Author's Note: I started out just wanting to put these characters together and see what happened. What happened is that they have taken the story and run with it! Enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters. They are the property of J.K. Rowling, Tamora Pierce, Paramount, Mercedes Lackey, and David Eddings.

Chapter 1: The Adservioso Spell

Three young wizards sat listlessly in the Gryffindor common room. It was the last week of their fourth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, and somehow none of the three felt much like going home. Harry Potter, especially, was quite depressed. For a few elated moments he had actually thought he had won the Triwizard Tournament's gold cup, jointly with the other contestant from his school, Cedric Diggory. That was before they had found out that the cup was a portkey, and Voldemort had whisked them away and killed Diggory almost out of hand. He could hear the Dark Lord's cold, evil voice in his head still: "Kill the spare." Harry had barely escaped with his life, but the fact that he had escaped at all while Cedric hadn't made him feel almost guilty.

"Harry, Ron, come here a moment!" The excited voice was Hermione's. She had spent the past half hour with her nose in a large book of spells she had found in a corner of the library. Harry and Ron had a sneaking suspicion that it had been left outside the restricted section by mistake, and had advised Hermione not to read it, but Hermione, usually the most cautious of the three, was absolutely reckless when it came to interesting books. She had pooh-poohed their worries and promptly curled up in a chair to read it.

They left their chess game – neither had really been concentrating on it anyway – and moved to either side of the chair to look over Hermione's shoulder at the page of the book she was pointing to. At the top of the page in a flowing script was the inscription: "The Adservioso Spell: Find out where you're needed most."

"It's a charm," said Hermione, squirming with excitement, "that will instantly take you to the people who most need your help! Isn't that a useful spell?"

"It sounds like a good one," Ron said. "Do you think we could try it?"

"Ron, are you out of your mind?" screeched Hermione. "Didn't you read the warnings? Look," she pointed at the bottom of the page. It read:

"Hazards: Warning, this spell is imprecise. There is no way to specify location or time frame. Others in your vicinity may be pulled in at random. The counterspell will not work until you have helped those who need you."

"Still sounds like fun," Ron said stubbornly. "No, listen, Hermione," he added in a lower voice as she opened her mouth to retort, "Harry's been really down lately. If we do something interesting, maybe he'll snap out of his slump."

Both friends glanced over at Harry, who had fallen into another brown study. Hermione sighed, then tossed her head. "All right," she said decisively. "Let's try it!"

Harry started and looked at his friends. "Try what?" he asked.

They spent several minutes carefully practicing the complicated wand movements, and saying the words until no one mispronounced them. "All right," Hermione finally said, "Ready? One, two, three – "

Their wands moved synchronously as they said the words of the spell, "Adservioso complicatioso!"

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Minerva McGonagall had a bad feeling about this. She had been studying Herb Servus' book of spells in the library when she had heard sounds of sobbing from behind a nearby shelf of books. She had put the book in a shadowed corner where she could pick it up later and gone to investigate. After doing her best to comfort Cho, who was still devastated by Cedric Diggory's death, Minerva had gone back to that corner of the library only to find that the spell book was missing. Hermione Granger had been the only other student in the library, and Minerva didn't think she would have been able to resist taking the book if she'd found it lying on the floor.

Silently berating herself for her carelessness, Professor McGonagall left the library and hurried in the direction of the Gryffindor common room. She had reached the portrait of the Fat Lady and opened her mouth to speak the password when there was a flash of purple light. When the light dimmed, Minerva was standing alone in the middle of a desert. "Hermione!" she called. There was no response.

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Severus Snape was afraid, which made him a hundred times more irritable than he normally was. In just two days he was going to have to answer the Death Eater's call and enter the Dark Lord's service again. He would, as he had before, be a spy for Dumbledore, and the mere thought of what Voldemort could do to him if he ever found that out was enough to make him tremble all over. A student brushed against him on her way upstairs, and he glared at her. Hermione Granger blanched and clutched the enormous book she held closer to her chest. "Sorry, Professor," she whispered as she hurried up the stairs toward the Gryffindor common room. Snape glowered and continued on his way to meet Minerva McGonagall, who was researching some spells for him.

Nearly twenty minutes later, McGonagall had still not arrived for their meeting. Severus was getting more than a little irritated. And there was something else bothering him too. Irritably, he wondered what it could possibly be. Hermione Granger's book! Hadn't she been holding Herb Servus' book of spells? That was restricted material! How had she gotten hold of it? Honestly, after all that had happened you'd think Potter and his friends would learn to stay out of things that didn't concern them!

Angry now, as well as irritated and afraid, Snape strode furiously toward the Gryffindor common room. As he approached the portrait, he saw Minerva standing in front of it. He opened his mouth to demand to know why she'd kept him waiting, when suddenly there was a flash of purple light. When his vision cleared, he was standing in the middle of a desert, and Minerva was nowhere in sight.

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"Is this going to work?" Briar Moss asked his teacher.

Rosethorn looked up from the herb bed she was weeding and surveyed Briar and Sandry's work with a critical eye. "Time will show," she said. "But it looks like it should. Well done, Sandry."

Sandry glowed under the normally cross and prickly woman's praise and surveyed her handiwork with pride. Briar had been complaining that even the finely-woven netting he and Rosethorn put over the peach trees wasn't keeping the birds from eating the fruit as soon as it ripened. It had been Tris's idea to ask Sandry to weave magical nets to repel the birds and protect their fruit. Sandry was a thread-mage, her magic showing itself in the form of weaving and sewing, braiding and knots.

"Briar!" The boy was lying happily on the ground, all the nearby plants twining about him. Rosethorn's voice was sharp. "If you're done over there, why don't you get started weeding the corner bed?"

Briar sighed and carefully disengaged the plants. He and Rosethorn were both mages whose magic flowed through living, growing things. Unfortunately, much of Briar's practical training in his art consisted of weeding, weeding and more weeding. He didn't really mind, though he liked to complain sometimes to get Rosethorn's goat. Any work here was far better than his life on the streets had been.

He had just started pulling weeds, trying to make their death as quick and painless as possible, when Sandry's excited squeal made him look up. There in front of them were three kids about his own age. Two were boys, one tall and gangly with bright red hair, the other shorter, with unruly brown hair and eyeglasses. The other was a girl with heavy brown hair and wide eyes. They wore identical black robes and pointed hats and held sticks in their hands. All of them were pale and insubstantial—Ghosts? He wondered—and they looked terrified. Even as the three mages watched, the shades began to fade. Briar could just make out the words forming on the girl's lips: "Help us."

Without stopping to think, Briar sent out a tendril of his green magic energy, connecting with a blue thread of Sandry's magic to wrap tightly around the three kids. They pulled with all their might. It didn't work, though. Instead of pulling the three strangers towards him, Briar found himself violently jerked away from his garden into …

"NO!" His teacher's voice was indistinct, as if it was coming from a great distance. He felt her magic wrapping around himself and Sandry. There was a flash of purple light, and then he and the boy with the glasses were standing alone in the middle of a desert.

"Sandry! Rosethorn!" Briar looked around wildly, but there was no sign of his mate or his teacher.

"Hermione?" the boy with the glasses yelled. "Ron! Where are you?"

There was no response.