Cela sat frozen in the chair across from her grandfather, her fingers gripping the edge of the table. The silence stretched between them, thick and heavy after their last conversation. Horace's words still echoed in the room, their weight lingering like a shadow. His furrowed brows, his slow exhalations, the reluctant softening in his voice—she had won him over, if only just.
Then, as if a spring had been released, she leapt to her feet.
"I must write back. Immediately," she declared, her voice trembling with excitement. "They must know—I'll be coming to Hogwarts."
Horace raised an eyebrow, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Already? Celestia, the ink on Dumbledore's blasted letter has barely dried."
Cela ignored him, moving swiftly to the desk. "It doesn't matter! I need to reply. I can't wait another moment."
She pulled parchment and quill from the drawer, her hands shaking with anticipation. Horace leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, watching his granddaughter bend over the paper, her hair falling forward in a golden curtain.
"Take your time, child," he murmured. "The school won't vanish if you take another five minutes."
"I can't wait, Grandpa ," she insisted, already scratching the first words onto the page. "Dear Professor McGonagall… no, no—Dear Professor Dumbledore…"
She paused, nibbling the quill thoughtfully, and started again.
Reading aloud, she wrote, "I am honored to receive my letter of acceptance to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I will be attending this year and look forward to beginning my studies."
Her voice cracked with emotion, and she quickly wiped at her tears, though she continued writing.
Horace muttered under his breath, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Merlin help me… this girl will drive me to an early grave."
Cela glanced up, smiling through the tears. "Grandpa , don't you see? This isn't just a school. This is Hogwarts. Hogwarts!"
Her hand pressed to her chest as if to contain the joy swelling within her. "All my life I've read about it. All my life I've imagined it. And now—I'm really going. I'm truly going."
Horace's lips twitched, trying to hide his amusement, though it broke through anyway.
"Yes, yes," he said with mock solemnity. "The grand castle, the moving staircases, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall. It's all terribly dramatic, I suppose."
Cela rolled her eyes, ignoring the teasing. "Terribly wonderful, you mean."
She bent back over her parchment, scratching faster. "I look forward to learning Charms, Potions, and Transfiguration. Thank you for granting me this opportunity."
"Careful," Horace said, wagging a finger. "Don't list the entire curriculum or you'll need a second scroll. They'll think you're writing your autobiography."
Cela laughed through her tears. "Let me be! I want them to know how grateful I am."
"Gratitude, yes," Horace said, puffing his chest, "but restraint too. Remember, your letter is not a potion recipe—it does not improve by adding every ingredient in the pantry."
Cela sighed dramatically but still smiled, dipping her quill again. "Fine, fine. I'll keep it shorter."
Her handwriting slowed. She reread what she had written and carefully signed her name: Celestia Slughorn. The ink gleamed wetly in the lamplight. She blew on it, her heart pounding with giddy relief.
"There," she whispered. "It's done."
She held the parchment to her chest like a sacred treasure.
Horace leaned forward, voice gentler than usual. "Satisfied now, my dear?"
"More than satisfied," she said, nodding eagerly. "I feel as if I've been waiting all my life for this moment."
***************
She tied the parchment to the leg of the family owl. The tawny bird gave a sleepy blink but accepted its task, stretching its wings. Cela whispered to it, "Take it straight to Hogwarts, do you hear? Straight there. Don't get distracted."
The owl hooted lazily and swept out the window, disappearing into the dusky sky. Cela pressed her hands together, staring after it. "It's real. It's finally real."
**************
Turning back to her grandfather, her face glowing with joy, she said, "Grandfather, I need to prepare—oh, there's so much to do! My trunk, my books, robes—I don't even have any of school supplies yet!"
Horace smirked, leaning back. "Calm yourself, Celestia. The train leaves in twenty days. Twenty. You could brew a full stock of Pepperup Potion in that time and still have a week to spare."
"But that's just it!" she exclaimed. "I don't want to waste a moment! I want to be ready, everything perfect. My cauldron polished, my quills sharpened, my—my shoes cleaned."
"Shoes?" Horace raised a brow. "Since when has a Slughorn ever fretted over shoes?"
"Since this one is going to Hogwarts," she said, giggling.
******************
She began pacing, hands clasped, speaking rapidly as her excitement bubbled over. "I'll finally meet other students. Real students, my own age. I wonder what they'll be like. I wonder which House I'll be in—oh, Grandpa , what if I'm sorted into Slytherin like you?"
"Then you'll uphold the finest traditions of our House," Horace said proudly. "Though I suppose if you land in Ravenclaw, I'll forgive you. They're tolerable enough."
"And Gryffindor? And Hufflepuff?"
"Gryffindors are noisy. Hufflepuffs… well… Hufflepuffs," he said with a shrug. Then he pointed his finger at her. "But you—you will excel, no matter where you're placed . Mark my words."
Cela blushed. "Thank you, Grandfather."
As Horace watched her, he was struck by her joy—he had never seen her so excited, so alive. A smile tugged at his lips, but beneath it, worry still lingered. Despite his fears, he knew he could no longer prevent her from going to that school—not after seeing this side of her.
In that moment, it was as if she had suddenly reached for her dreams, as if her whole being had been awakened. And then a painful realization struck him: had he been the one holding her back? Was he the reason she had been kept away from Hogwarts for two long years, simply out of fear of losing her?
Guilt washed over him. I'm sorry, Cela, he thought. It seems I was the only one standing between you and your dreams—not the school, not the world—just me. My selfish love, my loneliness… I kept you from what you wanted most.
He sighed deeply, his eyes softening. 'I may have seemed harsh, even cruel,` he admitted quietly, 'but it was only because I wanted to keep you safe from the outside world. I know it's a cowardly excuse… but from now on, I will never come between you and your dreams.'