Author's Note: Chapter One of my Harry Potter/Wheel of Time Crossover. It opens in Book 4 of HP and Book 1 of WoT. Some plot elements are similar, and some have been tweaked for my own personal interests. As the story continues, the plot will further unravel and I can do whatever the hell I want with it. I do hope you enjoy this rather unique piece.

CHAPTER ONE

DEFECTIVE PORTKEY

The Burrow

Harry felt himself shaken roughly awake from the deep slumber he had been enjoying. He tried to roll over and let the luring temptation of sleep overwhelm him again, but prodding fingers jabbed at his side. He brushed at the annoyance without opening his eyes.

"Lemeelone," he mumbled, still mostly asleep.

A hand firmly shook his shoulder. He dimly registered Mr. Weasley's voice, barely perceptible in the back of his mind. "Harry, you must get up! It'll be time to go here in a bit."

"Go—where?" Harry slurred, confused. He reached blindly for his glasses on the bedside table.

"The Cup, Potter, the World Cup! Get up and get dressed!" Mr. Weasley left him to himself, walking across the room to wake the snoring lump in the other bed that was the unconscious body of his son, Ron.

Harry threw aside the covers and perched on the edge of the bed, pushing the bridge of his glasses up his nose. The old lightning bolt shaped scar on his forehead twinged painfully. He squinted at the morning light that shined in through the window, and then looked around as his eyes adjusted. His best friend had a small room at the top of the Burrow beneath the attic. The walls were decorated with posters of the Chudley Cannons, Ron's favourite Quidditch team. The team's colours were displayed on the red and orange comforters that were thrown across both of the beds. Harry's snowy owl, Hedwig, dozed in her cage atop his school trunk at the foot of his bed. A small table by the window supported an empty cage. Ron's rat, Scabbers, had not occupied it since the previous year. But then, Scabbers wasn't really a rat.

Ron groaned in his sleep as his father attempted to poke him awake. One leg twitched out and Harry heard Mr. Weasley cry out in pain as Ron's foot connected with his shin. He would have smiled had he not been so tired.

"Oh, Dad, it's just you," Ron said, sitting up in bed. "I was having a lovely dream about Hermione being chased by some of your garden gnomes." He yawned, stretching sleepily.

"Never mind that," Mr. Weasley said. "Your mum's got breakfast ready downstairs. Quickly boys!" with a flourish of his tattered cloak, he turned and departed from the room.

Harry and Ron dressed in silence before going down to the kitchen. The kitchen of the Burrow was the social gathering place of the Weasley family. It was located at the back of the house, with an exterior door that provided easy access to the garden. The kitchen contained a large wooden table with room enough for eight people to sit comfortably around, although more could be accommodated with the flick of a wand. There was a large fireplace in the room which also served as the Weasley's connection to the Floo Network. A clock with one hand hung isolated on one wall. Harry loved this clock. Instead of keeping time, it pointed to various phrases such as "You're late" and "Time to feed the chickens".

Everyone was sitting around the table with the exception of the twins and the two oldest sons. Bill and Charlie had taken a few weeks off work to spend time with the rest of the family and see the World Cup. The eldest Weasley boys had spent the majority of the morning out in the garden having duels with the picnic furniture. Mr. Weasley had changed from his wizard's robes into something more suitable for travel through the Muggle world. A great black dog lumbered up to Harry and stood up on its hind legs, placing its front two paws on Harry's chest as it licked his face eagerly.

"Geroff me, Sirius," Harry managed to breath out. The dog whined playfully and had transformed back into the figure of a man in a flash. Shaggy black hair hung down past his shoulders. His face looked healthier than it had the last time Harry had seen him. His eyes weren't sunken into his skull and his teeth looked as if they had had some magical rejuvenation bestowed upon them since his time spent in Azkaban. Sirius had disposed of his prison garb for something more appropriate for a wizard. His velvet shirt was tucked into black trousers that were cinched with a wide belt. His dark brown overcoat hung down to his boots. The sides were smothered with pockets. He beamed at Harry as he embraced the young wizard.

"So good to see you again, Harry," Sirius said. "And you, Ron." Ron nodded awkwardly, moving past them and settling himself at the table, helping himself to some eggs.

"It's great to see you too," Harry replied. Sirius guided him over to the table with one hand. Harry seated himself between Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. The latter smiled at him and passed him a platter of toast. Harry took the offer, reciprocating the smile.

Sirius had settled down on Mrs. Weasley's other side, next to Hermione. "Have some kippers, Harry." Mrs. Weasley urged him. "You look as if those relatives of yours don't feed you at all."

"No thanks, Mrs. Weasley, I'm not hungry." she scooped some eggs onto his plate anyway. He turned his attention to his godfather.
"Where's Buckbeak?" Harry asked him.

