The first order of business: I own nothing pertaining to Harry Potter, J. K. Rowling is in charge.

Second, I have not attempted to write fanfiction in a long time, I did have an account some time ago with a few stories posted, but I deleted them because of a flamer and the fact I was a fourteen year old girl. There were many more positive reviews, but I had felt I had lost track of my main story, which if memory serves to be correct was called "The Life I Once Lived". Anyway, I took the very basic core of that story (and I mean basic, like one fact remains the same) and revitalized it into this one.

Third, I tend to be a bit meticulous about research, and I am trying to make this story as accurate as possible, based on both the canon J. K. Rowling has set up and the historical accounts of the time. Obviously, there will be some artistic license, and if you have questions I will do my best to explain them in the next chapters. Now, even though I do my best to research, there is a fair amount I have to come up with on my own. I may draw upon fanfiction that I read years ago rather subconsciously. If you feel credit is due to someone else for a particular idea, please let me know. I probably will not remember reading the story and it was certainly not my intention, but there you go.

Warnings: There are times when this may become a bit gory. Also, there are going to be references to suicide and child abuse. I'm not going to make it extremely graphic, but all the same. I'll try and give a heads up about particular chapters.

Additional Notice: I have way too many footnotes., and the formatting isn't what I'd like on them, but such is life. I'm really fanatical about research. I had like two pages of notes at the end of this chapter so you can skip that if you don't want to know all the details. I include them though because I think it's interesting to have background information. Also, not Beta'd, all mistakes my own. Tell me about them if you see them!

So I think that's everything that needs to be said at this moment. If you have any questions feel free to ask. On with the story!

Chapter 1: The End of the Beginning

Truthfully, I can no longer see it amongst my bitter regrets. What happened to the joy in the world? We were children once, so long ago; bright and carefree and too young to become so tarnished by the grip of war. War after war came, or perhaps it was the same war, raging unchecked for a thousand ages, from the beginning of all things unto the ending of the world. The blood was always the same, and the faces were always too young. Pain and betrayal and all-consuming hate were always there, spewing forth just as much as the blood on the battlefield.

I will admit, looking down at my hand where moments before it gripped an ornate dagger, this was the last thing I expected. There was supposed to be poison running through my veins, blood dripping from my wrist, and a stone floor beneath me. I felt drained and disoriented; my life force was considerably weakened, which was both my greatest relief and utmost agony at once. After all it meant I had succeeded in my plans. However, what had me confused was that through the dim lighting I was looking at a thin bony wrist with slight bruising, but definitely no sign of a cut.

The place I was in was familiar in a sort of foreign way. I remembered being here long ago, but the memory was hazy and unclear. As my eyes adjusted further I spied a single broken toy soldier in a dusty corner. I looked around and saw a few of his fallen comrades in the opposite corner next to a bottle of bleach. With a swoop of realization, I remembered where I was. No, it couldn't be possible! Why, after everything, would I be here again?

"Get up! Get up! Now Boy!" came shrilly through the door.

Perhaps I should start at the beginning. Then again, this sort of was the beginning, wasn't it?

A very long time ago, nearly a thousand years, a man walked into a small stone building towards the very end of the alley. He was here for a meeting with the Goblins; they were close friends of his and allowed him shelter in this bank and archive from time to time. Despite all the benefits of keeping a bank account, very few of the Wizarding community had accepted the Goblin initiative. Most people mistrusted the very idea of storing their money and precious heirlooms outside the home, and the fact that the keepers were not human put them off even further. Thankfully, he had no such qualms

"The arrangements have been made then?" he asked of the Master Goblin.

"Indeed, though I wish that you might reconsider. You bring us great wealth, Wizard." replied the wizened Goblin. The Man*1 knew that the Goblin meant more than tangible riches when he gave his response. He smiled gently, once you were a Friend of the Goblin Nation, they became very protective and loyal. This particular Goblin he had known for quite some time, and the two had immense respect for each other. Though the Goblin had a scholarly look about him, he was as agile as any hunting predator. If one looked closely they would see prowess the Goblin had gained as a result of wielding twin Bladbochts*2, slightly curved weapons rather like the szablas, or sabres, of East Europe and even further into the continent of Asia.

