Charlie's Angels

Charlie's Angels

Chapter One: Independent Women

The man looked out of the triple-glazed, sound and bulletproof window at the giant contraption facing him and shook his head. The muggles had really gone to town on this one; they had literally reinvented the wheel. "It's called the Millennium Eye," he explained to the client sitting patiently across from his desk. "The idea being that when you're up at the top you can see the whole of London." He turned back to face him. "Not that they can see much of it on a day like this." The sky outside was a dull wash of greys.

"But they can't see the whole of London anyway?" asked the client, the intonation in his American accent revealing his surprise.

The man laughed and eased the tension between them somewhat. "Oh no," he smiled. "The Ministry has got that sorted. They can't see the entrance to Diagon, Knock-turn or Eventu - or even the Leaky Cauldron."

"And here...?"

"It's not even visible to wizards - unless they happen to work here."

The American nodded his approval. "Well, to business."

A nod was given in agreement. "I assume it's really the girls you want?"

The American looked sheepish. "Mainly, yes, although we do understand that they haven't been in the business long."

"They trained for six months and they've only been fighting for three years but they're very efficient. If you care to look at their previous cases..."

The American dismissed this with a wave of his hand. "No, no that won't be necessary. We have other ways of knowing."

The man swallowed a snigger as he thought of the American stereotypical character's line; we have ways of making you talk. "And I - I assume you'll be requiring all three of them."

"We are not certain about this one," drawled the American, pointing at a photograph of the three young women that was propped up on the desk. "The one in blue."

The man started. "Why ever not? Her six-month training in the Antarctic was incredibly intensive - if not the hardest..."

"We are aware of that. Her ability as an agent does not concern us. It is just that you cannot deny that she has...connections with the suspect."

The man laughed. "We all do, though. Anyone who went to Hogwarts or who has money invested in Gringotts or even has magic has connections with him. It's impossible that they don't."

The American cleared his throat. "Her relationship is slightly different with him."

The man sighed. "They do not function well without being in a three." He could imagine the Blue Angel's fury at not being part of an operation - especially this operation.

"I'm afraid it's almost out of the question... unless..."

"Unless what?" He tried not to sound too impatient.

"Unless we could use her connection with him to our advantage."

You bloody American bastard. He couldn't believe he hadn't thought of it before. That's why the yank had come to them; he wanted to use her as a plant.

Why was he, head of this division, even considering taking this case anyway? Why should he bother talking to the girls or his boss about it? To be frank, he hated it. He refused to believe any of the accusations. Wizards did go bad, but not him...not...

"What did you have in mind?" he asked gritting his teeth.

"Constant surveillance. Meetings where she has a microphone - "

He almost hissed. "The Angels are not to be bugged."

"We have everyone's best interests at heart in this matter." I bet you bloody do. "The Angel could be in danger - if she has a microphone on her person we can provide back-up. Would you rather have her in jeopardy?"

"I'll speak to them," came the eventual reply. Then - "don't call us Mr. Tyrell. We'll call you."

*

"Miss Lavender Brown?" asked the assistant, looking around the comfortable waiting room at the eager, anticipating faces.

"Oh yes," smiled a bubbly young woman, dressed in yellow. "That's me!"

"Hi," said the assistant as he gave her a fleeting smile. "Will you follow me please?"

"Of course," she replied, breathing sensuously. It was never too early to impress. She turned and followed him out of the waiting room, pausing briefly to give the others a consoling smile. This one was hers already, she could tell. Silently, the assistant led her to a small room where four judges - three men and one woman - sat and waited expectantly.

"Hi," they chorused. Lavender merely smiled. "And what will you be singing today?" asked the woman, encouragingly. Lavender beamed. "SOS." The judges exchanged glances. "Ah," said one of the judges, a thin, arrogant man, "how original."

Lavender opened her mouth wide and inhaled. "Where are those happy days? They seem so hard to find."

The judges were blown away. They looked astonished. They must love me, thought Lavender. Oddly enough, another judge - a round podgy one with pretentious shades - was covering his ears and another - a grey-haired, glasses wearer - was shaking his head.

