Charlie's Angels

Chapter Three: The Untraceable Location

PG-13 for sexual references and swearing

One moment Hermione and Ron were standing next to the wall; the next they had been pulled through it. Hermione's first thought was to protect Ron and she grasped his hand tightly. She felt him squeeze her own hand back. Her second thought was that she could not hear Scarlet or Goldy's voices any more so that wherever she was being taken was an untraceable location.

Oh Ron, she thought miserably, what have I got you into? One of Hermione's greatest qualities was her altruism. Despite having got a reputation for being, as Snape had coined it, an insufferable-know-it-all, she never acted as though her intellect made her life worth more than anyone else's. Growing up, she had always supported Harry's decisions completely, not just because the Boy Who Lived needed her intelligent insight and near-perfect spells, but because he was Harry, who needed her emotionally. For that matter, though Hermione, had she indulged in her own personal feelings, would have felt excited at the thought of seeing her best friend, it was the Boy Who Never Shut Up who commanded her attention more at present; she felt responsible for Ron. If anything happened to him under her watch, Charlie would never forgive her. She would be out of a job, for starters, but more importantly she would almost be out of a life. Though Scarlet and Goldy (always Scarlet and Goldy to her, never Parvati and Lavender) had come to mean more to her in the past three years than they had done during all their time of sharing a dormitory at Hogwarts, she would never feel as comfortable in this trio as she had done in the one where she actually fit. Harry had stolen himself away from her intimate group... if this possible pseudo-Harry tried to steal Ron from her as well, she would be nothing.

Hermione's mind travelled through these musings so quickly that later she would wonder whether this was what people saw when their lives flashed in front of their eyes. It was a near-enough experience to dying; one moment, standing upright, the next, being pulled through an invisible barrier to a world which you had no idea even existed.

Parvati and Lavender had never seen Charlie look so angry. He seemed to have aged ten years, and as he sat there fuming, the girls were both reminded of the creatures he used to work with as a younger man; he looked as though he would breathe fire at them. But when he did find his voice, it was icily cold.

"How did you let this happen?" he demanded.

Lavender, rather unsensibly, did not think before speaking. "We didn't just let them disappear, Charlie, we were following them closely..."

"You understand my meaning, Angel," Charlie hissed, interrupting. It was strange how the word angel could seem to have so many definitions. Sometimes it carried all its biblical worth and the girls felt like they had the most rewarding career in the world. But on days like these, when Charlie shook them with fear and spat 'Angel' at them, it seemed as though the girls had sold their souls to the devil, rather than any positive force. "I was not referring to the fact that you allowed a member of the public to be taken to an untraceable location by not following him closely enough. What on earth was he doing there in the first place?"

Parvati and Lavender exchanged a glance. They both wished Bosley were there to support them, but he was downstairs, working on the voice decryption. As much as the girls could hold their own in a battle against former Death Eaters, they always lost when answering to Charlie. And it was not as though it was really their fault this time; Skye had chosen to inform Ron about Harry's possible return, the other Angels could hardly blame themselves that he had tagged along. As soon as they had lost them, they made a quick scout of the premises, and, on Charlie's orders had apparated back to their vehicles, which were parked some ten minutes away from headquarters, and driven in. They had not even had time to change - they were still in their waitressing garb, which, apart from anything, added a touch of badly timed humour to the situation. Parvati tried to pull down her tiny mini-skirt to cover her bare legs and Lavender adjusted her yellow blouse to show more cleavage.

Charlie seemed nonplussed by their outfits, thought Lavender, a little confused. Okay, his brother had just possibly been kidnapped, but still, nearly all men would get flustered at the sight of her in such a well-fitting, revealing costume. Not that she had a big head.

"I specifically gave you orders not to allow anyone to accompany the Blue Angel, and yet my orders were disobeyed."

"They were not disobeyed!" Lavender began indignantly. Parvati shot her a warning look. Dressed as Lavender was, and also made up in tarty pink lipstick and glittery blue eyeshadow, she looked a typical dumb blonde, which had been the original intention. Unfortunately, thought Parvati, she seemed to be acting it as well.

"We relayed your orders, Sir," Parvati interrupted. "We tried to keep Ron away from Skye, but, well... he was rather persistent."

"It seems to be a family trait," said Lavender, before Parvati could stop her. "Barking up the wrong tree. Running around on fools' errands."

Parvati closed her eyes just in time as she heard a curse being muttered, a crack and a shriek from her colleague. She opened them to find that the chair that Lavender had been sitting on had vanished and her friend was now on the floor in a very undignified position, her skirt having ridden up so high that it now looked like a pair of hot pants, which now hardly covered her bare legs. "I do not run fools' errands," said Charlie, grimly, unperturbed by the sight of what appeared to be a hot and bothered employee. "Stand up."

