Some people did not like to go to work. Some people did not like to wake up early and leave the comfort of their homes and beds. Some people hated dealing with meetings, coworkers, and bosses.

John Questus, however, was not one of those people.

Well, maybe he'd been that way at Hogwarts. But as an Auror, John Questus adored his job. He loved every single aspect of it, and walking to work in the morning was one of his favorite parts. He was well aware that people sometimes stared at him, wondering where he worked and where he was going. He was well aware that many of them already knew (after all, he was quite well-known). He was also well aware that Aurors were few and far between—after all, it took quite the qualified person to make a good Auror. And he was delightfully aware that he was the best Auror in the department, and most people at the Ministry knew it. Yes, those were the facts, and Questus liked those particular facts. They made him feel very special and important, and those were his very favorite things to feel.

When Questus showed up at the Auror Department after a full year of being sacked, he saw a couple familiar faces right off the bat. He sighed contentedly. "Good to be back," he said. A few people made faces as they noticed him. Questus was well-known, but he was not very popular (a fact that was just fine with him). "Gardner, Crawford, Simmons," he said, relishing in the thrill of speaking those names once again. "How are things?"

"You're back?" said Lauren Gardner. "I didn't think you would be. Didn't Orion Black get you sacked himself?"

"Yes, but Orion Black is a damn idiot who doesn't know what he's doing."

Marquis Simmons grinned. "Best keep that opinion under wraps this time, eh? Department's been peaceful without you, Questus. Pity you're back."

"Watch it, Simmons. I could still best you in a duel, both hands tied behind my back. What have I missed?"

"New recruit. Her name's Bethany." Simmons gestured to a petite, middle-aged woman with brown hair. She waved at Questus, and Questus rolled his eyes. "Also, Geoffrey is dead. Killed by a nasty Death Eater just south of Aberdeen. It was tragic. His funeral was..."

"Don't care," interrupted Questus. "Oi, new recruit. You think you have what it takes?"

The new recruit smiled. She had blue eyes, and her brown hair was very straight and cut down to her chin. "I have a name, you know," she said.

"Very funny. You know, Death Eaters aren't going to think you're cute and let you live." Questus turned to Gardner with a shrug. "She'll die within the year, I'm sure of it." Then he turned back to the new recruit, ignoring Gardner's disapproving expression. "What's your surname?" he asked, because he wasn't about to use this woman's first name. Not now. Not ever.

"Webb," she said. "And I think it's pretty ridiculous of you to say that you don't think I'll last long—not when you got yourself sacked for the stupidest reason."

"I was an Auror for about thirty years before that."

"Could have been sixty."

"I'm back, so it surely will be. You, on the other hand, won't last two weeks."

"Already did."

"You won't last two more."

"I'll last at least a year."

"Bet you a Galleon."

"I can't pay you if I'm dead."

"Then you'll die indebted to me. I'd be happy with that."

"Fine."

They shook on it, eyes locked. A brief, unspoken battle of wits ensued. Questus set his jaw, and she did the same.

Suddenly, Simmons clapped Questus on the back, loudly saying, "Where have you been, then?"

Questus made a face and let go of Webb's hand. "Don't touch me, Simmons. I've been teaching at Hogwarts, actually. Defense Against the Dark Arts. Was invited back here at the end of the year—as soon as they realized that Black was an idiot—and I quit the Hogwarts job sooner than you can say 'Dumbledore'."

Crawford smirked. "I never pegged you as the type of person with the patience to teach."

"I'm not. No idea why the hell Dumbledore sought me out. Teaching was terrible. I tell you, Crawford... kids are stupid. But I gave good lectures, I think. And some of the students were all right." Questus thought of Lupin. "But still bloody annoying. I'm glad to be done teaching."

"And how's your duelling?" Gardner mocked. "Are you out-of-practice now?"

"Let's find out." Questus pulled out his wand and pointed it at Gardner. "Ready?"

"Of course," she said, pulling out her own wand with a signature swish.

The duel was fast, furious, and fifteen minutes long. Questus reckoned that he could have beaten her sooner than he did, but he was enjoying the duel so much that he didn't want it to end. He couldn't imagine doing this with Lupin, who was so hesitant and slow that all of their duels bored Questus half to death. What was a man to do? Questus had always tried to spar with Dumbledore, but Dumbledore constantly refused. A duel like this, with someone experienced and active and energetic, hadn't happened in what seemed like ten years, and Questus was enjoying it more than he enjoyed life itself.