How strange, thought Lavender. "I used to be so nice, I used to be - er I mean - it used to be so good..."

It was at that point that Miss Brown's handbag - which she had left on the floor in order for her hands to be free to dance - started vibrating. Damnit, thought Lavender. Not now!

"Hadn't you better, er, answer your handbag?" asked the fat judge, deigning to take his hands off his ears. "I'm sure it'll be fine," replied Lavender, laughing nervously. "I'll just do the other verse."

"No!" the judges chorused immediately. Lavender raised her eyebrows. "That is to say, we've heard all we want to... we'll let you know." That was better, thought Lavender. They had obviously been so impressed with her rendition of the first verse that they didn't need to hear any more. Lavender smirked, thanked them for listening, stopped to pick up her handbag and left the audition room. Checking no one was in hearing range, she zipped open her bag, reached for her yellow Nokia 3310 and answered the waiting call. "Goldy here," she said.

*

Knock, knock. "Parvati? Parvati Patil? Answer the door, I know you're in there!" Parvati rushed to answer the door of her single bedroom London flat. On opening, she saw her twin sister standing in the corridor in a fury. "Padma," said Parvati, a little shaken. "Come in."

"Why thank you," her sister replied sarcastically, brushing past her heading for the living-room. "You're welcome," said Parvati quietly to the empty corridor. She shut the door, checked no one had followed her sister and went into the living-room where she found Padma glaring up at her from a sofa. "What are you doing in London and how can I help?"

"Where the hell where you yesterday?" demanding Padma, answering a question with a question.

Yesterday... yesterday. What the hell had happened yesterday? "Yesterday?" she asked meekly.

Padma rolled her eyes. "Yes, you know, yesterday... the 5^th of January 2002... the day when our parents got back from Chennai and landed in Luton? The day when you were supposed to pick them up? The day when you abandoned them - the people who raised you - to make their own way to their house in Essex?"

Parvati groaned and sank into the sofa beside her sister. The 5^th - she had thought it was the 7^th. "What happened?" she asked.

"They called me of course," snapped Padma. "What else could they do but call their only other child - never mind the fact that she lives miles away in Manchester and has to drive all the way down at three o'clock in the bloody morning..." She paused for breath.

"Padma..." began Parvati. "I'm really, really..."

"No," interrupted Padma slickly. "No apologies. Just answer the question."

"What question?"

"The one I just asked," said Padma through gritted teeth. "Where the hell where you yesterday?"

Parvati let out a breath because she knew that she would be lectured when she answered. "I was at work."

Padma stared at her as though not quite understanding what her sister was saying. Her mouth opened and closed wordlessly as though she were a fish. Then she closed her eyes. "You were at work. I see. No further explanation is necessary."

Parvati put out her hand and took Padma's in it. "It was a real emergency..."

"An emergency?" demanded Padma, snatching her hand away and opening her eyes. "I work in a casualty department!"

"What I'm talking about's more serious..." And though she regretted saying the words as soon as they tumbled out of her mouth, she was right. Yesterday Parvati had had to track down a convict who had escaped from Azkaban and transfigure a revolver into a portkey so that when the prisoner tried to shoot her he had been transported back to his cell...

" - More serious?" spluttered Padma. "More serious? Yesterday, because I left, an eight-year old boy nearly died! And what you had to do was more important than that?"

Parvati was about to say yes. After all, the boy hadn't died and the jail break would have caused a great many deaths, had she, Parvati Patil, not intervened. However, as usual she could not tell Padma anything so she bit her lip. "No," she replied tonelessly. "Of course it wasn't more serious than that. I'm sorry."

Padma sighed and cooled down somewhat. "Why can't you just admit you forgot?"

It was true, in a way. She would have remembered it was the 5^th if she hadn't been awake for the last 24 hours - but she had forgotten, there was no denying it. "You're right Padma, I'm sorry. I did forget. But something important did come up at work and..."

Padma held up her hand. "I know something came up and I know how important your career is to you and thank god you're no longer the flighty Gryffindor that you once were but... sometimes we - Bauji, Ma and me - we feel as though you put your work before us."

