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

The next morning, the whole Gryffindor table was abuzz with conversation about Harry's new broomstick. The members of the Quiddich team were ecstatic that their seeker now had the best equipment available, while the boys -and a fair amount of girls- all wanted to see and touch it for themselves. Constance was going over a few last minute notes with Neville in preparation for their first class of the day, but was paying attention to the goings on around her. It was too amusing to ignore. If Hermione hadn't stayed behind to put the finishing touches on an essay for Arithmancy, she had no doubt the girl would be telling them off.

"Could I have a go?" Seamus asked hopefully. He made a gesture of deference. "After you, of course."

Harry was grinning like the cat that caught the canary. He was so damn proud of that Firebolt. And the requests were becoming so numerous that he had to turn most of them down.

"I already promised the three of them a ride." he told him, jerking a thumb toward Ron and the twins. "I don't know about letting anyone else ride it because the more people there are, the more likely something could happen to it."

Seamus looked a little put out that he wouldn't get a chance to take a test flight, but quickly shook it off. "Oh, no problem! That's fair." he gushed. "If I had a Firebolt, I wouldn't want too many people playing around with it either."

Ron laughed behind his hand and leaned over to speak quietly to Harry. "Maybe you should start a list?"

"Or charge per flight!" Fred piped up, hearing his brother's suggestion. "You'd make loads."

Lee Jordan leaned forward to look past George. He was wearing a wide, playful smile of his own. "Hey, you mind if I come have a look when the team starts practicing again? I want to make sure I'll be able to keep up with you during the games! You made my job hard enough zipping around on that Nimbus of yours."

Harry laughed at his enthusiasm. "I don't care." he said. "But don't think I'm going to slow down just so you'll be able to see what I'm doi..."

Connie noticed a flash of movement out of the corner of her eye and waved a hand at him to be quiet. Professor McGonagall had just entered the Great Hall from one of the side doors and was striding resolutely toward their table. She came to a halt directly in front of Harry.

"Mr Potter, you're to accompany me to your dormitory this instant." she announced.

Everything went still and the boy himself froze. "Um... what for, professor?"

Professor McGonagall gave him a stern look. "I believe you know 'what for', Mr. Potter." she said pointedly. "I've just learned that you recieved a questionable gift last night. A Firebolt, if you want me to be specific. It's to be confiscated for a thorough examination."

"Confiscated?" he repeated, shocked. His face went ashen. "But there's nothing wrong with it!"

The woman didn't look impressed. "What makes you so sure of that? Can you verify where it came from or who the sender was?"

Harry hesitated. "Well... no, but..."

McGonagall held up a hand to stop him. "No 'buts' Mr. Potter. Unless you can give definitive proof of where it came from, the broom will be handed in for testing. Given the circumstances, I am very disappointed that I didn't hear about this from you." She frowned and made a beckoning gesture. "Now, come with me to your dormitory, if you please."

"Professor..." the boy said, making an attempt at another protest.

"Now, Mr. Potter."

The woman's voice left no room for argument and Harry flinched at the hardness of it. The jovial atmosphere dropped off and everyone stared at him in an uncomfortable, but sympathetic, silence. The boy wordlessly pushed himself up from the table to go with their head of house. The whispers started up the moment they were out of earshot.

"How'd she find out?" Ron demanded. He shot an accusing look at Constance. "Was it you?"

Connie sat back and gaped at him, offended by the insinuation. "No, it wasn't me!" she exclaimed.

"Then who the..." his words trailed off as he caught sight of something behind her. His face twisted up into a hateful scowl. "I knew it! I'm gonna kill her!"

The girl turned in her seat to see what on earth he was talking about. Back at the door McGonagall entered through, Hermione had poked her head in to peer inside. Constance then realized what must have happened. Hermione hadn't stayed behind to work on an essay at all. She had gone off to report the Firebolt when no one was around to try to talk her out of it. When Harry and McGonagall reached the door, she saw the boy give her a long, disbelieving look which quickly shifted to one of betrayal. Hermione tried to say something to him, but Harry ignored her attempt and coldly brushed past her. Her face fell and she looked back over. Pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, she entered the room and walked over to the Gryffindor table. Judging from everyone's expressions, this was not going to be pretty.

"What the devil did you do, Hermione?" Ron said harshly when she sat down across from him.

The girl looked uncomfortable with all the hard looks coming at her from every direction, but she squared her shoulders and brushed it off. "I did the right thing." she replied. "What we should have done last night."

