Author's Note: Chapter Two of my Harry Potter & Wheel of Time crossover. Many thanks to Robert Jordan for all the source material I used from Eye of the World, without which, I would not have a story. May he rest in peace. I hope you guys enjoy this second installment.

CHAPTER TWO

STRANGERS IN A STRANGE LAND

Baerlon, surrounding countryside

The harsh, unending winter stretched on, and the heat deprived sun slid slowly toward the naked treetops. A few wisps of clouds drifted off somewhere to the north. The frigid wind made all of them shiver, and Rand pulled his cloak around himself as he trotted Cloud forward.

The night before had been eventful. Lan had awoken him from a night of fretful sleep to tell him and the others of the new arrivals. Rand didn't know what to make of the two kids. He almost snorted. They were hardly younger than he and his friends. They seemed confused, with a hesitant glaze in their eyes that said something was amiss. Moiraine had named them both Darkfriends, but Rand doubted it. Still, the Aes Sedai claimed that the Dark One had eyes and ears where you least expected them.

Even after Moiraine's healing with the One Power, most of the horses could not afford to bear another rider on the long journey. They had had to act quickly and improvise. The red haired youth was sitting astride Mandarb in front of Lan, with his hands bound and the bindings wrapped around the saddle pommel. The Warder kept his nose up disapprovingly the entire time.

The boy's companion was seated in front of Rand atop Cloud. Her mountain of hair kept tickling his chin. Her hands were also bound in front of her. She shivered from the cold, and Rand pulled his cloak forward more, offering her some warmth.

Her name, she had told him, was Hermione Granger. She and Ronald Weasley were students that attended a school of sorcery, apparently. Rand didn't know of any place like that. The closest he could compare it to was that they were training to be Aes Sedai at the White Tower. But no living Aes Sedai would ever let a potential male into the White Tower, let alone train them to channel and harness the One Power.

Hermione had said that there had been others with them. They had presumably been going to some sporting event, but he could not make out the details for the life of him. He had only managed to decipher that broomsticks were somehow involved. She and her friends had been on their way to this event, when she and Ron woke up in the woods in the middle of the night, quite alone.

What startled Rand the most was the fact that whenever he mentioned Moiraine or Aes Sedai, the girl just stared at him with a blank look.

The journey was now into its sixth day. Lan would sometimes take his horse to scout ahead and report back to them, or fall behind to check their trail. Perrin was wrapped in silence, one hand holding Mat's bow. Egwene talked quietly with Moiraine. Mat sat on his horse with a gleeful look upon his face, juggling four brightly coloured balls, under careful direction from Thom Merrilin. The gleeman had given lessons each night, as well as the Warder.

"Hey Rand," Mat broke the silence suddenly. "I can juggle four! I told you I'd get to four before you. I—Look!"

The party had topped a low rise, and below them, hardly a mile away through the bare trees and the lengthening evening shadows, lay Baerlon. Everyone gasped with the exception of Moiraine, Lan, and the gleeman. Even the two newcomers wore stunned looks.

"I never thought I'd see the end of these damn trees," Ron called out to Hermione. She only smiled. Ron's eyes dropped as the Warder whispered a threatening remark in his ear before they continued on toward the town.

Surrounding the town was a log wall that stood twenty feet tall, with wooden watchtowers scattered along its length. Inside the town, rooftops of slate and tile glinted with the sinking sun, and tendrils of smoke drifted upward from chimneys. There was not a thatched roof to be seen, Rand noted. This was definitely different from back home. A broad road ran east and west of the town, each side with at least a dozen wagons and twice as many ox-carts trudging toward the palisade. Farms lay scattered about the town, thickest to the north while only a few broke the forest to the south, but they might as well not have existed so far as Rand was concerned.

Moiraine turned back towards the rest of them as they approached the wall. "We do not go by our own names here," she hissed. "Here I am known as Alys, and Lan is Andra. Remember that. Good. Let us be within the walls before night catches us. The gates of Baerlon are closed from sundown to sunrise."