"God, Charlie," muttered Lavender, as Parvati helped her up. "If you'd wanted me this way, then you only had to ask." Luckily she was too quiet to be heard.

"Now," said Charlie crisply. "Our first objective is to recover the civilian."

"What about Skye?" asked Parvati, also standing up. (She was partly concerned that her chair would be similarly removed.)

"I have no doubt that my third employee will emerge unscathed and full of information as always," he replied shortly. "But as for the other..." For a moment, he seemed to lose all nerve and the girls saw the situation for what it really was... a man bargaining for his brother's life... but the emotion went as quickly as it had come, and when he spoke, he was all neutrality. "Skye was taken there because she was wanted. Ron was an unnecessary addition. Do you know what the last words Cedric Diggory heard were when Harry unknowingly led him on his final journey?"

The Angels shook their heads, although they had a feeling as to what their boss was about to say. They were pretty accurate. " 'Kill the spare,' " said Charlie. "Let's not give someone else the chance to say that."

Hermione blinked and looked around her. She was on a beautiful, sandy beach, that stretched as far as her eye could see. The gentle rolling of the tide almost reached her feet, and that rustling... could it be... yes, tall, elegant palm trees lined up behind her. For one moment, it seemed like heaven. Then Ron pinched her.

"Oy," she said. "What was that for?"

"Did it hurt?" her friend demanded. He looked bewildered but determined.

"No, of course it ..." Hermione began, but stopped herself just in time. She had almost let it slip how much her pain threshold had increased. The pinch had been nothing compared to the bruises and broken bones she had taken over the course of her training and operations, but Ron wasn't to know that the twelve year old Hermione who had wimpered when Millicent Bulstrode got her in a headlock had grown into a martial arts expert.

"Why did you pinch me, Ron?" she said, instead of trying to cover up her blunder.

"To see if we're dreaming," he said, rolling his eyes.

"We're not dreaming," snapped Hermione, irritated, rubbing her ear, checking for her earpiece. It was there, but didn't seem to be working. "Honestly, if I was dreaming of being stranded on a desert island, I wouldn't choose for it to be with you."

Usually, Ron would have retorted back in fashion, but this time he looked startled, upset even. Hermione was about to apologise when a third voice spoke.

"Who would you rather? Someone not so tall, dark and not so handsome?"

Hermione turned round just in time to see the said not so tall, dark and not so handsome person pull off an invisibility cloak and offer her a wry smile.

There he was, standing in front of her, with such an unabashed expression, you would have thought that he had seen her only yesterday. She wanted to freeze that moment, to take in the sight of this twenty-one year old man revealing himself to her. She wanted to linger on his scar, practically faded now but still there, an essential part of him. She wanted time to take in his new, expensive glasses, his developed jaw, the slight outline of muscles under his robes.

But she was an Angel, and Angels weren't given time to stand and stare. Her wand was already in her right hand before he had finished speaking and she had thrown out her left arm to hold Ron back.

"Identify yourself," she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

"Identify myself?" said Harry, smiling widely. "Blimey, Hermione, when did you start working for the Order?"

"Hermione," Ron said, trying to push her heavy arm away from himself, "can't you see it's Harry?"

"Don't be thick, Ron," she replied, pushing her arm back with more force than she intended. (She heard Ron cry 'ow!' in pain.) "How do we know you're not polyjuiced or this isn't a glamour?"

"Well..." came the reply. "I rather thought you'd be able to tell."

"The Harry Potter I know wouldn't drag us into the middle of the Caribbean without consulting us," she said, not quite believing herself.

"Well, that's interesting," he replied casually. "Since you followed me, and the Hermione and Ron I know follow me everywhere."

"To the ends of the earth, mate," said Ron, cheerily. "Is that where we are by the way?"

"In a way." He made a movement towards them and Hermione raised her wand.

"Don't move," she said, not taking her eyes off 'Harry' lest he try anything.

"Oh come off it, Hermione," scoffed Ron. "He could have killed us by now."

"He does have a point," the other one agreed.

"Plus," added Ron, "Only Harry would be thick enough to use that invisibility cloak again."

"It's true," the other agreed, "I can't really think up any new material. Hey, material, get it... as in material for the cloak?"

"Shut up," said Hermione crossly, not sure whom she was addressing. "Let me handle this, Ron?"

"Oh right," said Ron, "because you've done such a great job so far."

"You've got to admit," the other man chimed in, "you've landed the both of you on the middle of a desert island. You're not winning any house points."

"But - " Hermione protested.

"You know you're only acting like this because you can't admit when you're wrong," Ron continued.

Hermione gaped, unwittingly taking her eyes off the target, and letting both of her arms fall to her sides. "I can so admit when I'm wrong!" she declared, stoutly.