Ron looked like he wanted to jump across the table and throttle her. "We agreed not to turn it in last night, remember? You just had to run off and be all superior about it like always, didn't you?"

"Maybe you all agreed to that, but I certainly didn't." Hermione told him. "It isn't safe."

Fred and George decided to get involved in the argument. "The hell it's not." they said together. They leaned over and lowered their voices so the students sitting nearby wouldn't hear them, then pointed at Constance. "She checked it!"

"Yes, and Connie is a teenage girl who doesn't have the knowledge or the experience to make the sort of judgement call she did." the girl shot back, albeit in a lower tone of voice. She glanced at Connie sideways. "And you shouldn't have gotten their hopes up."

Constance bristled despite herself. Hermione was falling into that self-righteous attitude of hers, and the way that came out of her mouth was downright insulting.

"Excuse me?" she demanded. "Who are you to talk about what I do and don't know? I've had to make judgement calls a hell of a lot more serious than that before, and I wouldn't have said what I did if I didn't believe it!"

Hermione gave her a stern look of disapproval. "You said yourself that you weren't an expert and you could have missed something." she countered. "That broom needs to be looked at by an adult."

"All she said was that it was possible she missed something." George pointed out. "Anything is possible if you think about it long enough. That Firebolt will be useless once the teachers get through with it! At least we knew Connie's way wouldn't muck it up!"

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "There's a difference between doing things the easy way and the right way."

"The right way?" Connie asked, getting more and more offended. Did she not realize how she sounded?

"She means her way." Ron stated with a sneer. He looked back at Hermione. "That's how it always has to be, isn't it? Your way. Because you know everything and the rest of us are stupid, right? This doesn't have a thing to do with you! That was Harry's broom, and he should get to decide what happens to it! But you didn't like that, so you had to go sticking your nose where it doesn't belong. You don't give a bowtruckle's rear end what the 'right thing' to do is. You're a bleeding two-faced snitch is what you are!"

Hermione's mouth dropped open and she stared at him in shock for a long time. Her gaze slowly turned cold.

"That's what you think, is it?" she asked in a low voice.

"Yeah, that's what I think!" Ron affirmed.

The girl glared him down silently, then shoved herself back from the table. Constance's indignance began to falter as she watched Hermione grab her things and turn on her heel to stomp off. Okay, so maybe she was offended at having her abilities questioned, but she knew deep down that she had only reported the broom out of concern for Harry's well-being. And no matter how angry or upset they were, Ron shouldn't have been so harsh with her.

"Hermione, wait!" she called out.

Either she was ignoring her, or had gotten far enough away that she couldn't hear. When calling for her didn't get a response, Constance jumped up from the table to run after her. She caught up to her before she got to the door and grabbed her arm.

"Please, stop!" she said.

Hermione whirled around to face her. "Is that what you think as well?" she asked in a rush of breath. "That I always have to have it my way? You know that's not what this is about! I thought after everything that's happened you would be worried about Harry too."

She was obviously angry about how the conversation had gone, but her eyes showed a gleam of hurt as well. Hermione never responded well to being called names.

"I am worried about Harry." Connie insisted. "And I don't agree with what Ron said to you. I understand why you did it."

Hermione pulled her arm free from her grip and stepped back away from her. "But you still couldn't say that in front of him, could you?" she said with a note of accusation.

"Well excuse me for being a little miffed at you acting like I was an ignorant fool for doing anything!"

"I never said tha...!"

"You didn't have to, Hermione." Constance interrupted with a resentful huff. "That's what it sounded like. I wasn't the only one who took it that way either. You don't have to agree with the things I do or the decisions I make, but don'tmake out like I'm stupid because I'm not."

Hermione stared at her for a long time, as if just realizing how her words had come across. Her expression sobered. "I didn't mean it that way. I just..." She blew out a long stream of air and rubbed at her temples. "I knew they would be upset with me. Maybe I should have told them what I was doing first. But we've been through too much already, and even the smallest chance of something being wrong is too much for me. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself if something awful happened and I knew I could have done something to stop it."

"I know." Constance said. She understood the sentiment perfectly. Unfortunately, they didn't have time to talk it over. Overhead, the bell was ringing to signal the start of classes. She glanced over her shoulder at the table, then turned back to her. "Everyone is stressed out right now, but we'll figure it out. They can't stay mad forever."

Hopefully the teachers would get through with their examination of the Firebolt quickly. She imagined they all would be on edge until Harry got it back in proper working order.

But it was the 'proper working order' bit she was worried about.