"No, I must do this, it is the only way. Her continued security and prosperity is all that matters, for she guards something far more precious than gold." The Man answered, looking determined. The Goblin sighed; he knew there was no changing the Wizard's mind now. The Man had not been this alight and resolved on reaching a goal for a very long time, or perhaps this goal was not accompanied by the same feverish attempt and subsequent failures. It struck the Goblin as ironic that now, at the end of his days, the Man was more alive than he had been for two decades.

"But you mean to sleep eternally tonight?" the elder Goblin pressed, looking concerned for the only Wizard that he would willingly call Friend. They had fought together both on the battlefield and on the political courts, and despite it all this Man had remained as selfless as the day they first met. This was the basis of his parting gift, the Goblin knew, the Man's final sacrifice for the well-being of others.

"Yes, I do. I want to thank you for your friendship and confidence. I fear I would not have fared even half as well without your guidance." Passersby might think this a rather unemotional response, but it was the custom of the Goblins to say private goodbyes first, and then say the formal goodbye, in an attempt to ease the passing of an individual. It was to this custom the Man had held, though it had dragged on for longer than the typical farewell. The Goblin had known this day was coming for years, had counted on losing a Friend. Despite this, he was reluctant to say goodbye to the Man.

"You have brought our Nation more wealth than we thought possible. We should be the ones thanking you." another Goblin said softly, stepping over to join the two. This Goblin was dressed in fine cloth, and had an aura of confidence that spoke about his years of wisdom. The Man, upon seeing the second Goblin, bowed.

"None of that, you are a Friend. Unlike those other Wizards," the second Goblin scowled briefly at the thought of the others, before softening slightly and continuing "you have no need to bow to me. "

"I will miss you" smiled the Man, though it was tinged with sadness. He glanced outside, it was growing dark. It was very nearly time for him to go. He turned to the Goblins, seeing the same expression of sad understanding on each face (though perhaps most Humans would not be able to see anything but an indifferent mask).

"I need to leave, the moon rises before long." He paused when he reached the doors, held back by concerns and memories of the past. The Man hesitated, before turning back to the two Goblins who stood silently watching. He opened his mouth to speak but before he could get the words out the Goblins had answered his questions.

"Do not worry; we shall always endeavor to protect her in her times of need. No harm will be able to come to her on our watch. " the second Goblin said, taking advantage of the Man's pause.

"Her vaults will never cease to flow, you have my solemn oath that the children shall be provided for." the first Goblin added.

"Thank you both, my Friends. There are few others I would trust the school to." the Man replied. He was touched, truly, that they had known his greatest fears and had assuaged them. He placed his fist over his heart and then extended his arm, his palm facing up*3. This gesture was the highest form of respect in the Goblin Nation, and the Goblins returned it with practiced grace. With that, the Man turned on his heel and left. Both Goblins knew that they would never see him again.

"He truly means to sacrifice himself to protect the school?" the second Goblin stated more than asked of the first.

"Of course, you know how he is Ragnuk, he loves those children dearly. He would do anything for them. I suspect he also wishes to keep his friends safe too, despite all that occurred between them." The elder Goblin sighed. The Man had far too many burdens in his life, and the betrayal of his friends was one among many.

"I never did like them much, especially that red-haired menace. He stole my sword!" Ragnuk spat. Then he quieted, and his next words were somber. "We have lost someone of great value this day, and so has the world. I hope that one day they will see that. Now, I don't know about you Grignott, but I would like a drink."

"Let's go to my office then." Gringott motioned. He paused by the main doors a moment. The poem inscribed there had been a subject of interest by the one that had just left. Once, upon asking what about the poetic warning had enthralled him so, the Man had said jokingly that he would be in dire need of the reminder in the future. The Goblin never could quite figure out what he meant by that after all these years. That particular Wizard would have nothing to fear, for he could never be a stranger to the Goblin Nation after all that had transpired.

"Goodbye Salazar, old friend." he whispered. "May you find more peace than you had in life."

The man, upon taking leave of the two Goblins, appeared silently in rocky area outcrop the foothills of a great mountain range. He walked along, idly taking in the sights of the place that he had come to call home. His cave was in a mountain that had some five years ago become the edge of three kingdoms, upon the division of the Kingdom of Navarre. One would think that there would be more traders with this confluence, but he had so far remained undisturbed, a fact for which he was eternally grateful.

