I don't own Hellsing or Harry Potter, and I'm not making any money from this.

The next day was the official start of term. During breakfast, everyone was double checking their schedules to figure out when their classes would be held.

"What are we starting out with?" Ron asked. Apparently, he'd lost his schedule during their escape from the Whomping Willow. Harry consulted his.

"Double Potions with Slytherin." he said, making a face. He glanced over at Connie. "What have you got?"

"Charms with Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff." She replied. "I don't have Potions until third block."

It was a bit weird to be the only Gryffindor in a class, but after last year she was slowly becoming accustomed to it. Constance took a bite of cereal and glanced sideways at Hermione. She was writing a few last minute things in a notebook in preparation for class. But there was something in there that captured her attention. Every line that had something to do with Defense Against the Dark Arts was bracketed with bright pink stickers in the shape of hearts.

"What the devil is that?" she demanded.

Hermione looked up, perplexed. "It's the list of supplies I need to take to all our classes...?"

Connie shook her head. "No, what are those?"

She pointed at the stickers, and Hermione blushed. "I'm... just marking the most important sections so I'll remember them."

Uh huh. She thought. And they just all happened to be about Lockhart. She quirked a brow.

"And you're using hearts?" she questioned.

That captured Harry and Ron's attention. They both leaned over to get a look at what she was talking about.

"Bloody hell, Hermione, that's all Lockhart's class." Ron said. "You fancy him?"

"I most certainly do not." the girl replied with a sniff. "I simply admire him for all the amazing things he's done, and these stickers were the only ones I had available."

Without another word, she pushed her plate away and got up from the table. Either Ron had touched a nerve, or she was too embarrassed to stay there with them. The boys watched her go with similar expressions of bewilderment on their faces.

"She's worse than mom." Ron commented, leaning over to whisper. "She can't stop talking about the man either. Looked like she was going to faint when we bought our school books."

Jesus, what on earth was so amazing about the man to make every female in the magical world fall in love with him?

Her first lesson in Charms turned out to be an interesting one. Professor Flitwick gave a brief lecture on the history and various uses of the flame-freezing charm. The spell was designed to make fire harmless, so that you could be completely surrounded by it and only feel like you were being tickled. Small pots were set on each desk, each containing a conjured fire. When Flitwick finished his lecture, he set them all to practicing. They had to perform the charm, then place their hand in the flames to test whether or not they had been successful. Connie personally thought that was a dangerous way to test a spell. She made sure to pass her fingers above the fire first, feeling how hot the flames were before actually sticking her hand in the middle of it. There were several other students who weren't so thoughtful. One Hufflepuff girl thrust her entire arm into her pot of fire, making the sleeve of her shirt burst into flame. Flitwick had to rush over to put out the fire, then examine the extent of her injures. She wound up having to go to the hospital wing for third degree burns. Most of the class was put off practicing that particular spell after the incident.

Herbology was second block. Professor Sprout's lesson was all about the care of Mandrake plants. It was a bit disconcerting that they'd have to take the young plants and place them into bigger pots. However, their teacher assured them that they were too young for their cries to be fatal. As long as they wore earmuffs, they would be alright. The moment Sprout pulled the first Mandrake out to demonstrate the process, Neville's eyes rolled into the back of his head and he hit the floor. Seamus nudged him with his foot, then declared he had fainted. Constance couldn't blame him. The roots were as ugly as sin and looked like the sort of thing you would see in a nightmare. When they all began potting their own plants, Draco had to go and be and idiot about it. He stuck his finger in the mouth of his Mandrake and threw a God awful fit when it bit him. Honestly, what did he expect it to do, sing his praises and kiss him?

When their foray into the new greenhouse was over, she and her friends had to part ways for a second time so she could go to her Potions class. Instructions were already written on the blackboard when she arrived. They were assigned a babbling potion, and once all the teams were finished brewing, they'd have to drink it to demonstrate it's effectiveness. With the way things usually went in class, it was going to take a miracle for someone to not kill themselves. She honestly didn't know if she'd be able to drink it after seeing what went into it. There were dung beetles, puffer fish stingers, dragon saliva... It was no wonder the potion made you babble like a crazy person. There was enough poison in it to make anyone's brain go loopy. When Snape started making his rounds through the classroom, Mihnea leaned over to whisper.

"Ten seconds till the twins loose you points."

Connie shot him a look. "What makes you so sure?"

"Snape's almost to their table." he replied, then started counting down. "Five, four, three..."

"Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley." the Potions Master announced. "You're to slice the beetles, not smash them."

Her cousin made a face. "Damn it!" he exclaimed as quietly as possible. "Off by two seconds."

She felt an odd mix of wanting to hit him and roll her eyes. Now he was guessing how long it took for Fred and George to make a mistake. She glanced toward the back of the room where they were working. George was the one who'd been using the flat part of his knife to squish the beetles to death. When Snape turned his back, he stuck his tongue out at him.

"Ten more points for not keeping your tongue in your mouth where it belongs." Snape said, not turning around. "And I'll see you both in detention."

Fred's mouth fell open. "But I didn't do anything!"

