The fire in the Leaky Cauldron's hearth burned bright green, swallowing one witch after another as they vanished into the Floo Network. The tavern was loud with chatter, clinking glasses, and the faint scrape of chairs. Tom, the barkeep, leaned on the counter and polished a mug absentmindedly, smiling at the sight of so many young students coming and going with their parents.
Hermione stepped through the door into the Leaky Cauldron from Diagon Alley, brushing soot off her robes. She gently tugged Cela by the arm to keep her from stumbling as parents and children hurried in and out, bustling to and from Diagon Alley. Ginny followed close behind, navigating the crowded entrance with ease.
"Careful, Cela," Hermione said gently. "Some people here don't know how to behave. That's what I dislike about Diagon Alley—many don't care who's in front of them, whether it's a child, a girl, or a woman; they'll just push through. And don't get me started on bringing my parents. Some wizards throw around discriminatory slurs or sneer at them. Thankfully, my parents don't understand the words, but it hurts me to see them innocently looking around, unaware of how much this society judges us just for being different."
Cela cleared her throat, straightening up as she glanced around the bustling tavern. "I'm sorry you feel this way. It's tough to change the mindset of people who've spent centuries believing they're superior. Changing this society will take a lot of work, effort, and time."
At a corner table, Harry Potter sat with Ron and the Weasley twins. Ginny went toward her parents, clutching her new books to her chest. They all looked cheerful after their long day shopping in Diagon Alley.
Hermione spotted them at once. "Oh, Harry! Ron!" she called, dragging Cela along as she hurried over.
Harry looked up, his face breaking into a smile as Hermione waved. "Hermione! You're back! I looked for you in Diagon Alley but couldn't find you. I wanted to talk about…" His gaze shifted to Cela, and he trailed off, hesitating since he didn't know her well enough to continue.
Hermione smiled apologetically. "Sorry, Harry. I was with Cela—she's new, so I was helping her get her school supplies."
Cela offered a shy nod. "Sorry for stealing your friend."
Ron, eyeing Hermione's cat with a scowl, waved a hand dismissively. "No worries, it's not that important. Besides, I don't want her or that little monster anywhere near me and Scabbers."
Hermione rolled her eyes. "Don't worry, Ron. Crookshanks doesn't eat filthy, half-dead rats like yours. Scabbers is practically in the grave already."
Cela bit her lip, suppressing a laugh to avoid disrespecting Ron and the potential potion test subject.
Before Ron could respond, Mrs. Weasley's voice rang out from across the bar. "Boys, we're heading home! Get ready and say goodbye to your friends."
Ron straightened up. "Right, I should go. Harry, Hermione, I'll see you tomorrow on the train." He turned to Cela with a nod. "Nice to meet you again, Cela. See you at Hogwarts."
Cela smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you too, Ron."
Mrs. Weasley approached, her face kind as she addressed Cela. "My dear, our home is always open to you. I'd be delighted if you visited us sometime."
Cela's smile widened. "Of course, Aunt. I'd love to visit one day, why not?"
Mrs. Weasley beamed, then turned to Hermione and Harry. "Goodbye, dears." With a final warm smile, she ushered her family toward the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace.
Hermione gave Cela's hand a gentle squeeze. "We should get going too—we've got to prepare for tomorrow's trip." She turned to Harry with a smile. "See you tomorrow morning, Harry."
Harry grinned back. "See you tomorrow, Hermione. You too, Cela."
Cela nodded. "See you tomorrow."
With a final glance at Harry, Hermione scooped up Crookshanks and led Cela toward the Leaky Cauldron's fireplace, hurrying to make their way back.
Cela stood for a moment, watching Hermione disappear into the flames, before she followed her stepped into the fireplace herself.
"Slughorn house, Suburb , London!" she called clearly, tossing down the powder. The world spun in green and gold, and when she stumbled forward at last, it was into the familiar warmth of her home small living room.
As Cela reached the door, she spotted Hermione standing there. Hermione smiled warmly upon seeing her. "I'm heading home to pack my clothes and books for tomorrow. See you then!"
Cela returned the smile. "Okay, see you!"
After their goodbye, Cela made her way to her grandpa's room.
Horace Slughorn sat in his favorite armchair, a plate of sugared pineapple on a small table beside him. His round face brightened as soon as he saw her.
"Ah, Cela, my dear! Back at last! Did you enjoy yourself?"
Cela dropped her bag and sank into the chair opposite him. "It was… wonderful. Busy and crowded, but wonderful. I met the Weasleys, Harry Potter, and—oh, so many shops, Grandfather! I could have stayed in Flourish and Blotts all day."
Slughorn chuckled, his belly shaking. "Ah, Flourish and Blotts. Dangerous place for a bright mind. One can get lost in those shelves for years." He leaned forward, eager. "Now, tell me about the Weasleys. Good folk, the lot of them, though poor as dust. Arthur—ah, a most curious man. Collects Muggle rubbish, doesn't he?"
"Yes, but he was so kind," Cela said earnestly. "And Mrs. Weasley—Molly—she told me she was once your student."
At that, Slughorn puffed up proudly. "Indeed she was! Quite a talented young witch, Molly Prewett as she was then. Excellent with potions—though perhaps not as disciplined as she might have been. Always more interested in brewing quick cures than in the elegant art of it. Still, she had a gift. I will say that for her."