As the day progressed, it became exceedingly clear how pissed the boys were about the situation. Harry and Ron steadfastly refused to sit anywhere near Hermione during classes. If she tried to speak to them, they would glare at her and turn their backs, or push past her and walk away as if she hadn't spoken at all. There wasn't much time to get a word in during classes themselves or in the hallways as they travelled between them, but Connie finally got a chance during History of Magic. Professor Binns lectured in his droll, monotone voice whether people were paying attention to him or not. He was known for giving lessons to empty rooms, so he wouldn't notice a group of students talking about something else in the back of the room.

"You two are being right stupid about this." she whispered pointedly once she had scooted close enough for them to hear. She looked specifically at Harry. "She only did it because she's worried about you."

The boy gave her a look. "I don't care why she did it." he said in a hard voice.

"You should." she told him. "Her heart was in the right place."

"Yeah, and where her heart was will mean a lot when I get a useless broom back." he snapped.

Ron was sitting on the other side of Harry, so he had to lean forward a bit to speak to her. "I suppose you agree with what she did, since you're defending her?" he challenged.

"Don't put words in my mouth, Ron." she said with a frown. "The only reason Ididn't push you guys into telling a teacher is because I didn't find anything. I'm not the least bit happy about her going behind my back like what I did doesn't matter, but I still know her well enough to tell that she was only trying to help."

"Maybe she should stop trying to 'help' then." Harry muttered. "I didn't ask for it or want it, so she should have left well enough alone."

Constance decided then that it was probably best to stop talking to them about it. They were too angry to see reason. But she continued to fret for the rest of the day. She didn't like her friends fighting amongst themselves over something as trivial as a damn broom (even if it was an expensive one) and she wouldn't rest until she found a way to fix it.

When the time for Potions came around, she was still thinking deeply about the matter. Mihnea noticed her odd demeanor, so once they got started with the class assignment, he questioned her about it. Their conversation was broken into pieces due to having to drop into studious silence whenever Snape came around to their section of the room, but she explained as much as she could. Her cousin drank in all the information and hummed thoughtfully.

"I'm not surprised Potter's mad at her." he commented as he diced up gurdyroots into neat, tiny pieces. "I'd be pissed as hell too. Maybe this will teach Granger a lesson in not stabbing people in the back."

The girl would readily admit she found her friend's actions to be a little underhanded, but saying that it was a stab in the back was going a bit too far. Connie gave him a look. "Like you haven't done the exact same thing before?"

His knife paused mid-slice and green eyes glanced up from their work to peer at her meaningfully. He knew full well she was referring to the time he'd reported them to the teachers for going out in search of the Philosopher's Stone first year.

"That was different." he said.

"How?" she challenged.

"Because you were involved and I wasn't." he said simply. He looked down his nose at her in an almost chiding fashion, then went back to his work. "Not to say I don't trust you, but if Potter gets any other mysterious objects that need to be checked for curses, you should probably let me help out." he offered with a shrug. "If anything, I could make sure Granger doesn't cause problems later on."

Constance tried to imagine how that would have gone over. "The boys kind of blindsided me, so I honestly didn't think of asking you to help." she admitted. "It's probably better that I didn't, because I would hate to have to come up with an explanation for how you can get into the Gryffindor common room."

Mihnea arched a brow at her. "I would think we've gone way past the point of having to 'explain' little details like that to your friends." he said. "They should be able to figure out all the hows and whys on their own."

The girl opened her mouth to counter, but stopped herself. He had a point. Keeping secrets for so long had affected her thinking process and she was still getting used to this new idea of not having to explain away every odd thing that came up. Her cousin rolled his eyes at her and shook his head.

"Here." he said, pushing a couple of unsliced roots toward her. "You work on cutting those up. They're on the juicy side."

Connie obligingly set aside the mortar and pestle she was working with to pull the gurdyroots in front of her, but gave him an odd look. "Juicy?" she repeated.

Mihnea caught her questioning expression and pointedly shifted his eyes toward Snape, who was making his rounds at the back of the room. "I'm trying to avoid rolling up my sleeves." he told her.

Ah... she thought. He didn't want the Potions Master catching a glimpse of his scars. She wasn't sure how aware Snape was of Mihnea's physical state, but if the man knew he didn't have marks on his arm before leaving school and saw he had returned with a new set of perfectly healed scars, it would rouse suspicion. Ordinary people didn't heal that fast.

"Does Dumbledore know?"

Constance shook herself out of her thoughts and blinked at her cousin's question. "About the Firebolt?" she asked, wondering if that was what he meant. "I can't imagine why he wouldn't. McGonagall would have told him."