Ron exchanged looks with Hermione as Rand pulled Cloud up next to Mandarb. "What did they call this place?" he whispered across the saddle to her.

"Baerlon, I think," Hermione said. "I've never heard of it before."

"Nor have I," Ron replied. "I think we're in a right bad spot, Hermione. I still want to know what happened to the others."

Moiraine shushed them as they came up to the town's gate. Lan rode up close to the wall and gave a tug to a frayed rope hanging down beside the gate. A bell clanged on the other side of the wall. Abruptly a wizened face under a battered cloth cap peered down suspiciously from atop the wall, glaring between the cut-off ends of two of the logs, a good three spans over their heads.

"What's all this, eh? It's too late in the day to be opening this gate. Too late, I say. Go around to the Whitebridge Gate if you want to—" Moiraine stepped her mare to where the man atop the wall had a clear view of her. Suddenly he broke out in a gap-tooth smile, and he seemed to quiver between speaking and doing his job. "I didn't know it was you, mistress. Wait, I'll be right down. Just wait, I'm coming. I'm coming."

They sat there for a few more seconds before the right-hand gate swung outward slowly. It stopped just wide enough for one horse to fit through at a time. Rand was the last one through. The rest of them had already dismounted. Moiraine had been speaking to the gatekeeper, but he turned to regard the rest of the party now. "Why, Mistress Alys, you taken up collecting downcountry folk with hay in their hair?" he noticed Thom then. "You ain't a sheepfarmer. I remember letting you go through some days back, I do. Didn't like your tricks downcountry, eh, gleeman?"

Thom ignored him, puffing out his moustaches. The scrawny old man directed his attention instead at Ron and Hermione. Both of their hands were still tied, but they had been lifted off the horses and stood now among everyone else. "Those two ain't from around here, either," the gatekeeper said. He squinted at them. "Them are odd clothes, them are. Where are you two from?"

Ron started to open his mouth, but Hermione jabbed him in the gut with her elbow. He groaned and bent over double. Lan interrupted.

"I hope you remembered to forget letting us through, Master Avin," Lan said, pressing a coin into the man's hand. "And letting us back in, too."

Avin made the coin disappear inside his clothes. "I ain't told nobody, and I won't, neither. Especially not them Whitecloaks."

"The Children are in Baerlon?" Lan asked.

"They surely are," the gatekeeper nodded. "Came the same day you left, as I recall. Ain't nobody here likes them at all. Most don't let on, of course."

"Have they said why they are here?" Moiraine broke in.

"Why they're here, mistress? Of course they said why. They say they're here because of what's going on down in Ghealdan. Just an excuse to meddle in other people's business, is what I figure. There's already been the Dragon's Fang on some people's doors." He spit indignantly.

Hermione finally opened her mouth. Moiraine shot her a look, but there wasn't much else the Aes Sedai could do that wouldn't attract the wrong sort of attention. "I've had just about enough of all this," Hermione said. "Who are all you people? Where are we? What's Ghealdan? And the Dragon's Fang?"

The gatekeeper looked confused. Moiraine drew herself up tall. "Let us find an inn to rest for the night, and you can ask whatever questions you wish there. Thank you, Master Avin." And with that, they continued on past the thoroughly perplexed gatekeeper.

The way led through dirt streets barely the width of two wagons, empty of people, all lined with warehouses and occasional high, wooden fences. Lan stopped by a section of head-high wooden fence that looked no different than any other they had passed. He began working the blade of his dagger between two of the boards. Abruptly he gave a grunt of satisfaction, pulled, and a length of the fence swung out like a gate.

On the other side of the fence Rand found himself in the stableyard of an inn. A loud bustle came from the building's kitchen, but what struck him in particular was its size. It covered more than twice as much ground as the Winespring Inn, and was four stories high besides.

