Lessons in Power
The sun was still low in the sky as Harry made his way to Master Callum's quarters. He was eager for further training, for the lessons that would enhance his control, his understanding of magic, and ultimately his command over The House.
As he reached Callum's door, he knocked once and entered, expecting to find Callum alone. But to his surprise, there was a young boy inside, no older than eleven, positioned on all fours near Callum's chair, his head bowed low. Master Callum sat comfortably, his feet resting on the boy's back as though he were nothing more than a piece of furniture.
The sight caught Harry off-guard, and he paused for a moment, unsure of what he was seeing. The boy looked up and greeted him with a surprisingly calm voice, considering his position.
"Good morning, Apprentice Master Harry," the boy—Tim—said, his tone polite and subdued.
Harry glanced at Callum, a question forming on his lips, but Callum's expression was unbothered, a faint smile lingering.
"Ah, Tim," Callum said, pressing his feet a little more firmly against the boy's back. "Tim is here because he wants to be. He ran away from home just to serve me as my footstool and... whatever other furniture I might require." Callum's smile grew faintly amused. "He's been trained well for this, and he loves it."
Harry looked at the boy again, noting the quiet satisfaction in Tim's expression, the way he held his position without complaint, his gaze fixed forward.
"I see," Harry said, accepting the unusual arrangement. He turned back to Callum, his mind refocusing on his purpose. "Master Callum, I came for more training. I want to deepen my control of magic."
Callum's gaze sharpened, his smile fading into something more focused. "Excellent. A worthy pursuit, Harry. Magic is nothing without control, without purpose."
He shifted his feet off Tim's back and rose to his full height, gesturing to the boy. "Tim, while I am gone, you'll clean this room thoroughly and be ready for any other duties I require upon my return."
Tim immediately knelt down, pressing his forehead to the floor in a gesture of absolute submission. "Yes, Master," he replied, his voice filled with a quiet reverence.
With that, Callum placed a hand on Harry's shoulder, guiding him out of the room and down a series of narrow corridors until they reached a private training chamber. The walls were lined with old books, runic symbols, and artifacts that Harry recognized as enchanted. The room itself felt charged with a low hum of magic, as though it held a life of its own.
Master Callum stepped to the center of the room, turning to face Harry. "Magic is like a river, Harry. It flows with power and purpose, but without guidance, it can be destructive. To master magic is to shape that river, to make it obey your will."
Harry nodded, absorbing every word. Callum's presence commanded respect, and his mastery of magic was something Harry aspired to. He wanted that same control, that same seamless power.
"Today, we will start with the basics of energy manipulation," Callum explained, gesturing for Harry to stand across from him. "The first step is sensing the magic around you—feeling it, understanding its flow. Only then can you hope to control it."
Harry closed his eyes, allowing his senses to expand. He could feel the hum of energy in the room, a subtle but powerful force that seemed to pulse through the air, filling the space with life.
"Good," Callum said, his voice low and calm. "Now, focus on that energy. Draw it to yourself, but do so gently. Magic is a force, and if you pull too hard, it will resist you."
Harry concentrated, feeling the magic respond to his call. It was like coaxing a wild creature closer—he could feel it shifting, moving toward him, a soft, invisible current flowing through his body. He felt a surge of exhilaration, the thrill of connecting with something so powerful.
"Excellent," Callum murmured. "Now, keep that flow steady, and focus it. Shape it into something tangible."
Harry obeyed, channeling the energy into his hand. He opened his eyes to see a faint shimmer of light surrounding his fingers, like a small spark of controlled fire. The sight filled him with pride, a deep sense of accomplishment.
"Impressive," Callum remarked, a note of approval in his voice. "With practice, you will be able to channel larger amounts of energy, shape it to your will. But remember—magic is only as strong as the mind controlling it. Discipline is key."
The rest of the day passed in intense focus as Callum guided him through exercises, each one more challenging than the last. Harry felt his understanding of magic deepen, his control strengthening as he practiced, honing his abilities under Callum's steady guidance. Every technique, every correction brought him closer to the mastery he craved.
When the day finally came to an end, Harry was exhausted but filled with a quiet satisfaction. Callum dismissed him with a nod, his approval evident.
"Good work today, Harry. You're beginning to grasp the essence of control. Continue to practice, and you will go far."
Harry inclined his head respectfully. "Thank you, Master Callum. I'll continue to work hard."
With that, he left the training room and made his way to the dining hall, where the rest of the family was already gathering for dinner. The conversation flowed around him, but his mind was still focused on the day's lesson, replaying each moment, each success.
As the evening drew to a close, Harry felt a sense of calm settle over him. He was making progress, carving his place in The House's hierarchy, gaining the knowledge and skill he needed to command respect. He retired to his quarters that night, confident that he was one step closer to his goals.
Tomorrow, he would practice again, and each day after that, until he could wield his power with complete mastery.