Mihnea shook his head. "No, does he know about you checking it out?" he clarified.

"Oh." she replied. "No, of course not. I did it late last night, so I haven't had a chance to tell him anything." she sat back to study him intently. "Why?"

Mihnea lifted his shoulders slightly. "You're worried about the teachers removing the magic that's supposed to be there, right? It seems to me that if Dumbledore knew the Firebolt had already been examined and nothing was found, he might pull some strings to keep the more damaging tests from being performed."

Constance stared at him. Why on earth hadn't she thought of that? Her face lit up with approval. "Mihnea, that's brilliant!"

He smirked. "I know."

She reached out to give him a small shove in the shoulder. "You don't have to be cocky about it."

"I wasn't trying to be cocky." he asserted calmly. "I was just agreeing with you."

Uh huh. His self-assured, confident manner wasn't doing much to back up his claim. She made a face at him, then thought of something.

"I've never had to go to Dumbledore's office for something before." she commented. "According to Harry you need a password to get in, so am I supposed to make an appointment or something?"

"I guess so." Mihnea replied. "I've never been either so I'm not sure how that works. But I imagine if you told McGonagall you wanted to see him, she'd pass the word along."

That would make sense, considering that a person's Head of House was the first step in the chain of command. She wasn't quite sure what excuse she would give, but she resolved to speak to Professor McGonagall about it at the first available opportunity.

Her chance came at the end of Transfiguration class that afternoon. Constance stayed behind as the other students made their way out and asked Professor McGonagall if there was any way she could meet with the Headmaster. The older woman pointedly asked her for a reason, but Connie just said it was a 'personal matter of great importance' that she would feel more comfortable discussing with Dumbledore himself. That was bound to get the man's attention. After a long stent of questioning, McGonagall finally relented and told her she would speak to him, but made no promises of when she'd actually be able to see him. For as busy as the Headmaster was made out to be, he didn't appear to have any grand plans that particular day. Constance got a response back within a few hours. McGonagall tracked her down as she was leaving her last class of the day and told her that Professor Dumbledore would see her immediately. The woman led her through the maze of corridors to the statue that marked the entrance to his office. McGonagall spoke the password (which was licorice snaps, much to Connie's amusement) then left her to ascend the newly revealed staircase alone.

Professor Dumbledore's office was a massive room filled with all sorts of interesting objects and trinkets. Despite the size and collection of odd things, it had a homey sort of air to it. Warm, welcoming, and a teensy bit eccentric in a likable way, as if the room was an extension of the man himself.

"Ah, Miss Stryker." Dumbledore's voice rang out. "I've been expecting you. Do come in."

Connie peered around and caught sight of him standing next to a large, richly carved oak desk. His phoenix, Fawkes, was perched on a stand jutting out from the wall on his left. She greeted him respectfully and he smiled and gestured for her to sit in one of the large, overstuffed chairs in front of the desk before walking behind it to take a seat himself.

"Thank you for seeing me, sir." she told him. "I know you must be busy."

"Not so busy that a few things can't be set aside for a while." he replied with a nod of acknowledgement. He clasped his hands in front of him. "I was informed by Professor McGonagall that you wished to talk to me about something personal you didn't feel comfortable discussing with her. In light of recent developments, I assume this 'personal matter' is, in fact, the Firebolt Harry recieved last night." he lowered his head to shoot a meaningful look at her over the top of his spectacles. "Am I correct, Miss Hellsing?"

Constance wasn't the least bit surprised he had figured out what she had come for. Dumbledore was an incredibly wise man who knew damn near everything. The sound of the name she only used when at home made her feel more secure in talking about such a sensitive subject.

"Yes, sir." she said. She took a moment to think over the best way to express what she had to say, then began. "I wanted to tell you that I examined that broom for any traces of malicious or out of place magic the moment Harry opened it. I don't know if that will have an effect on any plans you have for it, but I... thought it was something to take into account."

The man held up a hand. "There's no need to explain." he told her kindly. "I anticipated that you would have looked into the matter yourself, so I'm not surprised." His blue eyes twinkled at her and he gestured to a bowl of candy sitting on the corner of his desk. "Have a lemon drop. Perhaps it is only an odd quirk of mine, but I find serious conversations are made more palatable when taken with a dose of something sweet."

It was an odd offer, but the girl couldn't think of any good reason to turn it down. She reached out and took a lemon drop from the bowl and popped it into her mouth. It was a lot more sour than she expected and her face immediately drew up at the sensation. It was so strong that it actually sent her into a coughing fit. Dumbledore chuckled as he took one of the sweets for himself.