No sooner had they come well into the stableyard than a man as big around as Master al"Vere came hurrying out of the inn. Puffs of hair stuck out above his ears, and his sparkling white apron was as good as a sign proclaiming him the innkeeper. He bowed deeply at the sight of Moiraine.

"Welcome, Mistress Alys. Welcome. It's good to be seeing you, you and Master Andra, both. Very good. Your fine conversation has been missed. Yes, it has. I must say I worried, you going downcountry and all. Well, I mean, at a time like this, with the weather all crazy and wolves howling right up to the walls in the night. Come. Come. Hot meals and warm beds, that's what you'll be wanting. Welcome to the Stag and Lion. Welcome to Baerlon."

Inside, the inn was every bit as busy as the sounds coming from it had indicated and more. The party from Emond's Field followed the innkeeper through the back door, soon weaving around and between a constant stream of men and women in long aprons, platters of food and trays of drink held high. The bearers murmured quick apologies when they got in anyone's way, but they never slowed by a step.

Raucous bouts of laughter emitted from the common room as they passed. Mat and Perrin craned their necks in interest, but they let their feet carry them forward nonetheless. The Warder mumbled something about finding out the news and disappeared inside the common room.

"Since the common room is full of activity, I'm giving you access to the private dining room," the innkeeper was saying to Moiraine as they walked.

"I thank you, Master Fitch," she replied. He almost blushed.

No sooner had they finished talking than Master Fitch stopped by a pair of wooden doors and threw them open. They went inside, and Master Fitch left them in search of a hot meal for his guests.

The private dining room had a polished oak table with a dozen chairs around it, and a thick rug on the floor. There was a merry fire crackling on the hearth across the room. They took places around the table, with Moiraine at the head and the rest of them gathered in chairs at the sides. Lan came in some time later, taking the seat at the opposite end of the table.

Hermione was the first to speak. "Everyone around here looks timid and afraid. It seems that there are whispers in the streets. I don't know what a Whitecloak is, but your tone was disgusted enough." She was looking at Moiraine.

The Aes Sedai was a long moment in responding. "You two must be from far away indeed, to know nothing of Whitecloaks. Or Aes Sedai, for that matter. I do not think you are Darkfriends. I think it is possible you are from another realm of existence."

"That would explain a lot," Ron said.

"Listen closely, now," Moiraine's look was intent. "You are in the middle of a war that has been raging since before the beginning of time. The Dark One is on the verge of breaking free of his prison, along with the Forsaken—"

"Voldemort?" Hermione said. Ron hissed at the name.

Lan directed his sharp blue eyes at Moiraine before he answered. "I have never heard the Dark One called by that name," he said. "His true name is Shai'tan, or Ba'alzamon in the Trolloc tongue. There were thirteen Aes Sedai that went over to the Shadow long ago. They are known as the Forsaken, and were bound with the Dark One in his prison."

"What is an Aes Sedai?" Hermione asked.

"Wielders of the One Power," Moiraine spoke this time. "The power drawn from the True Source, the driving force of the universe. Since the Time of Madness and the Breaking of the World, all Aes Sedai have been women."

"What happened to the men?" Hermione questioned.

"The One Power is divided into a male and female half. Saidin and saidar, respectively. Only a male can teach another male to channel, as only a female can teach another female. The Dark One attempted to break free of his prison once before. He was thwarted, but in so doing he left his taint on the male half. All male Aes Sedai eventually went mad and broke the world, reforming it into what we know today."

Ron drew his wand. "So an Aes Sedai is someone who uses magic?"

Moiraine shifted her eyes from him to his wand. "Magic? I suppose that is one word for the Power. It is not something derived from the supernatural, nor does it require a tool."

Ron shrugged and directed his wand tip at the candelabra on the table top. "Wingardium Leviosa!" The candles rose a few feet into the air, hovering. Everyone around the table backed their chairs away, with the exception of the two wizards, Moiraine, and Lan. The Warder's face was stone.