"Interesting," replied Ron. "When?"

"When what?" she demanded.

"When have you admitted you were wrong?"

Hermione looked from one to the other, marvelling at Ron's impeccable timing. Did he really have to bring this up now? "I admit I'm wrong," she said, choosing her words carefully. "when it happens." She paused, and Ron gestured for her to continue, his eyebrows raised. Hermione continued, coughing. "It just hasn't happened yet."

She watched as Ron exchanged a glance with the stranger and after a split second, both men fell to the ground laughing.

Hermione stood between them, resolutely. "And what," she asked, crossing her arms, "is so funny?"

"You've - never - been - wrong!" exclaimed Ron, gasping for air, because he was in peals of laughter.

Hermione actually looked put out. "Well, everyone's been wrong," she admitted, quietly. "What I meant was I can't remember a time I was wrong."

"She must have been memory charmed, eh Ron?" The other man was clutching his sides as he rolled about in the sand.

"Yeah," laughed Ron, nodding. "Because she obviously doesn't remember S.P.E.W. or the time she thought Neville was actually gay..."

"He was very effeminate," Hermione shrieked. "Honestly, Ron, and S - P - E - W was fighting a very good..."

"Or what about," the other cut in, also laughing, "when she thought that Fleur Delacour was in league with Voldemort. God, yeah, Hermione, you're never wrong."

Hermione put her hands on her hips and glared at him, her eyes narrowing. "Fine, side with Ron, you always do, Harry... This is so typical of you! Never mind that my rarely being wrong has got you out of all sorts of bother. The two of you would be completely lost without me and don't you try to deny it..." They didn't try to deny it. Both of them were looking at her in earnest, the laughter having gone. "I've been there for you every step of the way, Harry, from the minute I saw you on The Hogwarts Express to when you walked clean out of our lives without so much as a word on the final day of Seventh Year. I was there for you when no one else would or could be, so, just go ahead and tell me that I'm wrong Harry Potter, but..." She trailed away, realising that she needed no explanation or corroboration. She had stopped looking at Ron a long time ago and was now focused on the figure sitting in the sand in front of her. She didn't know when or how she had started referring to him as Harry, but she was now and that was all that mattered really. "It is you, isn't it?" she said, her voice barely reaching a whisper.

"You tell me," said Harry gently. "You're the one who's never wrong."

She stood there, looking into his jade eyes, for what seemed like an eternity. Somewhere, further off, Ron was getting to his feet and crossing over to his best friend. "It's good to see you," he said gruffly, and the two of them awkwardly clapped each other on the back. Harry answered in kind and then they both turned to watch Hermione gingerly. Her best friends were both in front of her. Harry was actually standing only metres away from her. Who cared how or why? Somehow she made it across the sands to reach him, throwing herself into his embrace so forcefully that she knocked him to his knees and she clung to him with so much feeling, like she had ten years ago, the first time she had ever held him. She could feel Ron grinning behind her and heard him make some flippant remark. She felt Harry's chest shiver next to hers, laughing at whatever Ron was saying. Keeping one hand round his shoulders, she reached out with her other and pulled Ron to the ground as well. She heard them both laugh again, but what they were saying was muted out by the crash of the ocean. For the moment she felt utter peace for the first time in three years. He was alive. He was safe. They were all together, and she could protect them both. The Angels and Charlie were long forgotten.

Lavender could hear the sound of her heels clicking as she and Parvati made their way down the underground corridors. Though these were desperate times, it was important to look and feel the part of sexy undercover women, she felt, as she alternatively pushed her hips to one side then the other when she walked in what Parvati called her 'airhostess walk'. She did feel concerned for Skye, but felt no sense of impending doom. Hermione had been the cleverest witch in the year, and she probably knew Harry well enough to recognise him... even if she hadn't been able to actually see him... Lavender had a gut feeling that everything was alright. She glanced to her right where Parvati was determinedly staring straight ahead, and felt a guilty wash that it was the Blue and not the Red Angel who had been taken from them. As horrible as it sounded, Parvati was practically the closest thing Lavender had to a sister, whereas Hermione was, and always had been, just someone she worked with. She shook herself. Hermione had never been anything but pleasant to her, unless you counted the whole Binky rabbit episode, and the three of them were a team now. They couldn't operate with only two members. It was as much about her own survival as Skye's.

"How are we going to do this?" she asked Parvati, as they approached one of the laboratories.

"No idea," replied Parvati. If she hadn't been trying to be so professional, she would have shrugged. "Charlie said Bosley's close to getting a match with the voice, so that'll be a start."

