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."
Hermione focused on her task, her mind whirring with questions she couldn't afford to ask. As she continued polishing, one of the maids beside her, a girl named Lila, shot her a sidelong glance.
"Have you ever seen anyone so high-profile?" Lila whispered under her breath, her eyes darting nervously to Mistress Isabell's back.
"No," Hermione murmured, her voice barely a whisper. "And if we're not careful, we might not live to see it," she added with a wry smile, feeling a rare hint of camaraderie in the usually silent halls.
Lila stifled a giggle, and Hermione shot her a look to stay quiet. But the brief moment of shared humor made the relentless tasks feel a little lighter.
Later that Day - Ron's POV
Ron was scrubbing the floor of the main hall when a guard passed by, muttering orders to some of the servants nearby. The rumors about the guests had spread through the ranks, but details were scarce. All he knew was that these guests were important enough to send The House into overdrive.
Emmett slid down beside him, picking up a rag to polish the edges of the floorboards. "Word is, they're royalty," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "Some say it's two princesses."
Ron's eyes narrowed. "Princesses? What would princesses be doing here?"
Emmett shrugged, his expression uneasy. "No idea. But The House seems to think it's a big deal." He paused, his voice growing even quieter. "Maybe we'll get a glimpse of them if we're careful."
Ron smirked. "Just as long as I don't have to scrub another floor for it."
The two shared a brief, amused glance before they turned back to their work, each of them sensing the weight of the moment. Important guests meant more scrutiny, more pressure, and more chances for something to go wrong. And while Ron wasn't one to worry, the constant whispers of royalty made him uneasy. He didn't trust anyone here, let alone figures of authority.
Hermione's POV
In the early evening, Hermione was assigned to prepare one of the guest rooms, arranging linens and smoothing the bedspread until it was flawless. Mistress Isabell entered the room as she worked, her gaze keen as she observed Hermione's progress.
"Granger," she said, her tone calm but firm, "these guests are not only royalty but are as observant as they are powerful. The slightest error will be noticed. Do you understand the importance of this?"
Hermione straightened, nodding. "Yes, Mistress Isabell. Everything must be perfect."
Mistress Isabell watched her, seeming to consider something. "Good," she replied after a moment. "If you perform well, this could mean an advancement in your standing within The House. Do not waste this opportunity."
Hermione nodded, her heart pounding. Advancement was a rare concept here, and while she had her suspicions about what it might mean, the idea filled her with a strange mix of hope and dread. She didn't trust The House, but if a higher standing meant a chance to glimpse the truth of this place, she would take it.
As she moved to dust the room's ornate mirror, she heard the quiet footsteps of the other maids as they prepared the other guest rooms. Lila slipped into the room beside her, her eyes wide.
"Do you think we'll actually see them?" Lila whispered, her voice tinged with awe.
Hermione kept her movements steady, her voice low. "I don't know. But if they're as important as Mistress Isabell says, they might not even notice us."
Lila's gaze flickered with curiosity. "Still... it would be something, wouldn't it? To see someone so powerful?"
Hermione's hand paused, her mind flickering back to Hogwarts, to the countless powerful figures she had met and the battles she had fought. She knew better than to be dazzled by titles. "Power," she murmured, "isn't always what it seems."
Ron's POV - Evening
The dinner hour arrived, and Ron joined the line of servants in the dining hall, each one moving in near-perfect silence as they filed in and took their seats. He scanned the room, looking for Hermione, and eventually spotted her across the hall, her gaze focused and serious as she settled into her place.
He tried to catch her eye, but a guard's sharp gaze made him look away. Tonight, every step, every motion felt heightened, the whispers of the guests' arrival filling the air with an unspoken tension. He could feel it in the way the guards watched them, the way their teachers had drilled them harder than usual.
After dinner, as the servants filed out, Ron caught a quick glimpse of Hermione slipping down one of the quieter hallways. He darted after her, falling into step beside her once they were out of sight.
"They're really going all out for these guests, huh?" he whispered.
Hermione glanced around, making sure they weren't overheard, then nodded. "Apparently, they're royalty—two princesses. Mistress Isabell said they're exceptionally observant, so everything has to be perfect."
Ron huffed, rolling his eyes. "Great. Royalty who'll probably notice if I put a fork a centimeter out of place."
Hermione shot him a look, though a faint smile tugged at her lips. "Just try not to cause any trouble this time, Ron. We're already under more scrutiny than ever."
He smirked, shrugging. "Hey, you know me. I'm a master of subtlety."
Hermione stifled a laugh, her expression softening. For a moment, they were just themselves again, two friends caught in the midst of something strange and difficult.
"Let's just get through this," she said, her voice growing serious again. "If we do our jobs perfectly, maybe we can learn something about why these guests are here—and what's really going on in The House."
Ron nodded, his face settling into a look of determination. "Yeah. And maybe... maybe we'll get closer to finding out what's happened to Harry."
They exchanged a silent, resolute glance, the weight of the promise unspoken but understood. Together, they would endure this, and together, they would find the answers they needed.
As they returned to their rooms, Ron felt a flicker of hope despite the tension in the air. Whatever lay ahead, he wasn't facing it alone—and he knew, with Hermione at his side, that he could get through whatever The House threw at him next.