Tom.
“It worked,” he said simply.
“Good,” Tom replied, his tone carrying a note of approval. “Now test it. Command him.”
Harry leaned in closer, his voice soft but firm. “Stand up.”
The man obeyed without hesitation, his movements fluid and robotic. The woman gasped, her horror evident, but Harry didn’t spare her a glance.
“Write your story,” Harry ordered, pushing a blank notebook and pen toward the man. “Everything about your life. Every detail.”
The man moved to the table and began writing, his hand steady despite the surreal situation.
Tom chuckled darkly. “Efficient. You’re learning quickly, Harry.”
Harry ignored the praise, turning his attention to the woman. He cast the Imperius Curse again, and soon, she was seated beside the man, writing her own account of her life.
For hours, the sound of pens scratching against paper filled the house. Harry sat back, watching them with an unreadable expression. Tom, still tethered to the diary, observed with growing intrigue.
When the muggles had finished, Harry walked over and inspected their work. Satisfied, he turned to Tom. “You’re up.”
Tom’s voice hummed with satisfaction. “Very well.”
Harry placed the diary on the table and watched as Tom’s figure began to fade, retreating back into the pages. “I’ll return when the ritual is complete,” Tom said, his voice echoing faintly as he disappeared.
When the diary was once again just an ordinary book, Harry turned his attention back to the muggles. Their blank, compliant expressions didn’t bother him.
“Now sleep,” he said softly. Both muggles slumped where they sat, their breathing steady.
Harry leaned back in his chair, letting out a quiet breath. The next step was close, and he was ready.