Sirius spoke around a mouthful of egg. "Hagrid's looking after him for the time being. I still haven't decided on what I'm going to do after the Cup. The Ministry still thinks me a criminal, after all."

"I still don't think that's a very good idea," Mrs. Weasley spoke up. "You going to the World Cup and all. Some people might recognize you, even as a dog. Lucius Malfoy, for one. He's in the Minister's pocket. You could end up back in Azkaban before the night is out."

Sirius scoffed at her and winked slyly at Harry. Mr. Weasley shot a glance at his wife at the mention of Malfoy. "I'd much prefer it if we didn't discuss vermin at the table, dear," he said.

Mrs. Weasley huffed and left the table, taking all the cleaned plates with her. She busied herself at the sink and didn't say a further word. Hermione looked as if she wanted to go over and say something comforting about men, but she merely took another bite of toast and kept her eyes on her plate.

Fred and George traipsed down the stairs to break the awkwardness. One of them sat down at the table while his twin lurked over his shoulder. Both were smirking pompously.

They spoke in unison. "Good morning, all. We have just discovered something that is potentially quite profitable."

Everyone just stared at them as the twins continued smiling. Molly had dispensed with her dishwashing and had turned to regard her sons with a disapproving look on her face. "Fred, show them," the standing one said.

Fred withdrew several small individually wrapped packages from his pocket and held them up for everyone gathered around the table to see. "Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes is proud to announce…the Ton-Tongue Toffee!"

Mrs. Weasley rolled her eyes and drew her wand, swishing it agitatedly. "Accio! Accio! Accio!" She ranted off as the toffees flew from Fred's fingers and into her outstretched palm. "You two know better than to bring such nonsense into this house," she said, shaking a finger at them. "It's downright foolish! Why can't you place your ambitions into something more practical like your brothers? Bill's a Curse Breaker in Egypt! Charlie is studying some rare breed of dragon off in Romania! Percy—"

With the mention of her third son, the colour drained from Mrs. Weasley's face and everything around the table halted to a standstill. Mr. Weasley was fidgeting nervously in his chair. He appeared to be working his mouth furiously, but nothing came out. Harry was perplexed. He turned to Ron.

"Percy doesn't spend much time at home any more," Ron explained. "Not that I'm sorry, mind you. He's some sort of assistant for the Minister, apparently. He's gone over Dad's head a few times now to get what he wants. I dunno much else about it, besides the fact that Mum and Dad had a row the other night. "

Harry whistled silently between his teeth. It did sound like Percy. He had always been a pompous and arrogant prat. Everyone was still sitting around looking uncomfortable. Mrs. Weasley had returned to her dishwashing as if nothing had been said.

Harry broke the silence, looking at Fred. "Ton-Tongue Toffees?" he asked curiously.

Fred seemed pleased to have something to discuss to break the tension. "George and I invented them. They swell your tongue to an enormous size. Quite a good practical joke, eh? That's what we want to do, open a joke shop. Of course, there is the matter of money, but we'll save that for later."

George nodded emphatically over his shoulder.

Ginny snorted around her coffee. Harry turned to regard her. She really was quite beautiful, he thought. She saw him looking and he returned his eyes to Fred. "The day you two open a joke shop will be the day I'm Headmistress at Hogwarts," she said to the twins.

"I think it's a brilliant idea," Harry said, wanting to offer the twins some support. They beamed at him.

"Are you alright, Hermione?" Mr. Weasley asked suddenly. She had been stirring her eggs with a spoon absently, withdrawn from the conversation. She blinked up hazily at the mention of her name.

"What? Oh, yes, sorry…I'm fine. Just…thinking about school is all." She looked as if she wanted to say more, but she merely returned her eyes to her eggs.

"'Attagirl, Hermione." Mr. Weasley went on. "You never take a vacation do you? She'll be the one to go places, boys. Mark my words." And with that, he picked up his empty plate and left the table, going over to talk quietly with his wife.

Several minutes passed as the rest of them ate in silence. Harry glanced at the grandfather clock in the living room. Both Bill and Charlie's hands had stopped dead at "Mortal Peril". Before Harry had the chance to open his mouth, a deafening crash came from outside followed by shouts from both sons. Hermione jumped from her trance as everyone rushed out into the garden.

The back exit to the garden was surrounded by rusted cauldrons and old Wellington boots. Harry was careful to navigate around these as he and the rest of the Weasley family made their way to the source of the yelling.

The garden was a large overgrown area with a pond full of frogs. Bill and Charlie stood several yards apart in the middle of the grass, practically screaming at each other. Bill deftly landed the table he had been levitating on the ground at his side and made his wand disappear inside his robes with the flick of his wrist. Shattered remnants of what looked to be a lawn chair littered the garden around Charlie's feet.

"You bloody cheat!" Charlie swore as they all drew closer.