Reaching his destination, a heavily warded cavern where he had lived for the better part of a decade, he let out a sigh of relief. Now he could finally finish his preparations, he had worked so long for this day. The cave was Spartan, what little he hadn't put into the Vaults of the Goblins he placed in a warded trunk tied his person by blood Magick*4. He hurried into a makeshift potions lab, and there gathered up the simmering potion and necessary components for what he was about to do. He took one last look around the cave where he had fashioned himself a living, and satisfied that everything was in order, vanished without a sound.

He reappeared on the eastern slope of Beínn an' t-Samhainn, The November Mountain*5. It overlooked the grounds of Hogwarts Castle, where his heart truly remained even after all these years. From the first time he saw the majestic castle at age 11, to rebuilding it from ruins and war twice, to being exiled from it, to this point now, nothing had seemed to him more perfect. He was home, and this time he wouldn't be leaving.

Shaking himself out of his reverie, he began to set up around the perimeter of the wards. He had no time to waste, and began his race through the forest, finding the great Wardstones and carving into them a series of runes he had devised specifically for this purpose. He drew on all the knowledge he had gained from his mentors and the Goblins, along with a fair few of his own discoveries too, to set up this project. The foundations were laid years ago, but that was before he was evicted from the castle. He silently berated himself, he needed to focus now; he dwelled on the past for far too long. Once he had finished carving the runes, he traced them again in his own blood.

Now came the most difficult part, he needed to sneak into the castle itself. He stood again on Beínn an' t-Samhainn, this time scanning the grounds for any who might see him and sound the alarm. Most of the students would likely be inside enjoying a feast if they had not been tucked into bed already. Not the ones who ran the castle though, he was sure they would have extra precaution tonight. It was October 31, and they would be waiting for him. He would need to be fast if his plan were ever to succeed.

He Apparated into the castle right in front of the offices that were guarded by a pair of gargoyles, which gave him a suspicious look as soon as he appeared. As soon as he landed he threw up a slew of Wards that would not affect his ritual in any way. Then he began to draw the outlines of the runes onto the stone floor and the walls. The Gargoyles by this point had alerted the others of his presence, but he couldn't afford any distractions. He removed the potion which until this point had been in magical stasis, and added a tuft of Thestral hair, willingly given. This turned the potion a brilliant white, and he had to close his eyes for a moment against the sudden onslaught of light. He could hear footsteps, and he hurried to finish before they stopped him.

He gripped his favorite dagger (coated with an anti-coagulant and a slow-acting poison) and made a shallow slice across his wrist, letting it drip into the potion. As the blood mixed into the potion, it shifted to a molten silver color. There were hexes being thrown at the barriers he had set up, and he accidently sliced his fingers on the dagger after a particularly harsh assault. Unheeding of the pain, he dipped his hand into the potion, and the silver and red mixed together as he traced over the runes he had drawn. The potion could no longer change with the addition of the extra blood; he had made it resistant to any form of altering once it was completed.

A woman screamed at him, but he paid her no mind. He finished tracing the runes and stood, pushing a little magic into the barriers that were left standing. Of the five he had quickly established, only two stood now between him and them. He began to chant, pouring the rest of the potion around his feet as an anchor to the castle. He willed the runes he had traced around the perimeter to respond, to be linked by the blood flowing in his veins. A ward fell down, one left now, but he couldn't stop the ritual to fight them off.

He willed his life to sink into the ground and seep into the water, to permeate the air and filter through the trees. He begged the castle to accept him in this, and as he began to feel the stone beat in time to his heart, he felt the last ward fall. With a final push of magic, the life of one Wizard was forfeit, but he was not completely lost, for he lived on in the very core of Hogwarts, and he went on protecting her with his magic and life.

There was a flaw in this plan though, and as the ritual had made the castle a sentient being she was the first to spot it, and the one to eventually take advantage of it. The others had not noticed a single set of runes set on the cardinal points of the circle surrounding the man, and that would eventually lead them once again on the paths of destiny. In their haste, they had forgotten the principle rule of rituals is to never interfere, and indeed they thought they hadn't. They had arrived too late to stop the man after all. Just after the final ward protecting the man fell, and just before the ritual was complete, a foot fell just so as to slightly smear the rune.

None of the three could be much bothered to look at the single broken rune though, for they were staring at the corpse in the middle of the hallway. There lie Salazar Slytherin, Founder of Hogwarts Castle. More than that though, there lie Salazar Slytherin, a friend whom they had not accepted as he accepted them, a friend whom they banished for seeking alternative means of protection, a friend whom they betrayed without thought. A friend they hadn't seen in years, and would now never make amends to.

