Prologue...

Night had fallen. Hogwarts stood sleeping by the gleaming lake, the moon reflecting in the glittering ripples. The castle was dark - term had not yet begun. Only one window was aglow, the light of a dancing fire spilling out into the gloom. Suddenly an owl flew towards the castle, gliding up from the forest. It landed on the windowsill silently and began to listen.

'The time has come.' A man had stood. He wore robes of deepest crimson, and had hair of tarnished gold that fell to his shoulders. He had a noble presence, with courage and strength. He turned to face the fire, staring into the flickering coals. 'We must act.'

A second, a woman spoke; 'The paths are mysterious, Godric.' she said. The roads are shrouded in uncertainty.' This woman had a deep if sinister beauty, with raven black hair that tumbled into curls, and dark eyes that flashed like the sapphires cast about her throat.

'The ways are always hidden, Rowena,' said the crimson clad man - still staring at the flames. 'That,' he turned and let his gaze meet hers; 'is certain.'

'Godric is right. We are running out of time.' This time the speaker was the second woman, with robes of yellow silk. 'And I feel we are almost out of time.'

'Then what must we do?' said the woman named Rowena, 'Must the ancient prophecy be fulfilled?'

A deep and cracked voice answered; 'Yes.'

A hushed silence fell. Fear lay in the very air. The fourth had spoken.

Half hidden in the shadows of the night, a man stood in Emerald velvet. His eyes, usually dark, now glinted with the reddening glow of the embers. 'You know we have no choice. You have always known. The magic is ancient wizardry, laid down long before we took up the mantle of our ancestors. It has been done before. It shall be done again.'

The two women gasped. Godric Gryffindor made no move, but his hand tightened on the hilt of his ruby set sword.

'Godric, -not the prophecy...it can't be!'

'Salazar is right. There can be no other way. Let us hope we live to see the dawn.'

The room fell silent once more, while the fire crackled, sputtered, and died. The owl took flight, as quietly as it had come. He had heard all he needed to know. But unknown to the four, or even to the listening owl, another was hidden in that room. In the darkest corner, behind a faded and threadbare tapestry, there was a boy with jet black hair, deep green eyes, and a lighting bolt scar.

Let me know if you like it, and I'll post the next part!