Bill brushed the ponytail out of his eyes as he matched stares with his younger sibling. "I wasn't aware there were rules, dear brother. I do believe I won the duel."

"Of course you won! You blasted the bloody chair out of the air with your wand!" Charlie stamped his feet, swearing profusely.

Mrs. Weasley looked aghast. Her husband laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I just got done telling Fred and George what buffoons they were and here I stand watching you two acting like children! Grow up!" she fumed, her chest heaving.

Both of them stopped with their mouths hanging open and looked at her. "Sorry, Mum," Bill said sheepishly. Charlie echoed him. "It was only a bit of fun."

The only thing that set Bill apart from the rest of the Weasleys was his dangling ponytail and dragon's fang earring. Charlie was the exception. He had flaming red hair and freckles like the rest of the Weasley children, but there began the oddities. His boots seemed to be made of dragon hide and wide callouses enveloped both of his hands. Charlie had a very non-traditional look about him that Harry found fascinating.

Before anything further could be said, a spark of red fireworks burst against the cool grey sky somewhere in the distance. Mrs. Weasley started back towards the house.

"That's the signal, boys," Mr. Weasley said, looking after his wife with what appeared to be a face of concern. "It's time to go."

Bill pulled out his wand once again, muttered "Reparo!" and the fragments of wood reformed into a comfortable picnic chair instantaneously. The eldest Weasley son replaced his wand in his pocket as the ten of them started out into the morning.

Sirius had transformed back into the shape of a dog. Harry caught up to Mr. Weasley as they walked down an empty neighbourhood street. "Mr. Weasley," he said, "how are we getting to the World Cup?"

Mr. Weasley nodded to himself and smiled. "Ah, you see, Harry, it would be quite impractical to stuff thousands of wizards into a tiny compartment at once. The Hogwarts Express, for instance. Impossible. For events such as these, the Ministry of Magic authorizes the use of registered Portkeys."

Mr. Weasley saw his blank look. "Portkeys are objects that have been imbued with a spell capable of transporting anyone who touches them to a predetermined location."

"They can be anything?" Harry asked.

"Oh, yes," Mr. Weasley said. "You wouldn't want some Muggle picking them up, so they tend to be unobtrusive objects. Things most people would think are only garbage."

"So where are we going now?"

"The Ministry has established registered Portkeys all over England. The closest one to us is at Stoatshead Hill, so that's our destination."

No sooner had Mr. Weasley finished talking than they rounded a bend that gave way to a tall grassy knoll. A voice cut through the morning dew a few yards away as they ascended the hill. "We've got it over here, Arthur!"

A middle aged man dressed much the same as Mr. Weasley approached them, accompanied by a handsome youth. Harry, Fred, and George all nodded at Cedric. Ron kept his eyes directed away. He had never forgiven Cedric for beating Harry at the Quidditch Final the previous year.

"Steady on, Amos," Mr. Weasley greeted. "All right there, Cedric?" he nodded at both of them.

Cedric held a dilapidated boot in his hand. He held it out as everyone gathered in a circle around him. Harry followed suit.

Mr. Weasley looked at his watch. "Muggle devices," he said to no one in particular. "Fascinating."

Everyone stood in silence for a few more seconds. Harry pushed down a yawn as a raven cawed somewhere nearby.

""One," Mr. Weasley counted. "Two."

Something tugged at Harry's robes. Ginny was holding onto him with one hand, he saw. She seemed not to notice.

"Three," Mr. Weasley said.

Eleven human hands and one canine paw all touched the boot at the exact same moment. Harry felt his feet lurch forward and he was dragged into the swirling vortex.

Outskirts of Baerlon

Thick shafts of moonlight cut through the stark leatherleaf trees. Two small figures sat on a fallen log, one holding a lantern that provided a limited pool of light.

"I have many questions," Egwene said.

"Ask," Moiraine replied, "and if I can tell you now, I will. Understand, there is more for which you are not yet ready, things you cannot learn until you have learned other things which require still others to be learned before them. But ask what you will."

Egwene chewed her bottom lip for a moment before answering. "The Five Powers," she said. "Earth, Wind, Fire, Water, and Spirit. It doesn't seem fair that men should have been strongest in wielding Earth and Fire. Why should they have had the strongest powers?"

Moiraine's laugh was cold and bitter. "Is that what you think, child? Is there a rock so hard that wind and water cannot wear it away, a fire so strong that water cannot quench it or wind snuff it out?"

Egwene lowered her head in shame, shifting a rock over with her foot. "They…they were the ones who…who tried to free the Dark One and the Forsaken, weren't they? The male Aes Sedai?" She emitted a shallow breath and continued. "The women were not part of it. It was the men who went mad and broke the world."