They had come to the entrance of the laboratory. Lavender grasped the Bouncer Ball device, a silver sphere the size of a tennis ball, from where it was magically gravitating just in front of the door. She bounced the ball once. Instead of hitting the ground with the force that a tennis ball would have, it stopped itself two centimetres above the ground and shot back into her hand quickly. The girls heard the echoes surround them.

"Brown, Lavender Charlotte, age 21 years and 15 days, physically identified. Please speak for voice verification."

Instead of saying, as she had done in the beginning, "er, hello?", Lavender pressed on with her conversation. "So are they trying to match it to Harry's first?"

"Voice verification accepted. Please wait while your companion is identified."

Lavender threw the ball to Parvati, whose reflexes never failed her. She chose to throw it into the air instead, and just to show off, to clap her hands together twice before the ball shot back to her. "Patil, Parvati Lakshmi, age 20 years and 330 days, physically identified. Please speak for voice verification."

"That's what Bosley started with, yeah. But you've got to remember that even the network's only got a copy of Harry's voice three years ago. The voice could have a completely different quality."

"Voice verification accepted. Welcome to Cloud Nine." The door in front of them dissolved into whorls of air, and the Angels again felt that wonderful sensation that they were walking through clouds.

"Different quality?" asked Lavender, as they made their way through the fog. "You mean, his voice may have broken? He'll have chest hair? Harry's balls might finally have dropped?"

They had reached the other side of the mist, and Parvati turned to stare at her friend. "Are you seriously accusing The Boy Who Lived, the baby who wasn't killed by Avada Kedavra, the teenager who took down Voldemort, of not having any balls?"

"No," Lavender admonished, "I'm saying that they never dropped at school. He was stuck in that pre-pubertal phase. Must have been something to do with living in a cupboard."

"That could be quite a dissertation Yellow Angel."

Lavender and Parvati looked up and saw that they were being thrown a mixture of different expressions from the hundred or so faces looking down at them from the upper balcony. Some were amused, some were exasperated, some were hanging on to their every word and some, Lavender was pleased to note, were eyeing her up.

"Thanks Bosley," she replied smoothly, flashing him a beautiful smile. "I'll consider it."

"Perhaps it could wait until after this particular mission?" asked another voice archly, from one of the faces that had not been eyeing her up.

"Absolutely Karen," said Parvati, taking over. "Bosley, have you managed to get an answer on that voice decryption?"

"Well, yes..." said Bosley, uneasily. "We've made some progress."

"First thing's first," said Lavender. "Is it Harry?"

Bosley sighed. "It's difficult to tell... Harry's last recorded sample was taken more than three years ago, which means that..."

"Blah, blah," interrupted Lavender. "Yes, yes, his balls may finally have dropped. Just yes or no, Bosley, is it him?"

Bosley ran his hand through his hair. "Well, the fact of the matter is... and we can only be 70% sure if that..."

"Bosley!" exclaimed Parvati and Lavender in unison.

Bosley let out a deep breath. "No. We don't think it is Harry."

Hermione had eventually released Harry. "We want to hear everything," she said firmly.

"Give him a chance to breathe, Hermione," grinned Ron.

The man they were smiling at smiled back at them. "We do have a lot to catch up on."

"You're damn right we do!" exclaimed Hermione. "I can't believe this... I mean, just like old times... no awkwardness, nothing..."

Ron coughed. "Well, there was that whole you threatening to stun our best friend thing."

"You can't blame her, Ron. You had no way of knowing it was me."

"You do look different," Ron said, cocking his head to one side and taking the sight of Harry in.

"Three years outside Hogwarts'll do that for you. You look less freckly."

Ron scowled. "And you've developed a sense of humour. When did that happen?"

"Round about the time I started hanging out with people who are actually funny," Harry smirked.

Another person would have taken offence, but Ron looked impressed. He clapped his friend on the back. "Sarcasm too!"

Hermione put her hands on her hips. "This is, as usual, fascinating, but I want to hear about where you've been over the last three years, Harry Potter."

The boys both jumped. They had forgotten she was there.

"Course," said Harry. "And I want to hear about what you lot have been up to as well."

"Very dull, mate," said Ron in an off-hand tone, "I'm a translator for the bureaucratic as ever Ministry, and Hermione just pulled off a first."

Harry, however, broke into a smile at this news. "You got a first, really?"

Hermione smirked, wondering what he would make of her real career. "You seem surprised."

Harry shook his head. "I don't know why."

"Enough about us," said Hermione. "Is this home for you? This island or whatever it is?"

"Yeah," shrugged Harry. "It's more, 'whatever it is,' to be honest."

Hermione nodded briskly, folding her arms in a business-like fashion. She had expected as much. "Who's in charge of its landscape?"

Harry looked a bit taken aback, but answered readily enough. "Sirius left it to me in his will."

Hermione glanced at him, aware that Ron was looking from one to the other giving them odd looks. "So you've been in control of it since you were sixteen?"