The professor finally whipped around to face them. "You seem to be particularly keen on losing points today." he said with a sneer. "Ten points for speaking out of turn."

Both boys continued to gape at him as he walked back to his desk. When they finally shook their heads and glanced over at her, Constance gave them both a death glare. She mouthed a quick 'shut up!' at them.

"Eyes on your own work, Miss Stryker, or you'll be joining them."

She immediately turned back around in her chair and closed her mouth. Snape gave her a stern look, then went back to doing his paperwork. It was the first time she'd ever been threatened with a detention, but at least he didn't take any points away from her. After her experience with that over the summer, she was determined to not let it happen again.

"Forty points!" She exclaimed during lunch. She hit George in the back of the head with a notebook. "What the hell is wrong with you two? The first three times weren't enough for you?"

"Hey!" George complained, rubbing his head. "Why am I the one who gets hit?"

"Because you're the one who threw a dung bomb at Snape's desk!" she fired back. "Do you have some kind of weird fetish for getting in trouble?"

They both stared at her with blank expressions. "What's a fetish?"

Hermione nearly choked on her pumpkin juice and quickly spit it back into her cup before it sprayed out her nose. Harry had to smack her on the back a couple of times while she fought back her coughing fit. Constance was surprised they didn't know what the word 'fetish' meant. Yet another thing the magical world didn't have. These people didn't seem to know very much about the world...

"Never mind." she said. "You don't want to know."

"No seriously!" they both said. "What's a fetish?"

She let out a deep sigh. That wasn't exactly the best conversation topic to talk about in the middle of lunch. Thankfully, everyone was distracted by an owl flying overhead. Mail always came first thing in the morning, so it was highly unusual to see one that time of day. It was painfully apparent who it was from when the bird overestimated it's landing and crashed right into the table. It was Errol, the Weasley's owl. Once all the laughter died down, it hopped upright and dropped a bright red envelope in front of Ron. The boy looked horrified, staring down at it like it was going to come to life and attack him. Seamus thought it was funny.

"Hey, look!" he called out. "Weasley's got himself a howler!"

Neville leaned over and gave him a nervous, yet sympathetic look. "You'd better open it." he advised. "I ignored one from my gran once and it was awful."

Connie had no idea what the significance of a howler was, but it sounded bad. Ron hesitantly opened the envelope, and she found out why everyone made such a big deal out of it. Before he could pull out the letter contained within, a loud, angry female voice poured out. It had to be his mother. It ranted at him about stealing the car, and said something about his father getting in trouble at work for it. The voice calmed long enough to tell Harry that they didn't blame him for the incident at all, and Ginny how proud they were of her making it into Gryffindor, then the letter ripped itself into pieces. Everyone stared silently at the shredded pile of paper scattered across Ron's plate.

"Um... wow." Constance said. "I'm sorry."

That was all she could find within her to say. Getting an angry letter from your parents was bad enough, but having to sit through it yelling at you where everyone could hear was just about the worst thing she could imagine. Harry examined Ron for a moment, then cleared his throat.

"Maybe we should go on to class." he suggested.

Ron nodded, but still looked a bit out of it. "Yeah..."

He was so shaken by his howler he was weak in the knees as they walked out of the Great Hall. Constance made a mental note to never tell her parents about the existence of those things. If they knew about howlers, she'd probably wind up getting one from them eventually.

Maybe Harry's past comments about the DADA position being jinxed were true. First was Quirrel, the man with Voldemort in the back of his head, and now they had Gildroy Lockhart. The man was a complete imbecile. Constantly strutting about the school like he was God's gift to humanity. He seemed like the sort of person who was all looks and no brain. The mere idea of him actually doing the things he claimed to be responsible for in his books pushed the limits of believability. If he had done even half of those things, surely it had been accidental and he was greatly exaggerating the details.

Their very first class in Defense Against the Dark Arts had nothing to do with the subject at all. Professor Lockhart spent most of the block talking about himself. They learned about every single award and honor he'd ever received. According to him, his first experience with battling dark creatures occurred when he was three years old. A kappa had somehow snuck into his nursery to attack him for no reason whatsoever. Probably to spare the rest of the world from what he would turn into when he grew up, the girl thought. Lockhart, as a toddler, woke up before the beast had the opportunity to do anything, and strangled it until it broke free to run away. The was no way in hell that had actually happened. A three year old wouldn't have the mental capacity to understand what a kappa was, much less have the physical strength to do what he claimed. Kappas were ordinarily found in Japan, so what was one doing in Britain anyway?

The first assignment he gave them for homework was to write a six foot long scroll about the various reasons why he'd won Witch Weekly's 'Most Charming Smile Award' five years in a row. Connie was preparing herself in advance to fail the assignment. She had no idea what to write for it. For the first time, she left Hermione to work on the assignment herself, while she poured through options with the boys. Harry and Ron thought it was just as stupid as she did. But after a couple of hours of brainstorming, they came up with enough BS to fill half of the assigned scrolls length. The rest was taken up by carefully rewording everything they'd already written. Hopefully, the professor would think they were going on and on about how wonderful he was, rather than not doing the essay properly. When they turned them in next class, Constance noticed that Hermione's scroll was nearly eight feet in length. How on earth had she managed to do that? The girl had incredibly small handwriting, so for her to come up with an essay that long was the equivalent of writing a small book about him. The first part of class was spent reading over everyone's essays out loud, and him making comments about them.