He finally Disarmed Gardner, and she scowled at him. "That was exhilarating," said Questus, grinning from ear to ear. "Thank you, Gardner."

"Yeah, sure."

With that, Questus collapsed into a chair and stared at the all-too-familiar wall. There was the scorch mark from when a practice duel with Crawford had gotten a little too out-of-hand. There was the dent from when Zander had gotten angry enough to punch it (he'd died in an explosion when Questus was thirty-two. Pity. The muscles on that man were insane, and the Aurors had refused to let the dent be fixed out of pure amazement). There was the stain from when Questus had spilled a deadly, unidentifiable potion on the floor that he'd collected on the field. He'd been twenty-four, and he'd gotten in huge trouble for that.

Indeed, this place was more familiar than Questus' own childhood home, and it was good to be back.

Questus' first mission was that very night, and being out on the field was just as wonderful as he remembered. He was raiding a warehouse suspected of hosting Dark activity with two other Aurors. They trekked through the forest for what seemed like ages before finally arriving, and Questus naturally took charge, just as he always had. "Take a left," he commanded, and they all did so.

"Hang on," said Webb. "Why, exactly, are you the one giving orders? You just joined today."

"Wrong. I was an Auror for thirty-odd years before I was sacked, remember? I know exactly what I'm doing."

"A lot has changed in a year," pressed Webb. "There's a war brewing, you know. Things are changing quickly."

"Would you like to duel me for the position? I know what I'm doing, Webb."

"I think I'll do that," said Webb, directing her wand towards Questus.

They stared. Questus' wand was still in his pocket, and he dared Webb to cast a spell with his eyes. The unspoken battle of wits continued.

"Now's not a good time," hissed David Farthing, looking between them nervously.

"Relax, Farthing; it'll only take a second." In one smooth moment, Questus pulled out his wand and flicked a nonverbal Expelliarmus at Webb on the second syllable of "only". her wand fell out of her hand and onto the mossy forest floor with a thumping noise. "See?" said Questus, lithely twirling his wand between his fingers. "I know what I'm doing, Webb."

Webb looked impressed, which was only natural. "That was good," she said. "I didn't really expect to beat you, but I did want to know that your know-it-all attitude was merited."

"I was a teacher. It'll take a while for the know-it-all attitude to wear off."

"It never wears off, and he was like that before he became a teacher," said Farthing.

"Ah," said Questus. "You caught me."

Webb snorted in a very unladylike fashion and picked up her wand. "Well, the. Are we almost there, all-knowing one?"

"Right ahead. Here we are."

And indeed, right before them stood a massive warehouse. Well, warehouse was too kind a word, so Questus searched for another proper descriptor. Quaint was too kind. So was rickety. So was derelict. The only word that fit, really... was rubbish. The warehouse was barely a house; it was a barely-standing pile of rotting wood and termites. The Aurors stared for a moment, and Questus could nearly feel the cogs in his colleagues' heads turning. Ah, to be surrounded with people nearly as intelligent as he was. It was another aspect of Ministry work that he'd missed while at Hogwarts.

"On my mark," Questus ordered. "I'll go first, of course. Entering in three, two..."

"Why you?" asked Webb.

"I'm sorry. Would you like to risk setting off any lethal curses by going first?"

"Sure."

"Wrong answer. No, you would not. I'm going first." He pointed his wand toward the sad excuse for a door, and it opened with a small, miserable creaking noise. "Entering in three, two, one," he said, and then he stepped onto the floor of the building. Dust clouded around his feet, and the floor felt almost squishy, which was odd... but Questus wasn't dead yet. He waited another moment. Nothing happened, so he motioned for the other Aurors to follow.

It was dark inside the warehouse. It sounded empty. It felt empty. It was the type of warehouse that felt as empty as space, and it was the type of emptiness that crowded one's brain and prickled at one's toes. But Questus was a reasonable man, and he knew that mere feelings were not to be trusted. This building felt empty, but was it really and truly empty? If only Lupin were here, Questus thought in spite of himself. He'd know.

Suddenly, light flooded the warehouse. Questus' head whirled toward Webb, who was holding a luminous wand. "Gryffindor, were you?" he hissed. "You'll get us killed. Curses can trigger when light—"

"Hufflepuff, actually—" said Webb, but she didn't have time to say anything else before dust started swirling around her feet. "That's not normal," she said.