"He truly was the greatest of the Hogwarts Four." A woman dressed in blue whispered as she surveyed the area, quickly taking in that the ritual was designed to protect Hogwarts with his life. She was crying silently, trying her hardest to deal with the situation first and deal with the grief later, but all she could feel was numbness down to her core. Her husband, a tall red haired man dressed in red, came up beside her and drew her into a hug. He looked lost, and he hesitated briefly before speaking his farewell.

"We do not deserve it Sal, but if you could find it in your heart to forgive us. We forgave you a long time ago for what happened, it was never your fault. You just had bad luck and timing in things, but you've had a knack for finding trouble since the day we met. Please Salazar, go in peace. You deserve it more than anyone." his face was shadowed by the moonlight, set still as stone and aged far beyond his years. His eyes came to rest on the body and he sighed.

A third person, a ginger woman with yellow robes, sat catatonic near Salazar. She blindly reached out to touch his face, and then with a scream that startled the other two, she began hurtling hexes toward the wall, tears streaming down her face. The man restrained her while the woman forced a Calming Potion down her throat.

"Oh how we have failed him so." The woman sobbed brokenly, before slipping off into sleep as a result of the potion and emotional exhaustion.

Rowena Ravenclaw had spent weeks secluded in her library, pouring over every second of memory and her tomes in an attempt to recreate the ritual. She began the potion early in December, having collected a sample that night and tested it. Despite her going over the memories numerous times of that night, it was Helga who pointed out the single rune.

"Did you see that? The rune on the end was broken. The entire ritual could have been thrown off! He might be brought back somehow!" Helga said as they left the pensive again after once more revisiting their memories. It was difficult for her to watch this over and over again, so she tended not to focus on Salazar and kept her eyes cast downward.

Rowena and Godric looked at each other, clearly feeling Helga was reaching for a false hope, but decided to humor her anyway. Once more, they entered the memories stored in the pensive, keeping a close watch on the circle of runes this time. Sure enough, they saw the rune altered, a single tiny line becoming lost as the edge of Godric's boot came down upon it. They withdrew slumping into conveniently placed chairs, and each remained silent for a time, before Godric spoke quietly.

"The rune was Oak, and by stepping I transformed it into Ash*6. I am no expert on Runes, I only know the names. What could this mean?"

"It means, it means…" Rowena trailed off, fetching set of parchment rolls from a corner and plonked them down upon the desk, shuffling through them until she had found what she was searching for.

"Oak is a symbol of purity, nobility, and strength. I would guess that Salazar must have anchored the layers of protection to this rune to make them last. Ash is…" Rowena looked up, tears in her eyes.

"Ash is associated with renewal, or resurrection. In theory, he could still be alive." Rowena let this statement sink in for the others, and continued on her own line of thoughts. She grabbed a fresh sheaf of parchment and began to scribble out the formation before and after the rune was altered. The others watched in silence as she worked frantically, mumbling under her breath as was often the case when she got like this. They knew better than to interrupt her. She finished and looked up at Godric and Helga, smiling triumphantly.

" I think he may have been saved. It is actually very likely, considering everything." Rowena stated. They might have a shot at seeing their friend again if her guesses were correct!

"How could it have though? There are perhaps a hundred runes in this circle, and many Oak and Ash scattered throughout. I've used those runes before to keep nightmares away from children*6, where you place them does not much affect the outcome of the ritual as long as the number remains relatively balanced. That's why I can use that ritual for my little cubs; it's one of the few runic rituals I'm adept in. Why would altering one rune save him?" Godric hated to be the voice of doubt, but he could hardly dare to believe that there was still a chance that Salazar was alive after all.

"Look, the rune altered was outside the two rings, on one of the four points. Altering those runes affects the whole scheme very drastically*7. Thankfully Oak and Ash are both protective runes, and as you said rather interchangeable. But still, Ash gives us the hope of Life." Rowena replied. The silence seemed to last forever, but eventually the spell was broken as Helga stood,

"I'm going after him." Helga said defiantly, a fire burning in her eyes.

" We don't know if this ritual will actually work..." Rowena began.

"I am going after him, Rowena, with or without help. No force on this earth will be able to stop me or change my mind! Is that understood?" Helga had raised her voice, and the land surrounding the castle seemed to quake in anger. Realizing this, she restrained herself, and looked once more to her friends.