"Ah yes, I forgot to mention that this particular muggle brand is rather well known for having a bite." he told her with a wink. He put the candy in his mouth and winced violently just as she had. He gave his head a firm shake, blinking at the sourness. Constance was fairly sure she could see the gleam of tears in the corners of his eyes. "If that doesn't make one alert and ready for anything, nothing ever will." he proclaimed.

She couldn't help but laugh. It was true. Eating one of those sweets felt similar to being smacked in the face with a brick (albeit with most of the pain removed). The Headmaster swallowed down the first lemon drop and allowed himself a moment to recover before taking another.

"Now then, I assume that since Miss Granger was the one to report the Firebolt rather than yourself, your examination revealed nothing of consequence?" he asked her.

Connie sat up straighter in her chair. "No sir, it didn't." she affirmed.

He hummed thoughtfully. "Can you give me a full recounting of what you did? Be as detailed as possible, if you would please."

The girl nodded and commenced explaining everything she had done the night before. It wound up taking a good deal of time because she described everything in the most vivid detail she could muster - knowing that the more she could tell him, the more accurate a picture he got. Dumbledore gave her his full attention and listened intently to her words, nodding and asking questions at various points. When she finished, she sat back more comfortably in her seat and sighed.

"I realize it's probably odd that Hermione was the one to report it and not me." she admitted. "But I did everything I knew to do and I couldn't find a single thing out of place. The reason I agreed to look at the Firebolt to begin with was because Harry was worried that if he turned it in to a teacher, they would strip away all of it's magic and leave it ruined. I told him it was possible I missed something and I still think the way it showed up like that is strange..." she shook her head. "But I swear upon my immortal soul that if I thought there was any legitimate chance of that broom being dangerous, I wouldn't have let Harry touch it, much less keep it."

"I believe you, Constance." the Headmaster said reassuringly. "I've seen that you are very loyal and protective of the people you care for, and I can't imagine you needlessly putting a friend in harm's way. I also know that you have recieved a great deal of... let's say 'specialty training' from your family, which give your results significant weight." he paused and held out his arms in an open gesture. "The quandry lies in the fact that I am not the only one who needs to be convinced. I have the concerns of the other teachers to consider, and I'm afraid the opinion of a fourteen year old witch will do little to ease their fears. I'm sure you realize that providing an explanation for why they should take you at your word would put all of us into a situation I don't believe we're prepared to handle just yet."

Constance was touched that he so readily believed her and accepted her results, but she wasn't stupid. She had thought the issue of the other staff members would come up evenutally. She slowly inclined her head. "I understand, sir."

Dumbledore nodded, giving her a sympathetic look, then tapped his chin thoughtfully. "However..." he began, drawing the word out. "It would be a shame to risk damaging such an extraordinary piece of equipment if there's truly nothing wrong with it. Professor McGonagall won't be satisfied unless she performs a few tests of her own, but I don't believe she would argue with me taking over the more 'sensitive' examinations." he gave her that meaningful, twinkle-eyed look of his. "I can assure you that the Firebolt will be far from ruined when it's returned."

The girl breathed a sigh of relief. Hearing the man say those words out loud took the weight of worry off her shoulders. She thanked him sincerely and asked if she could report that to Harry. Dumbledore just smiled and told her that of course she could. He had caught wind of some conflict going on between the boys and Hermione, so learning that the Firebolt wouldn't be destroyed or rendered useless might help to ease the tension between them. With her mission completed, Constance was free to leave and go about her business. But as she was gathering up her bookbag from the floor, she thought of something else she wanted to ask him, but hadn't had an opportunity before now.

"May I ask you a question, Professor?" she asked him.

The Headmaster sat back and waved a hand in offering. "Certainly." he replied.

Connie cleared her throat carefully. "On Halloween night, after Sirius Black broke into the castle, I overheard you talking to Professor Snape." she said. "You told him that you had seen to it that Harry was well protected beyond what he could imagine. I hadn't thought about it before, but I can't help but wonder... were you... talking about Mihnea and I being here?"

Dumbledore didn't look upset or surprised by the question. He simply studied her with a calm, yet curious expression. "How do you mean?"