"Damn right it's not normal. That light of yours just set something off, Miss Hufflepuff. Hopefully, it's a harmless jinx instead of a full-blown curse, but... shut off the light, Webb. Maybe it'll go away."

Webb's breathing came short and fast, but she held her confidence. "Are you sure?"

"Obviously. Haven't I already proven that I know what I'm doing? Say it. Incantation's 'Nox', in case your stupid enough to have forgotten such a simple spell."

"Nox," said Webb, giving Questus a dirty look.

Then there was a swooshing noise, and then the sound of Webb's breathing disappeared.

"Webb?" shouted Questus. No response. "Fiddlesticks," he muttered. Fiddlesticks? What were fiddlesticks? Where had he learnt that phrase? Must've been Lupin. Questus lit up his wand and cast it at the walls, but there was no sign of Webb anywhere. "Farthing, Heat-Detection Charm," he commanded. Dust started swirling around Questus' feet, but it wasn't normal dust... no, Questus recognized the signs of a spell. Whatever had happened to Webb was about to happen to him. "Now!" he said, because Farthing wasn't moving nearly quickly enough for him.

"There's nothing here," said Farthing after a moment.

"Good. That means she isn't dead, because her body would still be warm. She's been taken out of the warehouse. So I suppose she still could be dead, but at least she'd not dead here."

"Stop rambling, Questus," said Simmons. "Move out on three. One... two... three."

Farthing all but ran out of the warehouse, and Questus stepped outdoors slowly, keeping an eye on the dust. It dissipated as soon as he left the warehouse, which was a good sign. "Can't be a particularly powerful curse if it's constrained to the walls of the house," he said. "Means she probably isn't dead at all." He heard Farthing trying to cast another Heat-Detection Charm and rolled his eyes. "Come now, Farthing. You'll detect a squirrel or something. You know as well as I do that those don't spells work outdoors—there's too much life out here. We'll have to search the old-fashioned way."

"Which is?"

Questus cupped his hands around his mouth. "WEBB!" he bellowed. "WHERE ARE YOU?"

No response.

"She could be unconscious," said Questus thoughtfully. "Or in a different country. Or dead, I suppose, but I think it's very unlikely. Follow my lead, Farthing."

It was perfect searching-weather, Questus couldn't help thinking. He always prided himself in his extraordinary calm in the face of extraordinary danger: it was especially useful in times like these, when the weather was nice enough that Questus wanted to enjoy the serene breeze and also the thrill of the chase. He could multitask, all right. Thus Questus tramped over leaves, casting beams of light towards anything that rustled... but Webb was nowhere to be found. "I hope she's okay," said Farthing.

"Yeah, me too." Questus sighed. "It'd be a shame if we had to report her missing. After all, it's my first day back on the job, and a missing co-worker would really taint my reputation..."

"Must you always be so insensitive?"

"We're Aurors. Being sensitive is what gets people killed. Now, are you searching? You don't look like you're searching." Farthing sighed and cast Lumos, and Questus grinned. "That's better. WEBB!"

"You're going to attract Dark wizards with all that shouting."

"Yes, Farthing, that is rather the point. Catching Dark wizards is my job, and I can't catch them if I don't attract them somehow. WEBB!"

Questus thought about Lupin once again. The job would be so much easier with his bloodhound-worthy sense of smell and hearing. If only werewolves could be Aurors... it would be so ridiculously helpful. Alas, Orion Black was stupid, and so was the rest of the world. "WEBB!" Questus called again.

There was a rustling to his left, and Questus pointed his wand towards the rustling. As he did so, the hooded face of a wizard was illuminated... and the wizard in question was holding a very unconscious Webb. "Ah, I see," said Questus pensively. "The spell was intended to fling the victim out of the largest window after a certain amount of time passed. Webb fell, was knocked unconscious, and then you were waiting where you knew the trajectory of the spell would land the victim, eh? Clever plan. What do you intend to do with her? Torture? Experimentation? You should cut her hair while you're at it. That hairstyle looks dumb on her."

The Dark wizard dropped Webb and raised his wand.

"Don't talk, do you?" said Questus, twirling his wand between his index finger and thumb. "Come on, then. I'm itching for a proper duel."

"Crucio," said the Dark wizard.

Questus deflected it easily. "Verbal spells and skipping straight to Unforgivables? You're an amateur, aren't you? Not to worry; I'll go easy on you."