"I've spent too long a time away from him. I betrayed him and my heart for so long. I cannot simply let this opportunity pass by. If I linger I will surely die of grief, I cannot bear to lose him without trying just once more to find him again. Please." her voice cracked on the last word, and Godric and Rowena looked at each other, silently coming to a decision.

Rowena glanced out the window, it was snowing outside. The weather had been unusually warm. The first flakes would come just in time for Christmas too. Nobody deserved to suffer during Christmas. She and Godric had circled around to face Helga. They raised their wands.

"Obliviate."

Hogwarts was a battlefield; the raiders had come once again. Despite the protective Magick on the castle, the invaders managed to find a way in; the unrelenting tide of forces was beginning to take its toll even on the Founders. Even with the aid of Hogsmede, many had already been lost, giving them little hope to cling to. Even the students joined the fray, and those that were too young to fight had been hidden in the dungeons and given the task of preparing medical supplies. There was one young student however who had decided he would be more help fighting outside the confines of the dungeons.

Haldor Hufflepuff, grandson of Helga Hufflepuff, was thirteen. He was perfectly capable of taking care of himself, he had trained with his grandmother and Godric and Rowena for some time now; he could handle himself in battle! They would not take his school, nor hurt his family! He hid behind a pillar, quietly shooting off spells on the wizards who dare come in uninvited. Distracted as he was, he didn't notice the shadow behind him, and jumped as a hand fell on his shoulder. Startled, he whirled around to see Cenhelm Sauvage, his Potions instructor. Haldor relaxed slightly, he knew he could trust his professor

Cenhelm Sauvage was a unique man. One would not expect to see someone so loud and so brash become the Head of Slytherin House after the quiet and enigmatic Founder was exiled. However, despite appearances he was trusted implicitly by not only the Slytherins, but the whole school, as a counselor and confidant. They knew it was him who got rid of Hankerton Humble, who was the previous caretaker and Head of Slytherin House. Nobody knew what happened to the man, but it was rumored that and Salazar Slytherin himself had taken it upon themselves to dispose of the man that was secretly abusing the students. From that day since, he had been the Slytherin Head, and had an extremely sharp and perceptive mind underneath all of his chaotic behavior.

"What brings you out of the shelter of the dungeons, Haldor?" the man asked, casually flicking his wand at a knot of invaders nearing the front doors and throwing them against a wall.

"I want to fight! I've been training, I can help!" Haldor exclaimed heatedly, sending a rock towards another wizard and tripping him into a spell sent by his professor. Sauvage had cut the man's arm off. Haldor's eyes widened and Sauvage caught his attention.

"A battlefield is no place for you young one, leave the killing to the adults today. Go and protect the students. They just might need you yet, should the defenses be overcome. Go, Haldor, quickly!" Cenhelm Sauvage had shouted the last of this, catching sight of a break in the line of the defenders. The invaders, Vindicators*8 by name, surged forth. Cenhelm pushed Haldor back towards the doors of the castle, paused to make sure the child had actually left, and then rushed towards the incoming soldiers.

"Good to see your fighting skills haven't waned any, My Lady." Cenhelm called, smirking as the disheveled but otherwise unharmed Helga Hufflepuff appeared on his right, pushing back the forces with him.

"Nor yours, Sauvage." Helga panted beside him, loosing another volley towards the invaders. She had just chased down a number of Wizards that had decided sneaking around to the back of the castle would be a better tactic for breaking in.

"There are too many of them, at this rate they'll be in the castle by the end of the hour." Helga hissed to Cenhelm as they stood back to back, striking down any that got too close.

"Then let's give them something to remember us by." Cenhelm grinned at her, and as one they turned and ran directly at the enemy.

Arrows came whistling through the trees, the Centaurs had arrived to protect the school. Some came galloping through the fray, slashing through the dark army while the archers covered them behind. At the same time a battle cry rose up as legions of Goblin Warriors appeared on the shores of the lake. Fiercely they threw themselves into battle, swords and hammers and axes meeting flesh and armour on the field. In particular, the invading forces were cut down in a wide swath around a single Goblin with two Bladbochts.

"Where is he?" Rowena asked Godric, scanning the grounds for the leader of the Vindicators. She raised her hands in a sweeping motion and fierce winds whipped out against the army, relieving them of wand and sword. She was careful to let her magic affect only the enemy.

