A couple of days had passed since Cela had sent her acceptance to Hogwarts. The morning air carried a gentle warmth, and the sun shone through the windows of the Slughorn two story house, painting the wooden floors in gold. Horace Slughorn rose from his chair, stretching leisurely, and looked toward his granddaughter.
"Come, Celestia," he said suddenly, a glint of purpose in his eyes. "I want to take you somewhere today."
Cela paused in her preparation of a small breakfast, turning to him with curiosity. "Somewhere? Where, Grandfather?"
Horace smiled mysteriously. "I'll tell you when we arrive. But for now, trust me."
Curiosity piqued, Cela nodded, allowing herself to follow him. They Apparated in an instant, and when the world came back into focus, they were on a quiet street in London.
Cela looked around, taking in the unfamiliar sights. "Where are we?" she asked again.
Horace waved her question away with a flourish of his hand. "You'll see soon enough. Just stay close."
They walked to the other side of the street, pausing in front of a modest house with a yard. The scent of freshly cut grass and the faint hum of life surrounded them. Horace leaned close to her and whispered, "Now, observe quietly."
Cela frowned. "Observe? Who…?"
"Shh," he said, murmuring a quick incantation. Both he and Cela shimmered and disappeared from view. They were invisible.
From the yard, Cela saw a man, tall and broad-shouldered, around thirty-five, laughing as he played with a young boy, about eleven or twelve. The boy held a cricket bat, and the man was bowling gently, a smile tugging at his lips.
Her breath caught. She had seen his photo before, countless times, and now, here he was—her father.
She turned to her grandfather, voice shaking. "Grandfather… why did you bring me here?"
Horace looked at her, calm and resolute. "It's time, Celestia. Time for you to meet your father."
"I told you, I don't want any contact with him!" she exclaimed, stepping back instinctively.
"You have to," Horace said gently. "I know you've avoided it, but you must connect. That boy there," he nodded toward the child, "is your half-brother. And that man is your father. You need to know them."
Cela's voice rose, incredulous. "But after my mother passed… he abandoned magic. He left me with you! He made his choice. Why remind him? Why make him confront the past again? The past that he doesn't want to remember or associate with again."
Cela continued, her voice trembling with conviction. "And now you're bringing me here just to force him to relive a life he's moved on from. I was left with you because I look like my mother, wasn't I? He was only twenty, so young, with his whole life ahead of him. I'm sure he didn't want to spend his youth raising me. And if I show up now, announcing to the woman he married that her husband has a grown daughter from another family, do you think he'd welcome me? I'd be a stranger who could shatter his family's peace. I don't think this is a good idea, Grandpa."
Horace placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Celestia, he's your father. You deserve to know him, and he deserves to know you. Yes, he's hurting—he lost someone he loved, your mother. After her funeral, he came to me, handed you over, and said he wanted to return to the Muggle world to start over, far from wizards. He broke his wand and built a new family. But no amount of pain justifies what he did—leaving you fatherless. He doesn't get to walk away from that. He needs this connection as much as you do. He's your father, your family, and that comes with an obligation to be there for his daughter. A man doesn't run from his responsibilities, no matter how many excuses he makes. You two are close family, bound by blood."
Cela shook her head. "Grandfather, I already have a family. It's you. You've been everything to me—a grandfather, a father, a mother. I'm happy the way I am. Why disrupt his life? Why remind him of what he's chosen to leave behind?"
Horace's expression softened. He placed his hand gently on her head, smoothing her hair. "Sometimes you act far too mature for your age. But I understand. If that is what you want, then I will not force it. I only wished you to know that family exists for you, whenever you wish to reach out. Perhaps one day, you will reconnect. Perhaps one day, he will share stories of your mother."
Cela looked again toward the yard. The man and boy continued their cricket game, laughing. Her father's dark hair caught the sunlight, and his brown eyes sparkled as he bowled a ball.
The man glanced at the spot where Horace and Cela had stood just moments before, now empty after they Apparated away. Finding nothing, he murmured, "Hind," his voice heavy with sadness. Then, his son's voice broke through the quiet.
"What are you looking at, Father?" the boy asked innocently, noticing his father's distracted gaze.
"Nothing, nothing," he replied quickly, smiling. "Come on, I'll bowl for you again."
The boy laughed. "You'll never take my wicket! I'll be playing for England one day!"
"Sure, sure," the man chuckled, letting the ball roll harmlessly past.
************
With a soft bang, the two figures reappeared in the safety of their own yard. Cela blinked, readjusting to visibility. Horace regarded her with a proud smile.
"So," he said lightly, "when are you going to Diagon Alley to get your school supplies?"
"I already have my wand," Cela replied quickly. "I just need my books, robes, and a few other essentials. Hermione will join me when she returns from France, and we'll go together."
Horace's eyes brightened. "It seems your friendship with that girl has grown stronger."
Cela smiled warmly. "Yes. She's very clever, and although she isn't as skilled in potions as I am," she said with a teasing grin, "she learns faster than anyone else. She's stubborn and competitive at times, but she's my first real friend—my age, someone I can rely on. I value her greatly."
Horace chuckled. "I'm glad. You won't tire of Hogwarts if you have a friend by your side."
As they walked back toward the inside of the house, Cela turned to him, her face glowing. "Grandfather, what do you want for tonight? What shall I prepare?"
"I fancy a beef broth," he said casually.
"Then I'll need to shop for fresh vegetables and meat," she said, her excitement already buzzing. "You want a special treat, don't you?"
Horace nodded, smiling warmly. "Yes, indeed. Go, then. Be careful, child. And don't forget your apron."
Cela laughed, twirling slightly before heading to the kitchen.