"Explain," Moiraine said.

"Where we come from, we're students training to become wizards," Hermione said. "I guess it's somewhat similar to what Aes Sedai do, except we use wands to produce spells and I don't know what connection our magic has with the universe. Male and female students are treated equally, and the only risk of insanity comes from endless hours spent poring over text in the school library.

"There are Dark Wizards, though," she continued. "Voldemort was one of the worst. He had innumerable followers. He tried to kill a friend of ours, but failed somehow. It's said that he lost his powers, and nobody has heard from him since."

"You said you came here with others, yes?" Moiraine asked.

"Yes," Hermione replied. "There were twelve of us. We were on our way somewhere else, and then Ron and I woke up alone in the dark."

"Is it possible that they are here as well? In this world, somewhere?"

"I guess," Hermione mused. "That doesn't explain why they weren't with us."

"No, it does not," the Aes Sedai agreed. "You are welcome to come with us on our journey, and look for your friends. We are on our way to Tar Valon, the height of Aes Sedai power. These three," she pointed at Rand, Mat, and Perrin, "all possess something the Dark One wants dearly, and whatever the Father of Lies wants, I oppose."

Hermione opened her mouth to say more, but there was a knock at the door and Master Fitch came in, accompanied by four serving girls carrying trays. "I'm afraid the food isn't what it should be, Mistress Alys," the innkeeper apologized, wiping his hands on his apron. "Just the chickens, and a few turnips and henpeas. With the winter we've just had, who can tell when the farms will harvest next?"

"It's quite alright, Master Fitch," the Aes Sedai replied. "A feast, compared to the bread and cheese we have been living on. A feast, indeed.'

"The inn is quite full, I'm afraid, but we've got a few rooms at the top that you should find accommodating," the innkeeper said.

The serving girls set the platters down on the table and scurried out of the room. The innkeeper bowed profusely before he followed them, closing the door behind him.

They ate in silence after that. Everyone had too much to think about. Rand was already dreaming of the bed that awaited him upstairs. Egwene was the first to push away from the table. "I think a hot bath would do me good," she said, and left the room. Moiraine went after her.

Thom muttered something about his harp and flute and rose from the table as well, moving deftly around the table as he exited the dining room, leaving only Lan, the three Two Rivers boys, and Ron and Hermione.

Mat leaned across the table toward Hermione. "Don't be afraid," he said slyly. "Whatever happens, I'll protect you."

Perrin knocked him on the back of his head. "She's not the one I'm worried about, Mat. We'll see if you're so brave when the Trollocs come back."

"Trollocs?" Hermione said.

"Let's leave that story for another day," Rand said as he got up. "I think I could do with a bath too before bed. Anyone else?"

The other two boys nodded eagerly and all three left the room. The Warder was not far behind. Ron and Hermione sat in silence for a few moments, staring into the dying embers on the hearth. Finally, Ron turned to her. "I'm not bathing in front of them. I don't even know them," he said.

Hermione burst out laughing. It was the first time Ron had seen her smile in days. "Come on, Ronald," she said. "Let's go and find our rooms. I could do with some sleep."

Hogwarts, one month after the disappearances

Severus Snape halted in front of the large and quite ugly stone gargoyle which guarded the entrance to the Headmaster's Tower. "Licorice wand," he said, and the gargoyle rose out of the floor on a marble platform, encircled by a set of stairs that wound their way up to the Headmaster's office. Snape hurried onward.

The Potions Master banged on the door three times with his fist, not bothering with the clumsy knocker. "Enter," came the gentle yet commanding voice of Albus Dumbledore.