"You are afraid," Moiraine reasoned. "If you had remained in Emond's Field, you would have become Wisdom, in time. That was Nynaeve's plan, was it not? Or, you would have sat in the Women's Circle and managed the affairs of Emond's Field while the Village Council thought it was doing so. But you did the unthinkable. You left Emond's Field, left the Two Rivers, seeking adventure. You wanted to do it, and at the same time you are afraid of it. And you are stubbornly refusing to let your fear best you. You would not have asked me how a woman becomes an Aes Sedai, otherwise. You would not have thrown custom and convention over the fence, otherwise."

"No," Egwene shook her head firmly. "I'm not afraid. I do want to become an Aes Sedai."

"Better for you if you were afraid, but I hope you hold to that conviction. Few women these days have the ability to become initiates, much less have the wish to." Moiraine mused for a moment. "Surely never before two in one village. The old blood is indeed still strong in the Two Rivers."

"Two?" Egwene felt her eyes go wide in shock. "Who else? Is it Kari? Kari Thane? Lara Ayellan?"

Moiraine clicked her tongue in irritation. "You must forget I said that. Her road lies another way, I fear. Concern yourself with your own circumstances. It is not an easy road you have chosen."

"I will not turn back," Egwene said.

"Be that as it may. But you still want reassurance, and I cannot give it to you, not in the way you want."

"I don't understand."

"You want to know that Aes Sedai are good and pure, that it was those wicked men of the legends who caused the Breaking of the World, not the women. Well, it was the men, but they were no more wicked than any men. They were insane, not evil. The Aes Sedai you will find in Tar Valon are human, no different from any other women except for the ability that sets us apart. They are brave and cowardly, strong and weak, kind and cruel, warm-hearted and cold. Becoming an Aes Sedai will not change you from what you are."

Egwene felt her chest heave as she drew a heavy breath. "I suppose I was afraid of that, that I'd be changed by the Power. That and the Trollocs. And the Fade. And…Moiraine Sedai, in the name of the Light, why did the Trollocs come to Emond's Field?"

The Aes Sedai held up a finger and her head swung towards the darkness as she held up her lamp. Two figures crept toward them from the night. A twig snapped underfoot and they paused.

"Bloody stick," one of them said quietly.

The pair of them made their way over to the two women sitting on the log. Moiraine tensed as they came into the light. They both looked to be teenagers. One was a gangly boy with flaming red hair and freckles that covered the majority of his face. The other was a girl that stood slightly behind him. She had bushy auburn hair that cascaded down past her shoulders. There was a scratch, perhaps from a tree limb, down the left side of her face. Both of them were dressed in black robes and simple shoes not made for travelling.

"Excuse me," the red-haired lad called out to them. "Could you possibly direct us to the Cup?"

Moiraine looked to Egwene. The other woman shook her head and just stared. "Cup?" she said hesitantly.

"Yeah, the World Cup," he replied. Then he paused, looking the two of them up and down. "Say, where are you from?"

Moiraine ignored his question, instead imposing one of her own. "Who are you, and how did you come upon us?"

"I'm Ron, and that's Hermione," he gestured to the girl. "I'm a Weasley. We just came here from Ottery St. Catchpole by Portkey."

The two women stared with blank faces.

"England?" he tried.

"I know of no place by that name," Moiraine said. She stood, brushing off her dress. Egwene mimicked her. The two youths looked extremely confused. "Come with us." Moiraine did not wait for a response before she turned and started to make her way back to their camp.

Lan shifted under his blanket roll as they returned to the camp. The Warder had only been rolling over in his sleep. Everyone else was accounted for. The three Two Rivers boys and Thom Merrilin all slumbered nearby. Deep snores rumbled from the gleeman's chest, ruffling his moustaches.

The Aes Sedai gently shook Lan awake. He came to in one swift movement, one hand grasping for his sword. "What is it?" he breathed.

"We have visitors," Moiraine replied grimly, pointing out the two newcomers.

The Warder took a step towards Ron and Hermione. They backed up a few feet. "Who are you?"

Ron sighed exasperatedly. "I just got done telling your friend there. I'm Ron and this is Hermione."

The Warder's cloak shifted to a shade of murky grey as he drew his sword and placed the tip under Ron's chin in the same movement. "You will show respect when addressing an Aes Sedai," he growled.

Hermione squeaked and Ron stood frozen. "I'm sorry," he said, holding up his hands. "We're not from around here. We don't know your customs."

Lan looked at Moiraine, still directing his sword at Ron. The Aes Sedai's eyes were unreadable. "I suspect they are Darkfriends," she said to him. Egwene let out a small yelp.

Lan turned back to the youths. "I'm inclined to agree," he said through clenched teeth. "Wake the others, and tie these to the horses. They go with us. We leave now."

Author's Note: If you are enjoying this, please feel free to visit my profile and take a gander at my other FFs while you wait patiently for me to update. XD