"Well, I just thought it would make sense." she replied. "Unless there's a vast difference in character, it's usually easy to tell what a house a person will be sorted into by looking at their family. It wouldn't have been hard to figure out that Mihnea would be a Slytherin and I would be a Gryffindor. Those were the two houses the sorting hat considered putting Harry into, so no matter where he ended up, one of us would have been house mates with him. If anything unusual began happening around Harry, we would have been in the middle of it whether we were friends with him or not because neither of us is the sort to say no to an adventure. Our presence would give Hellsing a legitimate excuse to get involved if things became dangerous. And it's an interesting coincidence that you decided to overlook the exile of the Newsom family and allow my cousin and I to attend school knowing that I would be in the same year as him and Mihnea would only be two years ahead."

She kept her tone neutral and conversational as she spoke. Connie wasn't angry about anything and she wasn't attempting to level an accusation at him. This was something she had pretty much figured out and accepted a long while ago, and was simply looking for a confirmation that she was right. Again, the man didn't look upset, but he exhibited no signs of denial either. Dumbledore shook his head and chuckled good-naturedly.

"It seems you've put too much thought into it for me to say anything to the contrary." he told her with a note of approval in his voice. "I will admit there were numerous factors I took into account before sending off Mr. Bassarab's acceptance letter, but there have also been a great number of things I didn't anticipate. The friendships Harry has forged with Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger have been just as valuable as the one he has with you. By the same token, your relationship with George Weasley proved instrumental in placing you at the Burrow at a time when it would have been disastrous for everyone had you not been there. Those are things I never could have planned for." his expression shifted and he looked at her with absolute sincerity. "But I still stand behind what I said during my first meeting with your family. I believe you and Mr. Bassarab have as much of a right to an education and interaction with others your age who share your talents as anyone else. A person's family history or upbringing should never interfere with that. I may not have had enough influence or good enough reasons for extending the same offer to your father or your aunt - which I deeply regret, because I feel they would have excelled here - but Mr. Potter's reappearance in the magical world has opened many doors which otherwise would have remained closed. There are many deep wounds, ancient wounds, inflicted by the actions of wizards in the past. Wounds that continue to be inflicted to this very day. Not just on you, or your cousin and the rest of your family, but on anyone who falls outside the realms of what is accepted. My hope - or indeed, you may call it my prayer - is that my actions and decisions might help provide some form of healing." he paused again to take yet another lemon drop. "The mending of old wounds always provides benefits to others. In this case, yes, Harry will benefit greatly, but I never intended for him to be the only one."

Perhaps, to someone else, that kind of admission would be disturbing. A manipulation of sorts. But really, wasn't that the sort of thing everyone did in their own way? Dumbledore had only taken steps to ensure that people of value would be in Harry's life. The way they came to see and interact with each other was due to the touch of chance. Or fate, maybe.

And Dumbledore was indeed correct. In Connie's eyes, Harry definitely wasn't the only one benefiting from the arangement.

She left the Headmaster's office in time to make to the Great Hall for supper, though it was nearing the tail end of it. The boys and Hermione still weren't on speaking terms, and the girl herself had left shortly before Connie's arrival to resume work on her legal defense for Buckbeak. The trial was fast approaching, and she was determined that Hagrid be prepared for anything that might come up. Harry wasn't there either - having gone off to meet with Professor Lupin for his first private lesson in conjuring a patronus. Fred and George were in the middle of a raging debate with Lee about something or other, so Ron was really the only one around she got to speak to. He questioned her about her sudden disappearace and she admitted that she had gone to see Dumbledore. That caused the boy to perk up with newfound interest, but she refused to tell him anything. Constance wanted Harry to be present when she revealed what she had found out.

The boy wound up returning to the common room a few hours later. His eyes were tired looking, showing the strain of working with magic far beyond a normal level for his age. Ron and Constance set aside the homework they were working on together and gestured for him to come over.

"Hey, mate." Ron greeted once Harry dropped down in the chair across from them. "How'd it go?"

Harry shrugged. "It was fine. Can't say I got much done, but it was interesting." he shook his head and looked at Connie. "You ran off pretty fast after class. What did Professor McGonagall want with you?"

Before she could open her mouth to respond, Ron shoved a finger in her direction. "She had a meeting with Dumbledore." he proclaimed. "And wouldn't say a bleeding thing about it until you were here."

Harry's eyes lit up. "Really? Was it about the Firebolt? What'd he say?"

God, he was already getting anxious and she hadn't said anything yet. Constance held up her hands to get him to calm down. "Yes, it was about the broom." she told him. "I have some great news, some not so good news, and some news that you're probably not going to like. Which would you prefer to hear first?"

The two boys looked at each other. "Give me the great news first." Harry decided. "I've had enough bad news for one day, so that can wait."