Parvati looked at her in complete shock. She had known her mysterious job bothered her family but she hadn't realised that the situation was this serious."No, no that's not true at all!" she protested.

Padma smiled apologetically for what she was about to say. "Well it seems that way. You're never home and when you are you can suddenly be called away for no apparent reason. You're always out of your flat and we can never reach you because you won't tell us your mobile number..." She stopped because Parvati was about to interrupt. "Yes, yes I know that you insist you don't know your mobile number; the only person who does is your boss, he's the only one who ever calls you..." She sighed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to lose my temper - well actually I did but anyway - Ma and Bauji are back now and it would be nice if you came back in the car with me to Essex to see them after their trip..." She broke off because she heard a vibrating noise. Oh no thought Parvati. Not now. "What's that?" asked Padma.

Parvati sighed. "It's my phone," she replied. "My work phone."

Padma knitted her eyebrows. "Well?" she asked expectantly. "Aren't you going to get it?"

Parvati shook her head. "I can't."

Padma almost laughed. "Why on earth not? What's the point in them calling you then?"

"I can't answer it while I'm in company," said Parvati exasperated. "I have to be alone."

Silence. Padma opened and closed her mouth parrot-fashion again. "Fine," she said coolly at last. "Be alone if that's what you want. I'll make your excuses to our parents." She left abruptly, slamming the door behind her. Parvati groaned and reached for the red Nokia 3310 that was vibrating on her coffee table. "Scarlet here," she answered.

*

"And now, for our next lecture please welcome Ms. Hermione Granger." A mountain of applause burst forward as Hermione nervously got to her feet and took the stand. This was it, the big one. If she wanted to receive her Order of Merlin at the same time as juggling it with her career she had to excel in this speech. Confidence had never been a problem for Hermione but that didn't stop her legs from shaking as she tested the microphone. She took a deep breath and smiled at the assorted wizards and witches seated in front of her. "My Professors, Lords, Knights, Sorcerers and Sorceresses, Witches and Wizards," she began. "Today I am here to remind you of how great a need the wizarding world has to welcome those who are not of pure-blood. I will begin by..." She broke off. Her phone was vibrating. The audience turned around looking at each other, wondering at the identity of the guilty culprit. Not now! Oh God, not now! "Um..." She never said "um." A buzz of whispered conversation began. Hermione felt the Minister for Magic looking at her in astonishment. "Will you excuse me?" she asked. She looked up at her tutor. "I'm sorry Sir. Could you give me about an hour?" He looked absolutely furious.

"Permission granted, Ms. Granger. We'll reschedule - for another six months." Hermione felt utterly humiliated. Her one chance was gone. She had nothing to do but grab her notes, smile apologetically at the audience and make her way out of the auditorium, her phone clutched in her right hand. Once she had got out of the building, she pressed receive and said in an utterly pissed off voice "Skye here. This had bloody well better be good."

*

Bosley watched from his window as, almost simultaneously, three sports cars drew up outside. The first was a yellow Jaguar, the second a red SAAB, and the third a blue TVR. Three young women emerged from the cars, each slamming their doors shut. Bosley flinched; he could not hear the sound of the doors but he could still tell, by the expression on the girls' faces, that none of them were happy. They did not acknowledge each other - they never did, unless they were alone or in a meeting. As they entered the building through separate entrances, Bosley turned away from the window and sat down at his desk, waiting for the onslaught.

The girls burst through the door and the last of them slammed it behind her. This time, Bosley heard the thud.

"What the hell do you mean by standing between me and fame..."

"If my family disowns me I'm blaming you!"

"Thanks, Bosley. Thanks - I've just as good as failed the degree I've been working on for the past three years."

Bosley sighed and waited for the storm to subside. This was nothing new - the girls were always busy when he was told to call them. True, they had never all been doing something so important to them to hit him with abuse at the same time...

"They loved me, LOVED me, I tell you and then what?"

"She had forgiven me - they were all going to forgive me but guess what comes next..."

"I was confident, I'd made a brilliant introduction but it was all too good to be true because - "

"MY BLOODY MOBILE RANG!"