The headmaster's office was a large circular room with many windows and many portraits of old headmasters and headmistresses. All the previous occupants of the room were asleep in their pictures. Some sat regally on comfy armchairs, and some were lopsided with drool hanging down from their open mouths. This was perfectly normal, given the late hour. Gathered about the room were a number of spindly tables upon which were set delicate looking silver instruments that whirred, and emitted small puffs of smoke, as well as an incredible collection of books which made up Dumbledore's private library. His Pensieve sat in a wardrobe against the wall. Fawkes the phoenix dozed with his head under one wing on his stand by the Headmaster's desk.

Albus Dumbledore lounged comfortably behind his desk. He looked exhausted. His eyes drooped with heavy shadows and wisps of his white hair stuck out at odd angles under his pointed hat. He looked up as Snape entered the room.

"Ah, Severus," he greeted, standing and coming around the desk to face the other man. "We were just discussing your imminent arrival."

Snape looked around. He had not noticed Alastor Moody standing in the corner. The Auror was having a whispered but intent conversation with one of the portraits on the wall.

"Headmaster," Snape began, "there is something I think you should see."

At that moment, Moody came over and interrupted. "Rona tells me she was taken in broad daylight in the middle of a crowded street. Somewhere near Devon. The Muggles ran for help, but it was too late. She was already gone. Damned Death Eaters Apparated."

"Yes, I thought as much," Dumbledore replied. "The Ministry will try to hush it all up, as usual. We've already had to cancel the Triwizard Tournament, and now this. Did you know that the Department of Magical Transportation has three Portkeys from the Cup locked up in a cellar somewhere? They still don't know what went wrong, besides the fact that all the Portkeys were interconnected and took everyone who touched them to the same place. But that place obviously was not the grounds of the Quidditch World Cup. So now they claim that three of the Portkeys were not used and they have them locked up for analyzation. It's quite ridiculous."

Snape stopped what he had been going to say. It wasn't like Dumbledore to insult the Ministry so openly. He was always very polite and considerate. The fact that he was losing his patience was only more proof of the toll the past few weeks had exacted on all of them.

Another knock sounded at the door. Minerva McGonagall didn't even bother to wait for permission before she was pushing her way inside. She was drenched and flapping her hands. Snape had never seen the woman so wound up, and he wondered briefly why she hadn't bothered to dry herself off with her wand. "Professor Dumbledore, the Aurors have found her. Dead in a ditch, by the sound of it. They were too late to catch the Death Eaters, I'm afraid."

"This just gets worse as the night goes on," Dumbledore said. He strode over to the desk and snatched a quill and a bit of parchment, scrawling a letter haphazardly. The three of them stood in silence as the Headmaster walked over to his phoenix and stuck the parchment inside the small tube that was tied about his talon. Dumbledore whispered something in his ear before Fawkes simply exploded in a flash of light. A single phoenix feather drifted to the floor.

"Now that that's done," Dumbledore turned back to regard them. "Severus, I believe you wanted to show me something?"

In response, Snape rolled up the sleeve of his left arm, exposing the tattoo of a skull devouring a snake that was imprinted on his forearm. The serpent writhed on his arm, and feathers of smoke rose from the tattoo. Moody stamped his clawed foot, his magical eye whirring incessantly.

"You know what this means, Headmaster," Snape said. "I have to go."

Dumbledore abruptly slammed a fist down on his desk. McGonagall jumped slightly. "This makes no sense," he fumed. "The only way Lord Voldemort could return is with Potter's blood, and nobody knows where Harry is. Where any of them are, for that matter. Hundreds of witches and wizards, gone. And on top of that, she's taken. Why her? The same blood, yes, but not the same magical properties. It's possible her blood could restore Voldemort's body, but he would be far from the height of his power. For that, he would need Harry."

"I understand this," Snape said. "It makes no more sense to me than it does you. But I have to believe what my eyes tell me."

"So do us all," Dumbledore said. "Go then, Severus. I expect you back before the night is done. Go and determine why Petunia Dursley was killed this day."

Author's Note: Thanks for reading! Please be sure to leave any comments or questions you may have. Check out my profile for a list of my other FFs. ~Denmar