Harry shook his head. "No, a bit later than that, but I did inherit it then."

Hermione's brow furrowed. "But that was before we - before you cleared Sirius' name."

Harry laughed and shook his head. "Never miss a thing do you, Hermione? Yeah, Dumbledore gave me the keys before the acquittal, so it's never been registered."

Hermione nodded slowly, the pieces finally coming together. The land wasn't registered, so still untraceable. "You do know that's illegal?"

Harry actually looked like he might roll his eyes. "It's not really the first time I've done something that's illegal, now, is it?"

Yes, thought Hermione, exasperated, as always with Harry. But there was a reason you had to do those things...

Ron coughed loudly. "What the hell are you talking about?" he demanded. "Why am I always left out of the loop? What's illegal? What do you mean by registered? It's just an island, right?"

For answer, Harry closed his eyes and concentrated so hard that wrinkled lines appeared across his forehead, making him look very old. Then in an instant, the beach, ocean and palm trees had vanished and they were now standing on a confined (but empty) dancefloor. Hermione saw Ron gasp in astonishment, as he looked around his surroundings. A fully fitted bar ran along the line where the bad had previously been, and instead of sunshine, he was staring into a strobe light. Dance music was blaring in the background, and Hermione had to cover her ears because it was deafening. "Can't you turn it down a bit?" she yelled to Harry."

Harry yelled something back to her, but she didn't hear him. But in a minute, he had screwed up his eyes in concentration again and they had again moved location. They were now standing in a comfortable living room. Ron gave a yelp and almost fell into the fireplace. Harry crashed out on an armchair, which looked uncannily like his favourite from the Gryffindor common room, looking exhausted.

"Oh," said Ron, simply.

Hermione threw her hands up in the air. "Harry Potter, you just did two morphs without having any Butterbeer and chocolate! You must be exhausted. Have you no sense?"

Harry, tired as he was, did have the good humour to flash her a smile as he clicked his fingers together once, and a dozen house-elves entered bearing the said medicaments on trays. "I like to live dangerously," he winked, as he settled himself further into his armchair, and lazily helped himself to chocolate. "Now, was there anything else you wanted to know Ron?"

_____________________________________________________________________

"Oh God," whispered Lavender, shakily sitting down.

Parvati tried to keep her voice steady. "Are you saying that Hermione and Ron have disappeared into sheer air with someone who probably isn't the hero we thought he was, and we have no idea where they are?"

Bosley held his hands up. "Right now, I have no idea what to say. They've been taken to an untraceable location, that's as much as we can be sure of."

Parvati covered her face with her hands. Eventually she slid her hands far enough down her face so that all that could be seen was her pair of concerned dark eyes. "So all we know is that we have no idea where they are and we have no way of collating a list of anywhere where they might be because the bloody Land Office hasn't managed to get a hold of Unregistered Locations yet."

Lavender crossed one leg over the other, ran her fingers through her poker-straight blonde hair and interrupted. "Okay, someone's going to have to fill me in here. What are Unregistered Locations?"

Everyone turned to stare at her. One of the trainees was so surprised that he spoke to her, when usually he hadn't the guts to even venture a 'hi'. "You haven't heard of Unregistered Locations?"

Lavender flashed him a smile of very even, white teeth and put on a dumb face. "I'm blonde, dyslexic and..."

"And a singer," the assembly chorused.

"Yes, Goldy, we've all heard," Bosley sighed, exhausted by her perpetual excuse for not knowing anything. "Simon, care to fill our Yellow Agent in?"

The trainee who had spoken to Lavender went bright red at the thought of actually being asked to speak to her this time around. He pushed his glasses up his nose and cleared his throat. "An Unregistered Location is a piece of land which a new owner has somehow acquired without having gone through the proper procedure. For instance, land that has been unoccupied for decades or land held by the Ministry which is ignored and eventually taken off the Register."

"Thanks Simon," Lavender interrupted. "But I have a question: so what?"

Simon, if possible, turned even redder. "I'm sorry if I - I wasn't clear... basically an unregistered location will never be found on our files which means that it's pretty much untraceable."

Lavender's eyebrows knitted. "But every location is traceable," she pouted, looking at her best friend and ignoring Simon, giving him up as a lost cause. He was probably a little too young for her.

"No, Lavi," Parvati said, shaking her head. "Every location is traceable as long as it stays in the same form for at least a month."

"Stays in the same form? What do you mean?"

Bosley took over the explanations. "Do you notice how Charlie's office always looks slightly different every now and then?"

Lavender nodded. "Yeah, but I figured he just followed the Changing Room trends," she said, smiling sweetly.

"Goldy, this is serious!" Bosley almost snapped. "Now just keep quiet if you want to hear about this."