They paused, realizing that they had spoken together. The three of them exchanged a sardonic smile and promised to comfort each other once the battle was won. Bosley opened him mouth, about to speak.

"Well, what is it then?"

"Why are we here?"

"Go on Bosley - I'm dying to find out what's more important that what we just mentioned."

Bosley let out a breath. "Sit down," he said. They still looked defiant, but after nodding at each other sat down in front of him. "Before I tell you the case, may I remind you that when you stepped in here three years ago you signed a contract. In that contract, you agreed that work came first - that your personal lives were secondary..."

"Yes, secondary, but not non-existent."

Bosley held up a hand to silence her. "Goldy, I'm sorry that I called you in the middle of your audition but if you'd told me you had one, instead of going behind my back, I may not have done so."

"That's because if I'd told you I had one, you wouldn't have let me go," she pouted.

"That's not true - not necessarily. It is true that there is no way you would have been allowed to spend six months in some muggle pop competition, but I would have let you have a go at entering all the same."

Goldy bit her lip and was silent. Bosley resumed his speech. "In that contract, you agreed that the needs of our world came before personal, selfish needs..."

"Selfish? You think wanting to look after your parents is selfish?"

"I understand Scarlet, but you have a sister who is equally responsible for their well-being. You must admit, that you do your fair share."

Scarlet shook her head. "I left them stranded at Luton airport..."

Bosley looked confused. "But on the day they returned, you didn't even have a mission!"

"I know," sighed Scarlet. "Forget it."

"And in that contract you also agreed that this is your career." Bosley looked pointedly at the third girl. "I know it is," she said finally. "But sometimes I feel like I never have to use any intelligence in this profession. I just want to have something to show that I'm - I'm still clever, I suppose."

For the first time, Bosley smiled. "But you didn't want that. You wanted to kick ass, save the world, remember, Skye? Hogwarts was over, Harry had defeated Voldemort and you didn't have a clue what to do with yourself."

She smiled, remembering her naïveté. "I know. But I was wrong. This life doesn't satisfy me. You go out, have a punch-up, save the day and then..."

"There's no House cup waiting for you at the end?" he asked wryly.

Skye shrugged. "I don't know."

Bosley sighed, opened a file and took up a pen. "Go and get changed. The boss'll be here in 10 minutes."

Anyone who could have seen the girls before and after changing clothes would have been astonished. Lavender Brown entered her changing room wearing a short, strappy purple dress with white stilettos and emerged as Goldy, in black knee-high boots, a leather skirt and a tight, black jacket worn over a yellow vest-top.

Parvati Patil was wearing blue jeans and a grey hooded-top, but minutes later transformed into Scarlet in red ankle boots, tight, leather trousers and a dark red leather jacket.

But anyone who knew Hermione Granger, who started off in a pin-stripe trouser suit, would not recognise her as Skye, wearing an all-in-one marine leather cat-suit. The first time Hermione had seen her work outfit, she had laughed, professed it to be Uma Thurman's "Avenger" costume and vowed never to wear it again. Time had changed her and though she could never say that she liked wearing the uniform (especially when she needed the toilet) she had grown attached to it. She laughed as she thought of how she would say to her grandchildren, "look dear, that's where a real asshole knifed me."

The girls made their way back to Bosley's office where they found that he was sitting in a different seat. At the head of the table was their boss. The girls gulped. They hardly ever saw him, with his messy auburn hair and commanding person. It was strange, thought Skye, that this man now terrified them so much, this man who had once been like a brother to her. She, Scarlet and Goldy sat down next to Bosley, opposite him. He looked at each of them in turn and smiled at their anxiety. "Good morning angels," he said.

"Good morning, Charlie," they chorused in unison.

His smile widened. "Bosley tells me that you were somewhat disconcerted at having been called in this morning."

Bosley shifted uncomfortably in his seat as evil looks were shot at him. "Anyone," continued Charlie, "Who is unhappy to be here, had the opportunity to leave before, during and immediately after the training programme. That is no longer an option. I do not have time to waste in employing another angel."

The angels looked at each other nervously. "I do not like my time wasted. Please do not make me have to hear such things from Bosley again."

