Seeds of Loyalty
The days passed with a steady rhythm, and Harry continued his training with renewed focus, each lesson sharpening his mind and strengthening his resolve. He was constantly watched, assessed by the masters, and each test felt like a stepping stone on his path to truly becoming a master. Yet his thoughts often drifted back to Ron and the task he had been set. Every moment he'd spent convincing Ron had felt like a game of chess, each word chosen to break down Ron's resistance piece by piece.
One morning, as Harry was practicing combat drills with Master Callum, a guard entered the training hall and approached quietly.
"Apprentice Harry," the guard said with a bow. "There's someone waiting to see you outside The Shell. He claims he has... reconsidered his path."
Harry's face remained impassive, but inside, a sense of triumph flickered. He nodded to Master Callum, who gave him a faint look of approval.
"Well done, Harry," Callum murmured, his tone satisfied. "Go. Show him the path."
Harry inclined his head and followed the guard to the stone building on the edge of the grounds, The Shell's foreboding structure rising before him. Outside, Ron stood waiting, his posture stiff, his face grim but lacking the defiance that had once defined him. When he saw Harry approach, his expression shifted—a mixture of resentment, resignation, and a hint of hope.
They stood there in silence for a moment, the air thick with unspoken tension. At last, Harry spoke, his voice steady and calm.
"You called me here, Ron," he said quietly. "Does that mean you've thought about what I said?"
Ron shifted, his eyes darkening, but he nodded. "I have," he said, his voice rough. "Doesn't mean I agree with everything you said, but... maybe you're right. Maybe fighting against this place is pointless."
Harry stepped closer, keeping his tone neutral. "It's not about giving in, Ron. It's about finding strength within the rules. I've told you—if you show loyalty, if you adapt, they'll give you a place here. A real place. And you don't have to lose who you are."
Ron looked away, his expression conflicted. "And what if I'm not like you, Harry? What if I don't want to be a... a master?"
Harry studied him, choosing his words carefully. "You don't have to be a master. But you do need to find a way to make this life work for you. Surviving here isn't about being in control—it's about knowing when to yield, when to build trust. Start small. Show them you can be trusted. The rest will come."
Ron hesitated, his fists clenching as he took a steadying breath. "Fine. I'll... I'll try. But only because I don't see another way out of this."
Harry nodded, hiding the satisfaction that surged within him. "Good. Then let's begin."
Ron's First Test of Obedience
They walked side by side through The House's stone corridors, Ron's gaze wary as Harry explained the day's tasks. Their first stop was the servants' quarters, where Ron would begin his work under the direct supervision of a senior overseer named Eldric, a no-nonsense man with an iron will.
As they entered the dim room, Eldric looked up, his gaze appraising. He gave Harry a slight nod, his eyes flicking to Ron with thinly veiled skepticism.
"Apprentice Master," Eldric greeted, his tone respectful but firm. "This is your... recruit?"
Harry nodded. "Yes. He needs guidance, and I know you're the right man to give it to him. Show him what discipline looks like."
Eldric nodded, stepping closer to Ron. "I don't tolerate mistakes, boy," he said in a low, stern voice. "You do exactly as you're told, or you'll find yourself back in The Shell before nightfall. Do you understand?"
Ron nodded, his face set in determined resignation. "Yes, sir."
Harry stayed to watch the first task—polishing the floor to an immaculate shine, a job Eldric stressed was a reflection of each servant's commitment to precision and obedience. Harry noted Ron's subtle resistance, the tension in his shoulders, but he also saw Ron biting back any words of defiance.
After a few minutes, Harry leaned down, speaking quietly but firmly. "Remember, Ron. It's not about the task itself—it's about showing them you can be relied on. You'll earn their trust through small actions."
Ron nodded again, more for show than out of any enthusiasm, but Harry could see he was absorbing the lesson. This was only the beginning, but it was a start.
The End of the Day: A Private Conversation
When evening came and the day's work was done, Harry returned to check on Ron. He found him in the servants' common area, seated alone at a table, his face tired but resolute.
Harry took a seat across from him, watching him quietly. "How did it go?"
Ron shrugged, looking down at his hands. "It went... fine, I guess. Hardly inspiring work, but Eldric didn't throw me back into The Shell, so I must've done something right."
Harry allowed a small smile. "It's a start. Keep this up, and you'll find yourself moving up, maybe even to better tasks."
Ron frowned, his gaze distant. "And then what, Harry? Do I just keep... obeying? Keep doing everything they ask without question?"
Harry's expression softened slightly, understanding the battle that still raged within Ron. "You'll find a way to be yourself, Ron, even in all of this. But survival comes first. The rest... it comes slowly."
Ron looked at him, something almost like sadness in his eyes. "You're different, Harry. I hardly recognize you anymore."
Harry paused, the words hitting a tender spot he'd been ignoring. But he pushed it aside, reminding himself of his purpose, his role. "I'm still me, Ron. I'm just... stronger now. And you can be, too."
They sat in silence, the weight of their past and present settling over them, and Harry realized that no matter how much he had changed, some things would always stay the same. But if he could help Ron survive here, maybe he could preserve at least one part of the life he'd once known.
As he rose to leave, he placed a hand on Ron's shoulder, a quiet reassurance. "One day at a time, Ron. Trust me."
Ron nodded slowly, watching as Harry left, and for the first time, Harry felt a flicker of hope that Ron would adapt—that he would learn the art of loyalty and, in time, find his place here.