I found myself in the middle of a rather eclectic office space. It was all cubicles with men and women looking through pages and parchments. There were paper airplanes flying around seemingly on their own accord. Each cubicle had a different set o photos, maps, and objects in them, and all the pictures moved on their own. It was sort of like watching a bunch of movies, none of which had any sound.

I also found myself without a trace of an idea of how I had gotten there. I had very few traces of anything in my mind, and all of it was factual; the sorts of things like names, dates, and a few math facts. I knew I could embroider, or knit, or cook, or build a computer, or any number of other things. But I couldn't tell you how I had learned any of those things. I couldn't go back and remember anything; there wasn't a trace of memory in my mind. Only facts.

I stood up slowly my hair brushing my shoulders. As I stood the sleeves of my shirt stretched, and forced the unfamiliar high collar closer into my throat. As I moved a pin on the colorful suspenders caught my eye. It was a clock shaped like a rose, but seemed to be carved from precious gems. My treacherous mind told me it was called the Ruby Watch and it was created by none other than me. Problem was I couldn't remember how I made, or what it was intended to do.

"Who are you?" A voice asked curiously behind me. It was a middle-aged man. He had dazzling green eyes, and jet black hair, and he smiled pleasantly. His hair half hid a scar across his forehead.

"I'm not entirely sure," I said slowly as my mind tried to work out who I was. It seemed I was never quite sure who I was, because the searching took a lot of effort.

"Oh? What's your name?" The smiling man asked genially.

"Emma. Emma Rose Macay," I answered quickly. Then I had to go back and try to figure out which locked door in my mind had opened to give me this information, but whichever door had opened was now shut as tight has it had every been and I couldn't remember anything more.

"Well, Emma is that all you know?" he asked calmly. He sounded a bit like he was trying to calm a wild animal, which he didn't know whether it was going to attack if he moved. I didn't think it was necessary, but then again, I don't really know anything.

"Yes…Well, no, not really. I know all kinds of things, but I can't remember anything," I told him pulling the collar away from my throat. It was very high and uncomfortable, and I must say it was altogether unpleasant. I had to wonder why I would have ever donned this shirt, because I clearly hated it at this point in time.

"That's unusual, we should probably get you looked at. Come with me while I get my jacket and we can go," he said smiling once more. He started off into the maze of cubicles then turned back, "Stay near me or you'll get lost."

I followed his sedately, not because I trusted him, but because I suddenly had the feeling he didn't trust me. Not only did he not trust me, he had power enough to subdue me. Somewhere my mind insisted that he really couldn't force me to do anything, but I supposed my missing memories were the only thing that could have explained why I thought this. So I assumed that he could subdue me despite the mutterings deep within my mind.

His cubicle was larger than the others and he had a corner of the walls filled with photos of him and a red-haired woman and three children. The girl had red hair, but the boys both had black hair like their father. In all of them they were smiling and laughing. The rest of the spaces on the walls of his cubicle were filled with articles and maps. On his desk were parchment, quills, ink pots, and a variety of little instruments. A glass case held a winged golden ball inside, and an old beat up piece of parchment was tucked underneath it.

He grabbed a black raincoat, and then pulled the beat up parchment out from under the fluttering ball. That he tucked in his back pocket alongside a thin wand of wood.

The man turned and smiled at me noticing me watching his photos in the corner. They were moving and I thought that the younger boy looked pleasant. Okay I'm understating things a little, I admit it. I had an instant crush on him, and if I believed in destiny I would most likely say something about my destiny was to be with him, or some such nonsense. I wish I believed in destiny.

"That's my family," The man said proudly, he pointed to a picture of him and the red-haired woman with the annoyingly fascinating boy, "That's my wife Ginny, and our son Albus. That was taken only a few weeks ago."

"He looks my age," I commented touching the Ruby Watch.

"He just turned 14. Do you know how old you are?" The man had a cunning look in his eyes, but I couldn't find a reason not to answer, despite the fact that it was going against my better judgment.

My last birthday I turned 13, and my birthday is on June 6th," I told him cautiously. Again the door opened briefly to allow me information that was obviously not something I had to learn, but something you simply know after a certain amount of time simply being alive. Perhaps that's why I could be allowed my birthday and name, because they were things I didn't have to remember, but things I simply knew. I hope that theory is right, because I don't have a fallback theory to go on.

"But today is June 6! Is today your 14th birthday then?"

"Yes I suppose it is."

"Then Happy Birthday!" The man said happily before leading me back through the maze of cubicles. At length we reached an elevator and the man hit the button going up. The doors opened a minute later allowing a spill of paper airplanes to zoom out and several more zoom in ahead of us.