She figured as much. Connie clasped her hands in her lap and took a deep breath. "Okay, the great news is that I told Dumbledore about me checking out the broom last night. I explained everything, and he agreed that if I didn't find anything, then it was probably fine. He said he would take over the more probing examinations himself and that when you got the broom back, it would definately be able to fly and do everything it's supposed to."

Harry's posture immediately righted and he gave her a wide, exhuberant grin. "That's awesome!" he exclaimed, looking like he wanted to jump up and do a happy dance. "You're amazing, Connie!" he leaned forward to give her a tight hug in thanks, but went still and pulled back. "Wait, so what's the bad news?"

Constance shook her head. "I never said I had bad news." she corrected. "Just 'not so good' news and news that you probably weren't going to like." She gave him a look and waited for him to sit back down. "The part that's not so good is that Dumbledore has to let the teachers do some kind of testing on the broom so they'll be satisfied that it's safe. He's going to make sure no one does anything that will mess up the magic that supposed to be there, but he couldn't tell me how long it would take."

"Meaning we have no idea when Harry gets the Firebolt back." Ron rephrased with a frown.

"That's right." she confirmed.

Harry's jubilant expression went down several notches and he huffed unhappily. Connie heard him swear faintly under his breath. "I suppose as long as I get it back in one piece, I can't complain too much." he said at last. "I just want to make sure it works."

"It will work, Harry." she told him, then sucked in a deep breath in preparation for the inevitable. "Now for the part you probably aren't going to like, but it needs to be done. I want you, and you," she said, turning to look at Ron. "To apologize to Hermione for making arses of yourselves."

"Apologize?" Ron demanded. "What the bloody hell for? This whole mess is her fault!"

Harry crossed his arms over his chest with a scowl. "No one would have taken my broom away in the first place if she hadn't snitched about it."

Connie had heard enough of their stupidity and wasn't going to put up with it anymore. "Will you two stop and listen to yourselves?" she exclaimed. "We're talking about a broomstick here! Okay, so it's an expensive, amazing, professional grade broom that not many people have, but it's still just a broom. It showed up under incredibly strange circumstances, and if you hadn't roped me into looking at it, I would have reported it myself." She took a breath and sighed. "Maybe she didn't do it in the best way, but... Hermione's just lost the two people she loved most in the world. Can you really fault her for not wanting to risk losing someone else?"

Apparently Harry and Ron hadn't thought about it that way because they both immediately simpered down and grew quiet. Harry coughed and scratched the back of his head uncomfortably.

"When you put it that way, maybe I... overreacted a little." he muttered.

The girl arched a brow at him. "I'd say it was a bit more than 'a little'." she said with a sniff. She noticed that Ron still had that upset look on his face and poked him in the ribs. "Well?" she prodded.

He huffed at her. "Well, what?"

Constance narrowed her eyes warningly. "I will hurt you, Ronald Weasley."

For a moment the threat had no effect, but when she raised her hand in preparation to give him a solid smack on the back of the head, Ron quickly ducked and scooted several inches away from her.

"Okay, okay!" he exclaimed. "I'll apologize! Merlin, a bloke can't even be a little miffed without you going mental about it!"

Harry's lips pressed together like he was trying not to show how amusing he found the scene. Connie was satisfied that they would talk to Hermione whenever she got back. But the girl did have a habit of losing track of time when she was working on something intently, so there was no way to tell when that would be. In the meantime, their conversation turned to other matters.

"So what does Lupin have you doing then?" Ron asked Harry. "Did he just teach you the spell and have you practice or something?"

The boy shook his head in response. "It was a bit more complicated than that, actually." he said. "Do you remember that boggart he showed us in class?" he waited for them both to nod, then went on. "He still has it locked up in a trunk. He taught me the patronus charm and once he thought I had the pronunciation down, he opened the trunk and let it out to give me something to aim at. Lupin said a real dementor would be worse, but..." he shivered in remembrance. "That boggart was still pretty bad."

Constance frowned. "You passed out again, didn't you?" she asked gently.

Harry obviously didn't like the idea of the dementors affecting him so strongly, but he slowly nodded. "The first time, I did." he confirmed. "I managed to conjure up this... odd looking white mist the second time I tried, so I guess that's something." he shrugged. "Lupin said a properly formed patronus takes the form of an animal - but you have to be thinking of a powerful, happy memory to do it. It's just hard to think of things like that when you've got a dementor towering over you."

She could imagine. But the patronus charm was supposed to be advanced magic, so the fact that he was able to produce something on the second attempt was impressive. Even that mist he spoke of could be used as a shield.