"Avada Kedavra!"

Questus stepped out of the way. "Nice weather we're having."

"Stupefy!"

"You know, I'd invite you to tea at my place, but..."

"Expelliarmus—"

"I don't have a place at the moment, and also—"

"Imperio!"

"You seem to be a little—Incarcerous—tied up at the moment." Questus examined the Dark wizard, who was now on the ground, and wrapped up in strong ropes. "Petrificus Totalus," Questus said, just for good measure. "I haven't had an all-verbal duel in a long while. That was quite entertaining. Farthing, you take him back to the Ministry for questioning. I'll tend to Webb."

Farthing nodded and Apparated away with the Dark wizard; Questus, meanwhile, grabbed onto the unconscious Webb and did the same.

All in all, it had been a pretty successful first mission.

Questus approached Simmons at the end of the day. "Oi! Simmons. Old living arrangements still on?"

"Yes," said Simmons. "Crawford and I are still roommates. Same flat and everything. I'm assuming you want to move in again?"

"That would be nice, yes. I'm staying in a hotel for the time being, but it's Muggle. Can't do magic in front of anyone. You wouldn't mind, eh?"

"I wouldn't mind. Crawford... well, he'll pretend that he minds, but he'll be okay." Simmons sighed. "You're a right git, you know."

"I know."

"And it was kind of nice without you."

"I know."

"But we've lived together for thirty years and, at this point, I think we know how to handle you better than anyone."

"Wonderful. I'll be there as soon as I finish packing. Is my old room still...?"

"Yes, we left your room well alone. I'll be perfectly frank, Questus: we knew that the Auror department was going to take you back. Orion Black has plenty of power, but not THAT much. You're full of yourself, but you're a good Auror, and we need you."

"About time someone admitted it," said Questus, grinning widely. "Cheers, Simmons."

Questus didn't bother knocking; he just Apparated directly into the sitting room. Crawford, who was on the couch, jumped. "Questus! Have you no manners? You can't Apparate directly into someone's home—"

"I can when it's my home."

"You're moving back in?" groaned Crawford. "Oh, no. Simmons, tell him that he can't move back in."

"Don't like it any more than you do," said Simmons, who had Apparated only a few moments after Questus. "But you have to admit that he helped us out of a few tight spots back in the day. We can't just leave him alone if he wants to move back in. It would be unsportsmanlike."

Questus nodded and began rearranging some of the frames on the wall to suit his taste. "I saved your life no less than six times, Crawford. Be a bit more grateful, will you?"

Crawford groaned. "Well, you're on dishes duty since you're new."

"I am not new! I've been gone less than a year!"

"Sorry, mate, majority rules," said Simmons, shrugging unapologetically.

Questus rolled his eyes, knowing full well that they planned on ganging up on him for the unforeseeable future. They usually did. "Fine," he said. "Let me unpack first."

"IF YOU PUT THAT DISGUSTING GREEN LAMP ANYWHERE NEAR THE KITCHEN, I SWEAR I'LL—"

Questus grinned and placed the green lamp in the kitchen. "There. That looks like a good spot, don't you agree?"

Crawford, Simmons, and Questus then engaged in a lighthearted duel that ended with bunny ears sprouting from Crawford's head and a pumpkin encasing Simmons'. Questus would never admit to having friends, but his roommates were mildly fun to be around, and he'd almost missed them.

Almost.

Questus got stuck with Webb again for their next mission. He hadn't wanted to work with her again—after all, she'd nearly gotten them killed last time—but he supposed that she needed the most help (and, after all, he was the best Auror in the department and therefore the most qualified to help her). They were on a stakeout at the moment, and Webb's breathing was terrifically loud as they crouched behind a couple of bushes and waited for anything of interest. "Breathe a bit more quietly, please," Questus hissed.

"Do you want me to stop breathing, then?" Webb fired back.

"Actually, yeah. That might be nice."

"Then you'll win your bet, won't you?"

"Indeed. You'll die indebted to me, and the Auror department will be a lot more peaceful."

"Truly a win-win."

"I like to think so, yes."

"You're going to feel silly when I'm still working for the Ministry in my eighties."

"I support that decision. I hear they need more receptionists."

She hit him. "Misogynist prat," she accused.

"I'm not a misogynist. I encouraged Simmons to be a receptionist three years ago. Has nothing to do with gender."

"Uh-huh."