"I don't know, but I have a feeling something else is going on." Godric murmured as he sent flames towards a particularly dense knot of the invaders. A loud crack interrupted further conversation, the stone wall was beginning to crumble, and fighters were rushing into the castle. Godric leapt into action, sending a wave of magic at the entrance before turning back to Rowena.

"You alright out here?" he inquired, looking at her. They knew that even with the reinforcements it would take a miracle to save them.

"Of course, Beloved. Go get them." Rowena kissed his cheek before turning back into the battle and striking down the enemies with force. Godric had already made it to the damaged part of the wall, and was taking down most of people trying to breach Hogwarts. Neither looked back.

Hogwarts was doing her best to keep out the nasty people that wanted to hurt her children. The Magick that Salazar had used was extremely useful. Most of it was making sure the students in the dungeons were completely undetectable, but it was working to weaken the invaders and strengthen the magic cast by the protectors. They were outnumbered, and Hogwarts knew this, and she was afraid.

There were people wandering her halls, and they were too close to the dungeons. They would find her children! She shifted to protect them as best she could. She put all other distractions out of her mind. The others roaming her corridors would be taken care of soon enough, she knew. One man did draw her attention. He was alone, and evil. He was headed towards Salazar's hidden chambers. How did this man know where they were? She was about to see what this man was doing when she was drawn back to the dungeons. The enemies were trying to knock down her walls! No! She focused all her efforts into maintaining the walls and forcing back the ones that attacked her children.

The man slipped into the Chamber of Secrets unnoticed. He had important business that needed to be done. His fool of a father was too weak, too much in love with the half-wits and Muggle lovers that ran this school. In all, he was glad that his father was dead, but regretted that he was not the one to do it. The old man had killed himself, he knew. Most likely in one of his grand schemes to save people. Ridiculous. The man continued through the chamber until he got into the main chamber.

He located a hidden entryway between the pillars halfway into the chamber. He dared not go to the end, where the Basilisk resided. That stupid serpent would be loyal to his father only, he knew. At least he had managed to put it to sleep the last time he was here. He also got rid of that carving of the Hogwarts crest above the snake's entrance. Now it was a much better carving of his mentor's visage, as an honor for the wizard. A year after he had completed the carving his mentor had been killed by his father. No, Salazar Slytherin was his father by blood only. His mentor had been his true father.

Sylvester Slytherin never forgave, and he never forgot. He smiled grimly and began to work. He would leave his legacy here so that one day his children might finish the work he started. He doubted the Founders themselves would be able to track him down now. They would never reach his children, and they could never be rid of his legacy.

Even the bravest warriors would have shrunk away in fear at the manic laughter echoing in the chamber. As it were, the man was alone in the Chamber and left to cackle at his discretion. That is, until an explosion rocked the core of the castle, and the man had decided he had lingered long enough. He resealed the Chamber on his way out, emerging into the empty corridor.

"Retreat! Back into the castle!" Helga cried as another explosion shook the earth. Goblins and Wizards alike swarmed inside the stone walls while the Centaurs stayed outside and slew many who tried to get into the doors. Rowena was sweeping through the corridors of the lower floors, and Godric was defending the hole blasted into the wall near the Transfiguration room.

Helga tore through the crowds, being careful not to catch her allies in her warpath. She threw a dagger into the eye of a man that was about to curse one of the older students. The boy, a Ravenclaw in his Seventh Year, gave her a grin of thanks. Distracted, she didn't almost notice the body hurtling towards her; she sidestepped quickly, but slipped on a pool of blood.

"Careful, my Lady. The floors are a wee bit slick tonight. We'll need a mop later." Cenhelm teased as he prevented her from falling with a steadying hand on her elbow. She knew humor was the way he dealt with stressful situations, and did not begrudge him for making jokes at a time like this.

"You can start on that right away once we've gotten rid of these vermin." she parried quickly, and she caught his grin as he spun around to face a new foe.

Rowena and Godric met at the wall that had been blasted in. The area was thick with people, but it seemed to be more defenders than enemies at this point. Rowena quickly levitated the rubble around the area to fill in the gap, while Godric took care of any remaining Vindicators still inside the castle. Through the window, they could see most of the Vindicators heading towards the front doors. Rowena reinforced the area with her magic, and then turned to Godric.

"It looks like they've abandoned this spot and reconvened at the front with the rest of their fighters." Rowena said wearily.