"Excellent work, Miss Granger!" Lockhart praised upon reading it. "I see you've been paying close attention to all the details about myself. Five points to Gryffindor!"

Hermione blushed deeply and smiled with pride. Lockhart returned to flipping through the essays.

"Now, of course, it is understandable that the boys wouldn't take into account all the aspects of my physical appearance that would cause me to win such a prestigious award." he told the class. "But Miss Stryker! I am absolutely shocked that you failed to mention my extraordinarily white teeth and sparkling blue eyes!"

As she was mentally running through all the various ways she could hex his teeth to make them less 'desirable' looking, he finally finished with the writing assignments and began the class in earnest. That too, proved to be idiotic.

"Now then, I must warn you that the things you encounter in this classroom will shock you. You may find yourself facing your darkest fears here." Lockhart said as he swept around his desk with a dramatic wave of his cloak. He used his wand to tap what looked like a birdcage covered with fabric. "I must warn you not to scream. It may provoke them!"

With a flourish, he snapped the fabric off the cage to reveal what lay underneath. They were Pixies. Pixies. No one in their right mind would consider those things to be dark creatures. Incredibly annoying and bothersome, perhaps. Maybe even destructive when they were feeling particularly mischievous. But certainly not creatures worth wasting their time with in a class designed to teach them how to defend themselves against the dark arts. Then he did the craziest thing imaginable. He opened the door of the cage and let the whole mess of them loose. There had to have been at least forty pixies shoved into that tiny little space, so naturally, they were upset about it. And they took out their anger on the entire classroom. They pulled pictures off the walls and threw them around. Some pulled at the hair and clothes of the students. A group of five of them actually lifted Neville off the ground and hung him from the chandelier by the neck of his robe. In an astonishing display of ignorance, Lockhart attempted to put the pixies back into their cage by waving his wand around like it was a baton. Not surprisingly, the creatures stole it from him and utilized it for their own purposes.

Constance was too worried about the little devils ripping her hair out to think about using her wand. She grabbed the heaviest book she could find to beat them off of her. Harry was doing the same, giving a hard smack to a pixie that was pulling at Hermione's ears. At the front of the room, their professor was battling with the creatures in an attempt to save the pictures of himself they were tossing around. He managed to get one free from their little hands and ran out the door. The few students who hadn't run out of the room to save themselves from the chaos were left behind to deal with the mess on their own. Their number was made up of Hermione, Harry, Ron, Seamus, and Connie herself. She didn't include Neville in her list because he was fighting not to choke to death while hanging from the ceiling. The five of them huddled into a circle, each facing outwards with their wands drawn. They managed to hit several of them with spells that made them drop helplessly to the floor. Then Constance heard an odd creaking sound and looked up.

The pixies who had stolen Lockhart's wand were using it to break the chains suspending the massive skeleton of a dragon. The few chains that remained untouched weren't strong enough to hold the weight of it on their own.

"Take cover!" she shouted, just as the last chain snapped.

They all flew in opposite directions, ducking under desks and holding their arms over their heads to protect themselves. The skeleton came crashing down and broke into pieces when it hit the floor. Good God, if that had hit someone...

Finally, either Hermione was fed up with what was happening, or something about the dragon nearly killing them caused her to remember a spell she'd read about somewhere. She threw out her wand hand and cast an immobilizing charm on the entire room. All the pixies immediately froze where they were and fell out of the air.

"Bloody hell..." Ron said, looking around at all the carnage the creatures had caused.

"Hey!" a voice called out, making all of them look up. Neville was still hanging from the chandelier. "Could one of you help me get down? I'm stuck."

Seamus performed the levitation spell that he claimed to have finally mastered. However, he apparently hadn't 'mastered' it enough, because when Neville was about six feet off the ground, the spell broke and he landed with a heavy thud.

"OW!"

Seamus winced. "Sorry, Neville."

As they gathered up what survived of their bags, Constance noticed one of Lockhart's photographs laying on the floor nearby. She looked to make sure that Hermione was heading out the door, then glanced back down and gave it a good stomp. The frame broke, and the glass covering the picture shattered. The boys all stared at her.

"What?" she questioned, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "He'll never know it was me."

They all looked amongst each other, then back at her.

"You're brilliant." Ron said, looking like she had done the most amazing thing in the world. "Have I ever told you that?"

Constance smiled, then picked up one of the heavy books she had used to beat the pixies off with. Behind Lockhart's desk, there were several pictures of him that had survived.

"There's more." she said, pointing. "Target practice, anyone?"

That was probably the most enjoyable class they had ever had. They stood back and threw every sort of heavy object they could find. By the time they finally decided to walk out, every single photograph and painting of their cowardly professor was was decimated beyond recognition.

And since there were no adults around, no one ever found out it was them that had done it.