Lavender extracted a shiny pink lipgloss from her handbag and began to line her lips with it. "Absolutely. Fire away, Bos."

Bosley sighed, but did not reprimand her any further. "The reason there are constant changes to the architecture of these headquarters has nothing to do with interior decoration. The fact is the land you are standing on is unregistered, and if we keep changing its form within the monthly time period..."

They waited for her to click. After an exaggerated pause, she clicked her fingers together and her eyes lit up. "Nice!"

Karen, one of their top analysts who had never really gelled with Lavender, coughed. "Now that everyone is on the same page, may we continue?"

Parvati shot her an evil look. Lavender always took such things in her stride, but Parvati could not stand it when people put her warm, charming best friend down. "Yes, Bosley, do you have any idea what to do now?"

Bosley, suddenly returning to the immediacy of the situation, again looked concerned. "Not really, I'm afraid. Has anyone had any thoughts while we've been discussing the issue? Anyone? Yes, Karen."

Karen looked directly at Bosley, rudely acting as though none of the Angels was present. "I do have an idea. We have no proof that the Blue Angel is in any immediate danger, all evidence suggests otherwise. Surely it would be better to wait for her to return and report, rather than risk leaking the investigation?" She displayed no sign that she was ashamed of what she way saying. "After all," she added, when she was greeted with silence, "the Angels' state of well-being is constantly monitored by the Tracker Bar." She pointed at a bar which was levitating high above their heads which was splashed with the three primary colours.

"That's an interesting idea," Parvati replied icily, before Bosley could veto this suggestion. "Unfortunately, the bar either floats when we're all alive or crashes to the ground when one of us dies, so I'm not prepared to take that risk."

"Yeah," agreed Lavender. "And to think Skye was the only one who actually liked you."

The room rippled with pockets of laughter. "Okay," said Bosley, holding his hand up for silence. "Anyone have any ideas other than waiting for Skye to report back?" He looked around him desperately. "Anyone? No - one? Wait... Simon, have you got a suggestion?"

Surprised Parvati and Lavender turned to face the young lad, who was nervously fidgeting with his clipboard. "Um, it's nothing really... probably a stupid idea."

"No, go on," urged Parvati, and Lavender gave him an encouraging smile.

"Well," Simon muttered, "an untraceable location has descriptions, doesn't it? I mean if it was a flower shop or er, a restaurant it would be described in that way and we do keep a constantly updated list of areas that just appear. For instance, we would have say, 10 new restaurants appear at a time."

"So they are traceable?" asked Lavender, very confused. Parvati took her friend's hand which was a nice way of telling her to shut up.

"In a way," said Simon, distracted from his chain of thought. "They're called untraceables because they change so quickly that you have no real way of tracing patterns of forms... oh, where was I?" He paused. "Oh yes, so then we would have a list of types of forms and we would simply need to work out which type of form the Blue Angel has gone to." He stopped, looking pleased with himself.

Parvati exchanged a glance with Bosley, who was looking disappointed. She also noted that Karen seemed to be happy that someone else was being made a fool of. "Simon," Parvati said, in the tone she used with her young cousins, "that's a brilliant idea. It's just that we have no way of knowing which type of form Skye's gone to. That's the problem. Her tracer isn't working."

"Well, no way of knowing where she's gone, no," continued Simon, hurriedly. "But we do have a possible way of finding out where the other captive is."

Lavender looked utterly perplexed. "Why don't you ever use people's names? Do you mean Ron? And how on earth are you planning on finding him?"

Simon pushed his glasses up his nose again. "Well, it's not foolproof... I read about it in Hogwarts, The Next Generation. I've never actually seen it working myself... and we're going to need Charlie."

There was a very thick silence. Then Bosley put his head in his hands, Lavender's jaw dropped open, and Parvati closed her eyes. Karen had the decency to stifle her laughter into a mere snigger.

After much pleading and assurances that it was essential to the mission, Charlie accompanied Parvati and Lavender (who had finally changed out of their waitressing outfits into jeans, t-shirts and comfortable shoes) to The Burrow. Simon's plan sounded childlike and foolish, but they had no alternative. Charlie still had his own key. "Try to make it quick," he grumbled, letting them in, "I'm guessing everyone's still at Skye's graduation ceremony, but they'll be home soon seeing as the guest of honour has vanished."

"Where is it?" asked Lavender. Neither she nor Parvati had never been to The Burrow. Hermione, of course, was a welcome face at The Burrow, but of course, she was elsewhere at present.