Suddenly, there was a rustling noise. Both Questus and Webb whirled around, but nothing was there. "Your talking was too loud," said Questus angrily. "You're going to get us killed—for real this time."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. You were talking more loudly than I was. Admit it."

Webb lowered her voice. "Okay, fine. I'm sorry."

"Good."

Silence. Questus glanced at the moon: a crescent hidden behind the clouds, shining through in beams of silver.

"I didn't do it on purpose last time, you know," Webb suddenly said. "Back in the warehouse, I mean."

Questus glared. "I know, but it was still your fault."

"I did nothing wrong."

"You should have followed my lead. It's basic knowledge that you either cast Lumos before entering a building or you don't cast it at all. If you had entered the building with a Lumos charm, then you wouldn't have been in the very center of it when you set off the spell. You could have calmly stepped back out of the building, and then everything would have been fine..."

"I could have ran out of the building right then and there, but you told me to shut off my light!"

"Sudden movements are almost never a good idea, and shutting off a light really does help in many cases. I cast the spell by the entryway, and I was fine."

"But—!"

"Oh, I don't know why I'm even bothering to argue. I have about thirty years' worth experience on you."

"Doesn't mean you're automatically right."

"In this case, it does. Because I am right. Now stop talking."

They continued to crouch behind the bushes. There was no noise—save Webb's annoying breathing—for about twenty minutes... and then a large fireball shot towards them. Questus' reflexes were brilliant, and he cast a Shield Charm that just barely warded off the fireball. Waves of heat were visible in the chilly air, Questus smelled smoke, and Webb looked startled. "What was that?" she asked.

"Dragon," Questus said. "Chinese Fireball, to be exact. And I reckon it knows we're here."

"They're not native to Britain, Chinese Fireballs."

"Really? Did the name Chinese give it away?" Questus rolled his eyes. "But yes, that's true. That means someone brought it here. And someone's probably controlling it somehow. Dark wizards, Webb. Do try to keep up." Oh, where were Lupin's tracking abilities when Questus needed them? He wished he'd never met Lupin; he was far too jealous of his heightened senses. "Stop breathing for a second," he instructed, hoping he'd hear the flapping of beating dragon wings.

Webb didn't even make a snarky comment; she just held her breath for a minute and a half, which was vaguely impressive. "I don't hear anything," said Questus, "which means that it's probably gone."

He'd spoken too soon. Another fireball came rushing towards them at the speed of light, and this one came even closer to hitting them before Questus blocked it. "It definitely knows we're here," said Questus slowly.

"What do we do?"

"Well, we might as well stand up. No use in hiding anymore." He jumped into a standing position and scanned the skies. There it was: an orange blur high in the sky that was circling Questus and Webb. "Stand up, Webb," Questus urged. "You're an Auror, not a damsel in distress that I have to protect."

"Well, I know that, but my aim is very bad. Long-distance isn't really my thing."

"What is your thing, then?" shouted Questus, now shooting Stunning spells into the sky. They weren't likely to take down the dragon, but they could slow it down. "You're not good at sneaking, staking out, common sense, or duelling. What are you good at? Is it anything that's helpful? Or are they just letting anyone into the Auror Department now that there's a war?!"

"I'm a good spy!" Webb shouted back. "I'm good at being undercover! That's my strength, but I'm not bad at any of those other things! I passed Auror training just as you did! I've just... never fought a dragon before!"

"Then GET UP AND LEARN! Merlin's pants, woman! Didn't you think of warning me before—" Questus deflected another fireball that nearly singed his hair— "before we were in the thick of it? Help me out! Besides, if you passed Auror training, then you've got to be good in combat!"

Webb obeyed, but none of their spells hit the dragon. "We're going to have to bait it somehow," said Questus. "Or at least force it to recognize that its fireballs aren't going to hit us no matter what it tries. We have to get it close range. Come on. Those fireballs look hot, but they're actually very susceptible to water. They dissolve into smoke immediately. There's a lake a quarter of a mile away."

"I can't swim!" said Webb, terrified.

"SERIOUSLY?! You acted so confident on our last mission, but you can't do ANYTHING!"

"I wanted to make a good impression! And I really am confident most of the time, it's just... I don't know!"

"A good impression? On me? Webb, I don't like anyone! That's sort of my thing!"