"It sounds like you made progress though." she pointed out.

Harry nodded with a small, proud looking smile. "Yeah, I wasn't expecting it to work, and Lupin was really happy about it. We stopped after the second round." his face shifted into a sheepish expression. "He snuck in a butterbeer to let me try it, and I sort of felt bad about having to make out like I'd never had one before."

Ron's mouth fell open. "Lucky sot!" he exclaimed, then began muttering about how they'd have to wait for the next Hogsmeade weekend to get some - which wouldn't be for another couple of weeks.

"Sorry." Harry told him. "It's not like I asked him for it." the boy then paused thoughtfully, as if remembering something he found curious. "Hey, Connie, you're good at Potions. Could you tell what something is by looking?"

Constance blinked at him in surprise. What sort of odd question was that? "It depends." she replied. "If a potion has a distinctive color and texture, you might be able to identify it by sight. But there are dozens of potions out there that look similiar, so it's better to rely on a combination of appearance and smell." she sat back a bit to peer at him. "Why?"

"Well..." the boy began hestitantly. He looked around the room for a moment, then shifted to the edge of his seat and leaned forward, gesturing for them to scoot closer as well. "Maybe it's nothing, but while I was with Professor Lupin, Snape came in and gave him this weird looking potion I'd never seen before. It was this... sick looking green color and it smelled like rotten eggs and cabbage that had been left in a dumpster for a week."

"Ugh!" Ron said, wincing like he had a foul taste in his mouth. "That sounds nasty. Lupin didn't drink it, did he? If the greasy git tried to give me something, I wouldn't dare put it in my mouth."

"Yeah, he drank it." Harry reported. It looked like he found the thought nauseating as well. "I tried asking, but they both said it was medicine."

"Right..." Ron said. It was clear from his tone he didn't believe a word of it. "Medicine. Snape hates Lupin, so for all we know he could have been giving him poison!"

Constance huffed at the idea and rolled her eyes. The concoction Harry described sounded like the wolfsbane potion - which she knew Snape had been tasked with brewing to help ease Professor Lupin's transformations. But even if she couldn't reveal what it was, she wasn't about to let them sit there and come up with wild stories about Snape trying to kill the man.

"Please, Ron." she said. "I couldn't tell you what that potion was, but I'm sure Snape wasn't trying to poison him."

"If you can't tell what it was, then how do you know?" Harry challenged.

"Because it isn't logical, Harry." she replied firmly. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave the pair of them a look. "Most poisons are clear and are designed have a pleasant taste or no taste at all. If you wanted to poison someone, the stupidest thing in the world would be to give them something that looks or tastes bad because it increases the chances of them spitting it right back out. And Snape is the Potions Master, so if someone - especially a teacher he doesn't get on well with - wound up dead from drinking a potion, it could quickly be traced back to him. Think whatever you want about the man, but he's not an idiot."

Harry studied her as he turned over all the information she'd just given him. "Okay, fine." he conceded. "But if Lupin is sick, why doesn't he just get medicine from Madam Pomfrey? She's the medi-witch here."

That was a question that probed a little too deeply for her tastes. Constance hesistated and tried to come up with something appropriate that would satisfy their curiosity without giving too much away.

"Maybe... maybe Lupin has some sort of condition that requires special potions that Madam Pomfrey wouldn't have on hand or doesn't have the training to make." she offered.

Both boys sat back, their brows furrowed with thought. "Huh." Ron said. "That would make sense..." he stopped and shook his head. "That's awful, that is. You don't think Lupin has something bad wrong with him, do you? He's one of the best teachers we've ever had!"

Harry frowned. "Don't know." he replied. "I hope not. But he does miss class a lot and he always looks terrible after..."

"Yeah, and he's way too thin." Ron added with an unhappy nod. "Whatever it is has to be rough if it makes him look like the life's been sucked out of him like that."

There was a moment of silence where they just sat and looked at each other. From the way they were talking, it sounded like the boys were pondering over whether Lupin might have a terrible, life threatening illness or something. Perhaps it was normal to wonder, but they didn't need to dwell on it. They had no idea how close they were getting.

"Well, no matter what it is, I'm sure Lupin wouldn't appreciate anyone pointing it out." Constance said resolutely, growing uncomfortable with the subject. "He's obviously managing it the best he can."

Harry and Ron were only concerned about what was going on with the man they had a great deal of respect for, but they both agreed to leave it alone. Constance was beginning to feel better about how they would take the news that their favorite teacher was a werewolf, but she still didn't want to be the one to bring it out in the open.