Constantine looked at his father as he spoke and noted to himself the structure, the strength he saw in his father. It was as clear then as it was when Constantine was a child, albeit perhaps a bit less frightful than his childhood mind might have had made him out to be. What child doesn’t fancy their parents are killers? He’s still dad, is he not? Right, that part wasn’t a game.
Constantine chuckled as they walked “I suppose. There are quite a few complaints about Professor Umbridge’s detentions, as to the quill she makes students use. However, the quill I’m to write lines with is really quite delightful.” A devious smirk passed his lips as he nodded. “What did they make you do for detention?” Constantine glanced up at his father, his curious eyes held fast upon him.