When I strolled out, Winter was perched on one end of the sofa while Brutus was on the other with his hackles raised. They appeared to be having some kind of standoff. ‘I don’t think your familiar likes me,’ Winter commented.

I bit back a retort about my cat’s good taste in favour of keeping the peace. I could be restrained if the situation called for it. ‘Brutus,’ I said, ‘go and check out Mrs Burridge for me.’

Brutus gave me a look that suggested his plans for the day involved curling up in a corner and snoozing; spying on the old lady upstairs, who insisted on dabbling in runes and herbs even though she didn’t have a whisper of power inside her, was a waste of his time. Fortunately, on this occasion he elected not to show me up. He got up, stretched and wandered off.

I put my hands on my hips and eyed Winter. ‘Well?’ I asked. ‘Are we going? I’ve got things to do, so the faster we get this sorted out the better.’ I neglected to tell him that those things included lying on the sofa, eating a family-size bag of salt-and-vinegar crisps followed by copious amounts of chocolate, and occasionally reaching for the remote control.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Is that what you’re wearing?’

I gave him a twirl. ‘Why yes, it is.’ Just because he was wearing an immaculate suit that was probably tailored to fit him and him alone, didn’t mean the rest of us had to dress like we were meeting the Queen.

He sighed heavily. ‘Fine. Let’s get a move on.’

I led the way, taking him down the corridor to the lift. I pressed the button to call it and he stared at me in astonishment. ‘The stairs will be faster.’

‘I’ve hurt my ankle. I need to avoid strenuous exercise.’

‘You’re fine.’

‘You don’t know that.’

Exasperation filled his eyes. ‘I’m an Adeptus Exemptus. You’re in perfect physical condition.’

I brightened. ‘Do you think so?’

Winter’s mouth tightened fractionally. ‘What I mean is that you are not in pain and you are suffering from no health defects beyond an incredible lack of fitness. You could also lose some weight.’

Oh, tell me that he did not just go there. ‘Lose weight?’

Winter belatedly realised the danger he was in. ‘If you wish to achieve the sort of peak physical condition required of a Second Level witch, it might be prudent. Our work can involve a lot of running and considerable effort.’

Screw that. ‘And what work is that exactly?’ I enquired, my tone dripping with ice.

‘Arcane Branch, of course.’

I rolled my eyes. Of course. ‘Well, it’s lucky that I’m neither Second Level nor working with you on anything other than extricating myself from this ridiculous situation,’ I said. Then I crossed my arms and made it clear I had nothing more to say to him.

***

The Order headquarters are nestled between Christchurch Cathedral and Merton College. They like to point out on a regular basis that they’ve been there far longer than the university and that their members possess skills which the typical Oxford student could only dream of. The truth is that the Order simply likes to keep an eye on their academic counterparts and ensure they don’t get too uppity. The Order enjoys a venerable status but in this day and age they know it could be whipped away in favour of the latest breakthrough in bioscience or chemical engineering or whatever.