Cela sat still in the armchair, her knees pulled close together, her fingers laced tightly in her lap. Across from her, in the high-backed chair, her grandfather adjusted his waistcoat but kept his eyes fixed on her. The silence stretched, heavy, broken only by the ticking clock on the mantel.
"Grandfather," she said softly, breaking the quiet. "You're still not convinced, are you?"
Slughorn's brows furrowed. "Convinced? My dear girl, there's nothing to be convinced about. It's dangerous, and that's the end of it. Hogwarts is not safe. Not this year. Not for you."
Cela leaned forward, her voice trembling but resolute.
"Grandfather… you know I've wanted this for as long as I can remember. Since I was a child, I've dreamed of walking those halls—of sitting beneath the same roof that you and Mother once did. I've only known Hogwarts through books and through your stories, but I want more than that. I want to be there. I want to live it for myself.
I understand why you hesitate. I know you want to protect me, that you're afraid of losing someone else you love. But please—don't let that fear cage me. I know you blame Hogwarts for what happened to my mother, but it wasn't the school's fault. It wasn't Hogwarts that made her choice—it was hers. She gave her life to protect her friends, and I'll always be proud of her for that.
Hogwarts didn't take her from us, Grandfather. And keeping me away won't bring her back.
You studied there. You taught there for decades. You of all people know the wonder, the lessons, the friendships that can be found there. I want to walk the same corridors you did. I want to live those same experiences—not just through your stories, but with my own eyes, my own heart.
It's my dream, Grandfather. Please… let me go."
Her grandfather waved a hand, though not unkindly. "Always the dreamer. Always your mother's daughter." He sighed. "But Cela, listen to me. I don't say these things to cage you. I say them because I fear for you. Because I nearly lost everything once already."
She swallowed hard, her voice gaining strength. "I know. I know you're afraid of something happening to me. And do you think I'm not afraid too? I am, Grandfather. I am. But if I spend all my life only being protected, hidden away—don't you see? That would be far more dangerous."
Slughorn's eyes flickered, uncertain. "Dangerous? Being safe is never dangerous, child."
"No," Cela pressed, leaning further. "Someday, I have to grow up. I have to build my own life. You can't protect me forever. You shouldn't. And if I don't start now, when will I? When I'm twenty? Thirty? When the world has already passed me by?"
Slughorn shifted uncomfortably, his hands gripping the arms of the chair. "You don't understand. Your mother… she…"
"I know," Cela said quickly, before he could turn away. "You don't have to say it. She made her choice. That was her life. She died because she believed in something greater. And you don't have to feel guilty about that, Grandfather. You don't have to blame yourself. She gave her life knowing that I—her daughter—would have a chance at a better future. A future not under the tyranny of someone like the Dark Lord."
Her voice cracked, but she went on, eyes bright with tears. "And I believe she'd want me to live. Not to hide. To learn, to grow, to walk the same halls she once walked."
Slughorn looked away, blinking rapidly, his voice unsteady. "You speak of her as though you knew her, as though you could see inside her heart. But you were too young. You couldn't possibly—"
"But I do," Cela interrupted, her hand pressing against her chest. "I feel her in me. I feel her choices in the life I have now. And I can't let that go to waste. Grandfather, she went to Hogwarts. And I want to go there too. I want to know what she knew, live what she lived. I want to sit in classrooms, laugh with friends, run in the corridors. I don't want to be locked away in silence while the rest of the world moves on without me."
Slughorn finally looked at her then, his round face heavy with emotion. "But you know, Cela… Sirius Black is on the run. He will go after Harry Potter, no doubt about it. And if he goes there, if he breaks into that school… you will be in danger."
Cela drew in a deep breath, steadying herself. "Grandpa," she said gently, "I'm not alone. Hogwarts isn't just empty walls. There are professors, wards, and students who look out for one another. I won't be unguarded."
Slughorn turned sharply to her, his eyes flashing. "Not unguarded? Nonsense! There's a killer on the loose, and you call that safe?"
"Safer than during the last war when Mother was studying," Cela replied evenly. "Back then, Hogwarts faced constant threats from Death Eaters, yet you let her study. Now, with better safety measures in place, you hesitate to send me?"
Cela reached out then, her voice pleading but calm. "Grandfather… listen to me. You're scared I'll be attacked. I understand. But I'm not alone in this. I'm not the only child whose family is afraid. Every single student at Hogwarts has someone at home who loves them, someone who worries something terrible might happen. But still, they're allowed to go. Still, they're trusted to learn and grow. Why should I be different?"
"You are different," Slughorn muttered, his voice rough. "You're special. To me."
"Yes," Cela whispered. "To you, I am. But to the rest of the world, I'm just another girl. And maybe that's a good thing. Maybe I need to be just another student. Not protected more than anyone else, not hidden as though I were glass. Let me go. Please."
For a long moment, Slughorn said nothing. His chest rose and fell heavily, his lips pressed tight. Then at last he spoke, his voice cracking under the weight of memory.
"You are just like her," he murmured. His hands trembled slightly on the chair arms. "Just like your mother. When she stood before me, telling me she would go fight, telling me nothing could sway her… she looked just like you do now. Fire in her eyes. Stubborn as the sun itself. And I couldn't stop her either."
Cela rose then, tears slipping free as she crossed the space between them. She knelt by his chair and took his hand in both of hers. "I know, Grandfather. I know. And I love you for caring so much. But I have to go. I have to live. Please, let me."
Slughorn's lips trembled, and then a weak, watery smile broke through. His eyes glistened, and tears finally fell down his cheeks. "I can't even win against you, can I? No more than I could against her."
Cela threw her arms around him, hugging him tightly. "You don't have to win. Just walk beside me. That's all I need."
He held her close, his body shaking with quiet sobs. Then, after a long silence, he drew back, brushing at his cheeks with a shaky hand. "Very well. I agree. But—" He lifted a finger, his tone stern though his eyes were soft. "On one condition."
Cela sniffled, smiling faintly. "Anything."
"You will write me letters. Every week—no, every two or three days if you can manage. You'll tell me what happened, what you've learned, if you're eating properly, if you're… safe. Do you understand?"
She laughed through her tears, nodding eagerly. "Yes. Yes, of course. I promise. I'll write so often you'll be sick of hearing from me."
"Never," Slughorn said firmly, cupping her cheek with one broad hand. "Never sick of hearing from you."
Cela leaned into his hand, whispering, "I love you, Grandfather."
His voice broke as he answered, "And I love you, my dear girl. More than anything."
They stayed like that for a long time—two generations bound by grief, hope, and love—until the ticking of the clock seemed softer, and the weight of fear began, little by little, to lift.