"I doubt that'll be a problem," muttered Scarlet to herself." Charlie did not hear her.

"We have been given a case, which I frankly do not like or believe in. However it is better that we take it rather than an organisation, which believes in curse first, think later." He paused. "As you know, the movements of the dark forces have been relatively quiet over the past few years, since Voldemort's demise. However, we now have reason to believe that there is someone attempting to take his place - a possible heir."

The girls straightened up. "There is, of course, only one person who would know who Voldemort left his powers to..."

"Who?" asked Goldy.

"The person who brought him down," replied Scarlet, looking at Skye.

"Harry," said Skye, unnecessarily.

"This is where it becomes difficult," continued Charlie. "I am almost certain that the reason that we were approached is because of Skye's relationship with Harry..."

Skye rolled her eyes, interrupting him. "What relationship?"

Charlie continued, ignoring her. "At first I was furious, but then I tried to see it from their point of view..."

"Yes, yes that's all very well," snapped Skye. "But the fact is that I haven't heard from Harry since we graduated from Hogwarts. Voldemort was defeated but Harry almost had a nervous breakdown after their final battle. After Sirius was acquitted, the two of them went abroad. I got one owl from him." She stopped, and looked at the floor. "Just one. Ron didn't get much more than that either and if he did, he didn't tell me." She looked up at Charlie. "You'd know more about that. So I'm sorry, but I won't be much help."

Charlie frowned, concentrating. "I understand you're graduating next week?"

Skye snorted. "No, due to unforeseeable circumstances, I was unable to deliver my final presentation. They've shoved me back six months."

Charlie waved this away with his hand. "I'll talk to the Minister for Magic. I'm sure you can give your talk tomorrow." He hurried on before she could interrupt him. "Now, you will owl Harry and invite him to your graduation. When he arrives, we will microphone you so that we at the office hear what he has to say on the matter."

Skye looked confused. "Microphone me? What do you mean? Why can't I just bring him here, or to the Burrow?"

Charlie cleared his throat. "Skye, we're not treating him as a long-lost buddy here. He's a suspect."

Skye laughed, a little nervously. "Charlie, you can't be serious!"

Her boss sighed. "I'm sorry but I am. You know the way it is - we can't just wave rules for our friends..."

Skye stood up, her legs shaking. "He's not just a friend."

Scarlet extended a hand towards her. "Skye, if you two went out then I understand..."

Skye waved her away impatiently. "He's not just a friend - he's family. And he's your family too Charlie. Your mum almost adopted him..."

"Skye, sit down," said Charlie quietly. She hated that tone - he had hardly ever used it with her before - but she remained standing. "I asked you to sit down," he repeated. Reluctantly she sat. "Now listen. I don't want to believe this but we've always known Harry was... different. He had powers that none of us, not even Dumbledore, could ever comprehend. And at the end of the day we have to consider whether Harry really brought Voldemort down or whether, at the last minute, the power was just to much for him to resist."

Goldy and Scarlet looked up at Skye expectantly. Both of them were shocked and they had barely known Harry. They could only imagine what emotions Skye was battling. Why was Charlie behaving this way? Why so alien?

When Skye did speak, she did so quietly, scared she would break into a sob if she raised her voice. "Don't you think that. Don't you dare. This is Harry Potter!"

"Time can change people, Skye. Power can change them."

"Not people like Harry! For God's sake he was more than the Boy Who Lived. He was your brother's best friend!"

"Exactly Skye. He was. But you just said it, you have no idea who he is now. Now he will come to your graduation, is that clear?"

Skye glared at him. "Yes," she said finally, gritting her teeth.

"Pardon?"

"Yes, sir," she spat.

"Good. I suggest the other angels also go to your graduation, for back-up, if necessary."

"Back-up!" Skye spluttered. "You think my best friend's going to try and kill me?"

"You are all dismissed. Leave. Now."

Scarlet, Goldy and Bosley slowly got up. Skye remained seated, glaring at Charlie. "I said Now." Silently, Skye stood up and walked out of the door, not bothering to wait for the others.