"In the living-room," replied Charlie, leading through the hall into a homely sitting area. Parvati spotted it immediately. A large grandfather clock stood in one corner, and if she hadn't examined it closely she might have mistaken it for an ordinary, antique muggle clock. Instead, it was as Simon described. Various possible locations were dotted around the clock where any of the nine Weasleys might be. Charlie's was currently set at home. Parvati's eager eyes soon found Ron's name, and to her relief the second hand was not at 'mortal peril'. Currently, it was resting on 'On Holiday, Abroad.'

She looked up at Charlie, who stiffened beside her. "It's good news, Charlie," she said, firmly.

Lavender was already on her Nokia. "Bosley, it's Goldy. I never get why we have to say that anyway, it comes up on the display screen... oh right, yeah. Ron's location is on holiday abroad. Yeah, that's all we have, sorry.... Well it's only a bloody clock, what is it supposed to do? Get back to me." She hung up, rather abruptly. "They're on it," she added, unnecessarily.

Charlie and Parvati nodded silently, and the three of them grew uncomfortably silent. This was an odd situation to find themselves in; Charlie was the Angels' boss, they didn't go visiting around his parents' house.

"Nice place," Lavender said, pretending to look around.

"No place like home," her boss grunted.

Another silence. Eventually Lavender's mobile buzzed. She answered it very eagerly. "Hey. What? Oh for Heaven's Sake! Goldy here, satisfied?" Parvati tried to smile at Charlie, but he didn't return it. He was evidently still annoyed by the whole day's proceedings. "So what have you got? What? Oh you have got to be kidding me!" She took the phone away from her ear, and Parvati heard the voice ramble on. "They've got eight hundred abroad locations. It's too wide a variable or something."

"Well I thought it would be," sighed Parvati, turning back to the clock, "but that's all it... wait, it's changed!"

Charlie snapped to attention. "What?" Ron's hand now pointed to "shady overpriced nightclub". He turned to the girls, the blood rushing to his face. "Why weren't you watching it?"

Parvati, taken aback, resisted the urge to yell back, 'why weren't you?'

"Sorry Charlie, Lavender get that relayed to Bosley," she said, now focusing all her attention on the clock.

"Well, how are we to know that it hasn't changed in the meantime?" Charlie demanded. "It could have changed form or type at least five times!"

"It's changing now," said Parvati, gritting her teeth. Sure enough, the second hand was whirring round and round looking for a place to stop. It eventually came to rest.

"Bosley, we're looking for something that changed less than three minutes ago to a shady nightclub..."

"Shady overpriced nightclub," hissed Charlie, as though this were a vital detail.

"...Shady overpriced nightclub, sorry, and 10 seconds ago changed again to rich friend's living room...."

Parvati focused all her energy on the tiny mobile phone next to Lavender's ear, willing for the team at the other end to have come up with something.

"We've got to go," said Charlie quickly.

"What?" Parvati asked. "But we might need... oh." She had noticed that the clock was now showing that nearly all of the Weasleys were now "Travelling Home".

"We'll go out of the back," he said quickly, "I'll just lock us in first, so they don't know anyone's been here."

He hurried to the front door and turned the key in the lock once. Lavender and Parvati began moving toward the kitchen area. Charlie joined them and quickly they let themselves out. They heard two things as they climbed over the back fence and were about to apparate: Mrs. Weasley's joyful 'home sweet home' and Lavender's shriek. "Bosley's got a match. We've just got to get back to headquarters, they're fixing a portkey."

Parvati let out a sigh of relief, glad they were getting one step closer to finding their missing loved ones.

Hermione was getting rather giggly on her butterbeer. Harry seemed to have a slightly stronger brand of the drink, which was just as well really because he needed to recover his strength after all those form changes. Eventually, she knew she would have to get the boys out of there and back to the real world, but it was so nice being here, in surroundings that reminded her so strongly of the Gryffindor common room. She felt rather like a naughty school-girl who knows she's missing her curfew and couldn't care less. Besides, she knew that Goldy and Scarlet couldn't be too worried about her... she wouldn't have dived into a wall with anyone she wasn't certain of. But you weren't certain, were you? a little voice at the back of her head said. "Another half hour," she told herself, leaning back and resting her head on Ron's shoulder and listening to the rest of Harry's animated story.

"The portkey both ways is this ring. Twist it round three times and you'll be back. Anyone coming with you must be holding your hand or touching you in some other way."

"Ooh Bosley," smirked Lavender, "I didn't know you had it in you." Moods had lifted considerably.

"Who wants to wear the ring?" Bosley continued, as though he hadn't heard her.

Parvati smiled. "Give it to Goldy, it is made out of that metal, after all."

Bosley handed it to Lavender, who slipped it onto her finger. "What about costumes?"

"We've had Simon tell us that he's picking up house-elves in the vicinity. So you're going to be Polyjuiced."

Lavender blinked. "Into what?" she asked blankly.