"Well, I thought—" Another fireball came racing towards them, and Webb actually helped Questus deflect it this time. "I thought that—"

"It doesn't matter what you thought! Look, I don't care if you can't swim. It doesn't even matter. I'll figure something out. Follow me." They walked the quarter-mile to the lake, deflecting every fireball that came at them. The dragon was persistent, however, and continued to target them from the air. "Stupid dragon," muttered Questus. "Those fireballs aren't working, are they? Take a hint."

Finally, finally, they arrived at the lake. "I'm sorry," started Webb, but Questus cut her off.

"Doesn't matter, and it's not a good time. I want you to keep deflecting any fireballs, all right? I'm going to target the dragon from here. Ready? I'm taking my shield down in three... two..." Questus pointed his wand towards the water and cast a powerful levitation charm. The water swirled up out of the lake—gallons upon gallons of it—and Questus focused on shaping it into a shield. Webb continued to deflect fireballs, which was the only helpful thing she'd done all evening.

"Now it sees that we're totally protected, so it might come closer if we're lucky," huffed Questus. "Hopefully quickly. I'm not sure how much longer I can hold this. The second it comes close, we shoot it with a combined Conjunctivitis, okay?"

"Okay," said Webb.

The dragon came closer... closer... closer... Questus could see its blurry figure through the shield of water. "Now?" whispered Webb.

"No, not yet." Questus waited a few more moments. "Okay. On my mark. Three... two..." He let the water drop back into the lake. "Conjunctivus!" he shouted, and Webb did the same. The dragon stumbled backwards, now on all fours. "Stupefy on three. One, two... Stupefy!" The dragon stumbled again, and then it fell with an earth-shattering smash.

"Is it unconscious?" asked Webb, tucking her hair behind her ears.

"Yes, but probably not for long. Again. Three, two... Stupefy. One more time. Stupefy... yes, that should do it. Apparate to the Ministry and tell them to call a dragon handler—quickly! I'll stay here and make sure it stays unconscious."

Webb granted him a curt nod (obviously trying to act professional) and Apparated away. Questus kept his wand trained at the Chinese Fireball for seven minutes (he counted), and then Webb returned. "They're on their way," she said. "Only about ten minutes until they arrive."

"Good."

"Questus, I'm sorry. I could have helped more, but I was distracted."

"You trained for years, Webb, so I don't buy that. You're just not a very good Auror; that's all there is to it. I'm amazed they let you into the profession. Did you have to bribe someone?"

"No! I have strengths. I'm good at what I do."

"Aurors have to be skilled in a lot of areas that you seem to be lacking in, so you can't fool me. Turns out that I'm actually an Auror myself, so I know these things. Who would have guessed? Combat is a huge part of the job..."

"And I handled it fine, eventually! I was just a little taken aback. I did pass training, believe it or not. I was just distracted."

"Distracted? You don't know how this job works!" Questus kept his wand on the dragon, but he turned to face Webb. "Look, I know that something's going on. The Ministry gave you this job for a reason, and it wasn't because you were properly trained. Something's wrong with you. Or special about you. Want to tell me what it is?"

There was a pause, and then Webb huffed in an imitation of a laugh. "Okay, you caught me. Sort of. I can't tell you exactly what's going on, but you're correct. Something's wrong with me. But I really am an Auror, and I didn't bribe anyone. I passed training."

Two minutes passed. The dragon did not stir.

"Are you really a decent spy?"

"Yes, but I'm not spying on the Aurors. I swear. The Minister herself will vouch for me. I am an Auror."

"Good. I don't trust you, but I trust her—even though some of her policies are rubbish."

"Like what?"

"Like... magical creature control. Werewolves in particular. She keeps implementing more and more laws directed towards the Registered werewolves, even though it's the Unregistered ones that are the problem." Questus shrugged. "But it doesn't matter much. I'd say that even Registered werewolves deserve all they get. They can all be dangerous; there's no denying that. But it is... a rather unfortunate way of going about things."

"That's a good point," said Webb thoughtfully.

Questus didn't want to talk of the subject any further. He kicked a rock towards the dragon, but it still didn't stir. "Someone set the dragon on us," he pointed out. "Its nails are clipped, see? It's trained. Maybe even totally domesticated."

Webb didn't seem to be listening. "Thanks for saving me," she said.

"It's my job, though it's a shame that I have to do it for my coworkers so often. Useless Aurors are an horribly annoying oxymoron. I hope that whatever's wrong with you works itself out. It had better."

Webb smiled. "Me, too," she said.

AN: Action? In MY story? Ridiculous!