A slightly awkward ride ensued. We were silent and there weren't many people who rode the elevator with us, but all of them said something about, "Hello Mr. Potter" or simply "Potter." I supposed his name was something Potter and it began to grate on me that I didn't have an idea what his first name was.

"Sir, you never told me you name," I mentioned at some point. He looked at me completely dumbstruck, as if I should have known who he was without being told.

"I guess it's refreshing sometimes that someone doesn't know my life story," he said with a laugh after a short pause (an extremely awkward pause during which I wondered if I shouldn't have asked), "My name is Harry Potter." He looked expectant, but I didn't know why, so I just looked at him. If anything he looked more confused.

We spent the rest of the trip in silence.

When we reached the ground floor, or as the elevator voice told us "Atrium," Harry led me to a large fireplace in the wall. He tossed a pinch of some powder in and the flames roared green. He then dragged me into the fire and called something loudly.

We were instantly whipped through spins so fast I couldn't see a thing. The sensation was at once sickening and exhilarating. I knocked my elbow on something at some point, and Mr. Potter pulled my arm in tighter to my body, and he held me tight against him. I supposed it could have been very bad if I had hit something more important than an elbow.

We stopped spinning to find a tidy kitchen room and the red-haired woman and the black haired boy my age staring at the fire. As I was still adjusting to the sheer normality of the room the older black haired boy entered.

"I'm home early today," Harry said pushing me gently out of the fireplace. I stumbled a little, the same way you stagger when you stop spinning after going around in circles fast for several minutes. How I knew this comparison I couldn't have told you, I supposed I must have spun around in circles for some reason some time in my past.

"And you brought extras for lunch," Mrs. Potter said with a short laugh. She stood up and lifted two plates down from a cabinet in the corner. At the other end of the room something was cooking, and although I had no idea what it was, it smelled good.

"Yes, this is Emma. She's 14 and that's about all she knows about herself. Today's her birthday," Mr. Potter said sitting down at the table.

"14? I'm 14," Albus cried sounding surprised. I took the chance to get a better look at him. He had green eyes and black hair like his dad. He was very skinny and his clothes looked like they might have been an older brother's before he got them (seeing the older brother I doubted it however, they were close on the same size). On the table in front of him was a book, and it was opened to a page with an illustration of a golden ball like the one that was in Harry's cubicle.

"What's that?" I asked pouncing on the book and pointing to the ball. The boy looked astonished. That astonished face made me wonder what it was that had captivated my attention, he obviously wasn't very interesting.

"It's a snitch of course, what else would it be?"Albus exclaimed.

"And what does it do?"

"It flies around,"

"How?"

"With the wings"

"No how do the wings work?"

"A spell of course. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine thank you. So it uses magic. How do you use magic?"

"What?" I looked at him again. He looked thoroughly confused.

"Sorry, but it's plain knowledge I can't remember learning it, but I know that magic exists in every World in existence, and every World uses it differently, except for the Worlds that ignore the fact that magic does in fact exist." I said pacing staring off away from the people in the room. It was in that moment that I decided I wasn't a people person. I looked towards them again and stopped.

Everyone was staring at me as I stared back at them. Then I was spiraling into blackness invaded only by voices. One of them was mine.

"Time! What are you doing? You should have called it before it could get her! It's all your fault she got hurt!"

"I couldn't, death isn't right for anyone. Besides she almost deserved it the little twit!"

"She's the princess, it's our duty to protect her even if we don't like her."

"No, it's your duty to protect her. My duty was always to learning. I'm a scholar, I'm not a fighter."

"You have a pretty impressive End Game for someone who isn't a fighter,"

"Just because my attack works every time does not mean anything. It's purely luck that I was given the Streams to protect."

"Yes, the Streams give you all kinds of Power don't they?"

"No they don't."

~*~

So hi there, Elizabeth M. Kelli here, I've started this story as a crossover between Harry Potter and some of my other stories. If you don't understand Emma, don't worry you will eventually. I'm actually really fond of Emma because she was originally just supposed to be the cute little girl that my story needed, but she ended up disappearing and I brought her back and she was a whole new person. I suppose she's sort of like Athena (I think it was Athena) coming out of my head fully formed. Emma didn't develop into something like most of my other characters, she just was….well Emma.

I hope you enjoy this, new chapters will be joining it soon enough, and I wanted to show this one to people. Some people who might have already read some of it (my friends and family who I practically shoved this into their aces, I almost feel bad about that), should reread this chapter because I have changed some phrasing and made it more understandable. Well I should go write some more…