The underground laboratory was quiet except for the soft bubbling of the potion simmering on the cauldron and the occasional clink of glass as Cela carefully stirred her vial. The lamp's warm glow illuminated the stone walls, highlighting shelves lined with jars and flasks, each labeled with neat handwriting. Shadows flickered against the walls as the two girls worked, but the space felt safe, insulated from the bustling world above.
Cela placed the vial on the counter, brushing a stray curl from her face. "So, Hermione, tell me about the atmosphere between the Hogwarts houses. I've read there are four houses, and I heard they have some pretty intense rivalries. Is that true? When I go with Grandpa to parties or meetings, people seem to antagonize each other. I asked him about it once, and he said it's all rooted in their school days. The house sorting creates rivalries that stick with them even after they leave Hogwarts, carrying that tension into the outside world." Her voice was soft, nearly lost in the gentle hum of the simmering potion.
Hermione glanced up from her own potion, her expression thoughtful. "You're not wrong. Hogwarts has four houses—Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin—and yes, the rivalries are real. It starts with the Sorting Ceremony in first year. The houses value different traits: Gryffindor for bravery, Hufflepuff for loyalty, Ravenclaw for intellect, and Slytherin for ambition. That alone sets the stage for competition, especially since the houses compete for points all year to win the House Cup. Gryffindor and Slytherin have the fiercest rivalry—partly because of history, partly because their values clash so much. Slytherins often see Gryffindors as reckless show-offs, while Gryffindors think Slytherins are sneaky and power-hungry."
She walked around the underground as she continued to explain. "It's not just about points or Quidditch matches, though those get heated. The tension comes from how the houses shape your identity at school. You're surrounded by people who share your values, so it's easy to see other houses as 'different' or even 'wrong.' Some professors don't help—Professor Snape, for example, openly favors Slytherin, which doesn't exactly ease things. By the time students leave Hogwarts, those house loyalties can stick, like Mr. Slughorn said. You'll see grown witches and wizards at Ministry events or parties still sizing each other up based on their old house affiliations. It's silly sometimes, but it's real."
Cela nodded, absorbing Hermione's words. "So, it's like a grudge that never fully goes away?"
"Pretty much," Hermione said with a wry smile. "Not everyone holds onto it, but for some, it's like a badge they wear forever. That said, there are friendships across houses too. It's just… the rivalries tend to be louder."
Hermione hesitated, her voice cautious as she began. "Well, there's this thing I have to admit… I don't want you to be surprised when you attend Hogwarts one day. At school, there's this different kind of rivalry between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It's not just playful teasing. Some Slytherins—especially certain Pureblood families—hate us. They think Muggle-borns like me are… less because we weren't born into magical families."
Cela paused, absorbing Hermione's words. She reached for her mortar and pestle, grinding a few dried herbs as she listened intently. "I see," she said softly. "I've read about that divide in history books—Purebloods and Muggle-borns, a tension that's lasted centuries. I've even seen it myself, meeting some of my grandfather's old students."
Hermione's voice dropped to a near whisper, trembling slightly. "It's… it's hard sometimes. They call me and others like me… names. Mudblood. And worse." She sighed , the word cutting through her like a fresh wound. "I try not to let it get to me, but… it's everywhere. The Purebloods—some of them—they don't even bother pretending to be civil. They openly look down on us."
Cela set her pestle down and studied Hermione with an earnest expression. "I understand. I know… how hurtful words can be, especially when they come from someone who believes themselves superior. But you… you're clever. You're strong. And that matters more than what they think."
Hermione looked up, her eyes wide, hope flickering through them. "Do you… understand what it's like? You know… being judged by blood status?"
Cela tilted her head, considering. "I am… half-blood. My father is Muggle-born, my mother Pureblood. That makes me… neither completely one nor the other." She let her words hang for a moment. "I suppose it gives me perspective though I haven't been in such situations."
Hermione's lips moved in a whisper. "That's… good. That's really… good."
Cela raised an eyebrow. "Why do you say it's good?" she asked, a faint smile tugging at her lips.
Hermione hesitated, then said quietly, "Well… because it means you're not like… Draco Malfoy. He… he calls people Mudbloods, and he… he's just cruel. That's why I… why I hate it when he comes near."
Cela laughed softly, a warm, bubbling sound that filled the room. "Hermione," she said gently, "you shouldn't care what Malfoy—or anyone like him—says. Words… words are fleeting. They don't define you. What matters is your brilliance, your scores, your achievements. That's what counts."
Hermione let out a heavy sigh, her eyes distant. "I try to rise above it. That's why I've spent these past two years studying so hard, proving they can't mock me. But… I'm still human. Sometimes, no matter how patient I am, it gets to me, and I get emotional. Then I bury myself in books to escape."
Cela's voice was calm yet resolute, her blue eyes steady on Hermione. "I can't fully grasp your pain—I've only seen this kind of prejudice from the outside. But one thing I know: the more you achieve, the more confidence and skill you build, the less their words can touch you. People like Malfoy… they lash out because they're insecure. It's never truly about you—it's about them." A soft smile curved her lips. "Their cruelty is just weakness in disguise."
Hermione let out a small laugh, a mixture of relief and disbelief. "I… I've never thought about it that way before. It… it makes sense, actually. It's… comforting to hear it from someone else."
Cela nodded. "It's easy to feel hurt by others, especially when you're young and trying to find your place. But brilliance, kindness, and determination… they carry more weight than any insult."
Hermione hesitated, then leaned slightly closer, lowering her voice. "Cela… do you think… the Slytherins ever understand what it's like for Muggle-borns like me? Or do they… do they just hate us forever?"
Cela considered, her eyes thoughtful. "Some of them… maybe. Some will never change. But you… you don't need to wait for them. You don't need their approval. Focus on your studies, your skills, and your friendships. The rest… will fall into place."
Hermione's lips curved into a small, grateful smile. "You… you're amazing, Cela. I don't know… I've never met anyone like you. Not at Hogwarts. Not really."
Cela's eyes twinkled with a playful glint as she leaned in, her tone light and teasing. "You know, if you spend thirteen years living with a century-old man, you're bound to pick up a few of his habits—like giving grand speeches. Everything I just said? Straight from Grandpa's playbook." She let out a soft giggle. "Hehe, I'm just passing on his wisdom." They both laughed as the previous tension eased.
At last, the potion shifted to a rich emerald hue and a light, invigorating scent filled the air. Cela nodded, satisfied. "It's ready."
Hermione leaned in to peer into the cauldron, smiling. "It looks perfect."
Cela reached for a ladle and filled two small vials, corking them neatly. She handed one to Hermione. "For you. Just a sip will clear your head on a tired day."
Hermione accepted it with a warm smile. "Thank you. Really, Cela… this has been amazing."
Cela tilted her head with a warm smile. "I'm glad you came. Looks like you've picked up something new about potions today."