"And Mr. Weasley?" Cela prompted gently.
Horace waved a hand, lips twitching. "Arthur? Oh, well… let us just say he was not quite cut from the same cloth. Spent more time fiddling with plugs and toasters than studying. Brilliant heart, mind you. Honest to a fault. But as a student? Hopeless!"
Cela tried to hide her smile. "You don't mean that, Grandpa."
"Oh, I do, I do! But," he added warmly, "the Weasleys are good people, Cela. Loyal. Brave. If you make friends with them, you'll have allies worth keeping for life. Never underestimate loyalty."
Cela leaned back, thoughtful. "I liked them. The twins seemed funny, and Ginny—she's bright and sweet , I think we'll be friends."
"Ginny, eh? A spirited girl you say, I should think. Molly always had a fierce streak. The apple rarely falls far from the tree."
They talked like this for a long while, Cela describing each encounter, each shop, each person she'd met. Slughorn listened with great interest, laughing at her impressions, adding little comments about former students he remembered, or offering warnings about which shopkeepers were trustworthy and which were not.
Finally, when Cela's excitement had begun to calm, Slughorn reached down beside his chair and lifted a small, elegant bag. Its leather was deep green, stitched with silver runes that shimmered faintly.
"This, my dear," he said, handing it to her with great ceremony, "is for you."
Cela accepted it carefully. "A… bag?"
"Not just any bag." Slughorn's eyes shone. "An enchanted one. It has been expanded with space magic. You can fit all your books, robes, cauldrons, even potion ingredients—and it will weigh no more than a feather. No need for a trunk."
Cela's mouth fell open. "Grandfather! Isn't that… isn't that forbidden? The Ministry bans space-extension charms for personal use, don't they?"
Slughorn chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "For ordinary folk, perhaps. But a potion master like myself? No one dares raise a fuss. And besides, do you think Aurors will come storming into your dormitory to measure the inside of your bag? Pah! Ridiculous."
Cela bit her lip. "But what if someone asks questions?"
"Then you smile sweetly and say nothing at all. Trust me, Cela, it will be fine. Every serious potioneer I've ever known carries such a bag. How else do you expect us to travel with rare ingredients? Dragon liver spoils quickly, you know."
Cela laughed despite herself. "I suppose so."
Slughorn leaned closer, lowering his voice with mock seriousness. "Besides, the Ministry has bigger troubles than chasing after schoolgirls with enchanted handbags."
Cela hugged the bag to her chest. "Thank you, Grandfather. It's beautiful."
He softened, his eyes unusually gentle. "You deserve it, my dear. You are clever and diligent—far more than I was at your age. You'll go far, Cela."
The day passed quickly after that. Cela spent them brewing simple potions under her grandfather's watchful eye, practicing wandwork, and reading until late into the night. The little green bag grew steadily heavier with books, clothes, quills, potion vials, until she began to marvel at its bottomless space.
Then came August 30th. The next morning sunlight poured through the windows, and Cela knelt on the floor, carefully packing her last few things. Bottles of powdered root, vials of colorless potion, her cauldron, a neat stack of parchment. All slipped into the green bag without the slightest bulge.
Slughorn waddled into the room, adjusting his waistcoat. "All packed, my girl?"
"Almost," Cela said, zipping the bag shut. "It feels strange—it doesn't look like I've packed anything at all."
"That's the beauty of it," Slughorn said proudly. He handed her a slip of parchment. "Here—an address. If you ever need more potion ingredients, owl this supplier. The bill will come straight from the Slughorn vault at Gringotts. No need to trouble yourself."
Cela blinked at the paper, then at him. "Grandfather—that's too generous."
"Nonsense," he said briskly. "I won't have my granddaughter wanting for supplies. If you're to be a potioneer worth your name, you'll need access to the best. Don't be shy about it."
She rose and hugged him tightly. "Thank you."
And Slughorn said nothing clever but to smile at her happy face. He only patted her back, his throat tight of her granddaughter's departure.
A sharp knock rang through the house. Cela started to pull away, and Slughorn chuckled, "Seems your friend's here to escort my princess. Go on, open the door for them."
Cela hurried to the door. When she opened it, Hermione stood there with both her parents—Mr. and Mrs. Granger—smiling warmly.
"There you are!" Hermione said. "Ready for the big day?"
Cela nodded eagerly. "Yes. Just finished packing."
Mrs. Granger smiled kindly. "We thought we'd come fetch you so you could ride with us to King's Cross. As Hermione said you made an appointment with each other yesterday."
Slughorn appeared behind Cela, puffing himself up as he shook hands with the Grangers. "Ah, dentists! Remarkable work you do, truly. Now, do take care of my granddaughter. She's quite precious, you know."
Cela blushed. "Grandfather!"
The four of them laughed, and after a last hug, Cela stepped out with Hermione and her parents. They climbed into Mr. Granger's car, the bag resting lightly on Cela's lap despite its hidden weight.
As the car pulled away, Cela glanced back once at the house, at her grandfather waving from the doorway. Her heart swelled with excitement, nerves, and a deep, quiet gratitude.