"Hold up, Bosley," Parvati said. "I've been polyjuiced before, but it's not meant to work on animals. Skye told us about this time..."

Bosley held up a hand. "House-elves are not animals. Trust me, you will be absolutely fine for the next hour."

Lavender's eyes grew wide in alarm. "House-elves?" she shrieked. "HOUSE-ELVES?"

Parvati sighed. "Come on, Lavvie, let's just drink up." She held her hand out for the potion, which Bosley handed to her. He gave them two vials. Parvati stepped behind the desk for privacy, and Lavender followed her, furious. "The things I do for this job! Skye better appreciate what I'm putting myself through!"

"Knowing her," said Parvati, stripping down to her sports bra and pants, "she'll start trying to hand you clothes and free you from your duties. Now lets see, do you want to be Bubble or Squeak?"

"I'd prefer not to be mousey thanks," Lavender squeaked, having also undressed. "I'll take Bubble."

Both girls clasped their vials and each other's hands. "Ready?" asked Parvati.

"As I'll ever be," Lavender replied. On the count of three they drank.

It took a while for the transformation to occur. Gradually they felt themselves shrinking, their ears growing large and pointy, their feet growing longer and thinner. Their vision blurred (house-elves can't see as well as humans) but both could smell better; the perfume that Lavender had been wearing practically reeked. The girls turned to face each other. Parvati was annoyed to find that Bubble was, like Lavender, very pretty, whereas she could tell from the amused expression on Bubble's face that Squeak was more like the ugly sister. Bubble also had a better figure; Parvati looked down at her own squat body which had several rolls of fat. "Er, Bosley," she called, her voice very shrill and, unsurprisingly, squeaky. "What are we supposed to wear?"

Bosley's voice echoed loudly in her new, sensitive ears. "You're house-elves. You don't wear anything."

"Brilliant," Parvati muttered. "Well, could we please have two small rucksacks for our clothes? Eventually we'll turn back and I'd like to be fully covered if and when the time comes."

Five minutes later Bosley came round the corner carrying two child size rucksacks. He bit his lip at the sight of his two employees staring up at him stubbornly in their new attire. "We've put water bottes, your mobiles and your wands in each of these. Careful that they don't see the wands because elves aren't allowed them. And there's also two vials in here - one will turn you back into yourselves should you need to, and the other will keep the guise going for another hour. You still got the ring, Goldy?"

Lavender held up her thumb. She was not merely giving him a thumbs-up, she was showing him the ring; it was now too big for any of her fingers.

"Alright then, good luck Angels."

The two house-elves clasped hands and Goldy turned the ring three times.

Unlike ordinary portkeys, this did not work in the usual fashion; rather, it was closer to an apparation and the house-elves zapped out of Cloud Nine into what appeared to be a kitchen busy with activity.

"Wow," squeaked Parvati. "Lots of house-elves."

"Yeah," agreed Lavender, "Some of them aint half bad."

Parvati closed her puffy eyelids. "Tell me you're not checking out male house-elves."

"Nothing better to do."

"What about the mission?" hissed Parvati. Naturally the hiss came out as another squeak.

"Good point, where can we stash our rucksacks?"

"Yous two!" a voice cried. The girls turned round to see a familiar looking house-elf glare at them. He was wearing a chef's hat, a badge that said 'Potter for President' on his bare skin, and three pairs of thick socks. "What are yous two doing? Why are you not deliveries goodies to Mister Harry Potter and his Wheezy? And what are you carrying in those bags?"

"Goodies for Mister Harry Potter," Parvati said without hesitation.

"And his Wheezy," Lavender added.

"They are not supposed to be in bags. They are meant to be on trays! What will Mister Potter think?"

"We're sorry," apologised Lavender, with remarkable sincerity.

"We're sorry what?" the house-elf demanded.

Parvati and Lavender glanced at each other, lost. "Er... we're sorry, sir?"

"You is not knowing Mister Dobby's name? What is Mister Dobby's name?"

"We're sorry Mister Dobby," Parvati and Lavender chorused.

Dobby looked suspicious as though they had tricked him in some way. "Well you be hurrying up with getting those goodies onto trays!" he snapped.

He flounced off to yell at some other dithering house-elves. Parvati and Lavender inched forward to where a line of house-elves was exiting the kitchen, balancing trays on their heads. Taking a deep breath in, they looked around the corner.

And were astounded by what they saw.

Skye, Ron and, by the looks of it, Harry Potter were sitting round a table in comfortable chairs laughing. Parvati felt her jaw drop. All this time... terrified of the situations that Skye and Ron might be in and here they were, exchanging stories as though this was perfectly normal.

"I am going to kill her," Parvati growled (squeaked).

"So much for SPEW," Lavender said, as they watched Skye dip her hand into a tray and devour some malteasers.