"Yes, let's get to the Great Hall and give the others a hand, shall we?" Godric smiled briefly at his wife before they both ran down the corridors, eager to drive out the Vindicators for good. It wasn't long before they reached the main throng of fighting, and they once again launched themselves into battle, determined to protect that which they held most dear.

Sylvester Slytherin was always one to take opportunities when he saw them. He had chanced upon a lone student wandering around, seemingly trying to help in the fighting somehow. Oh, and this child would be the Founders undoing. Salazar had been this boy's protector the last time the youngster had met with the Vindicators, Sylvester knew. He moved his wand violently, and ahead the boy fell to the ground screaming. He took his pleasure for a few moments before immobilizing the young wizard and levitating him towards the Great Hall and the heavy fighting.

A hush fell over the battleground inside the castle as Sylvester Slytherin came into view with a young boy floating at his side. Helga turned to see what had caused the fighters to go suddenly silent and her heart stopped. Sylvester Slytherin, immaculate and standing proud, was grinning insanely. He had captured a student. Someone she knew very well.

"Haldor! NO!" Helga screamed, looking at the man who had her grandson in his grip, a knife at the boy's throat.

Godric and Rowena looked at the leader of the Vindicators trembling with anger. How dare he threaten their students, their family? Helga quickly moved over to join them, looking equal parts wrath and fear. They could only watch as he moved into the center of the Hall, protected by his allies and unable to be fired upon because of the young boy immobile in his grip. He ran a hand across Haldor's cheek and pressed a kiss to his temple, before turning to face the Founders.

"Hear my terms, or this precious boy here will pay the price." Sylvester drawled, emphasizing the threat by pressing the knife into Haldor's throat enough to draw a thin line of blood.

"It is hardly our practice to negotiate with a man who spreads terror across the land." Godric looked at him condescendingly. Salazar had pounded political tactics into his head for years, and Godric was certain Sylvester had inherited his charm, for he could hardly have remained leader of the Vindicators had he not. Unfortunately for them Salazar's heart and compassion had not also been passed along. Sylvester Slytherin was an intelligent and charming man, and that made him all the more dangerous.

"You would rather the boy die then, than simply listen to me for but a moment?" asked Sylvester in a faux innocent tone. Yes, Godric thought, he certainly is capable of putting on a show.

"I would rather you leave us in peace, but we cannot always have what we desire, now can we?" Godric replied tersely after a moment. He would have to be very careful in how he played this little verbal spar out, or Haldor could die. He wished Salazar was here to advise him, though he was unsure about how well the Founder would have fared against his son in this battle. Salazar would have had too much heart in him to believe that there was no good left to salvage in Sylvester Godric mused, which is probably why he chose to stay away from the Vindicators for so long.

"Indeed, I should think not. Surrender the castle and I will allow you and all the others to leave unharmed. I shall not actively pursue you, and you could have your peace." Sylvester proposed. The Founders could definitely see Salazar in him, but it was twisted and warped by darkness. It wasn't the same darkness that Salazar had worn wrapped around him, shrouding him and adding an air of mystery to the Slytherin Founder. Sylvester had a blackness that seemed to permeate his very core, and the Founders came to the conclusion at once that Sylvester would not stop his campaign of terror until he was dead.

" Hmm, but the price for peace? Would you continue to run a school tainted with your vile influence? Would you turn out those sired by Muggle parents, leave them defenseless or worse, kill them? What would be the consequences of your so-called peace?" Godric knew he had to stall for time. He had seen Cenhelm out of the corner of his eye, silently moving into position to take down Sylvester Slytherin from behind. It seemed though, that so had Sylvester, and he motioned for several of his guards to grab Cenhelm.

"Is this how you treat a guest, my Lord and Ladies?" Sylvester asked. One of the wizards holding Cenhelm gasped as a dagger was thrust into his side, courtesy of the struggling professor. Sylvester impassively nodded at the others trying to keep Cenhelm contained, and they quickly and sloppily drew a jagged knife across his stomach, and dropped him as he lay bleeding onto the ground. He managed to kick at one of the guards and knock him off his feet.

"How dare you come into our school, kill our friends, and then make demands of us!" Godric roared, losing his temper with the scum who called himself a revolutionary leader.

"Wrong decision I think, my Lord. You should have been more welcoming to us, if only for the children's sake." Sylvester drawled condescendingly. With casual disregard he pressed the knife deeper into Haldor's neck. The Founders tensed.

"I think I shall give you time to reconsider. I will leave you with two parting gifts, shall I?" Sylvester smiled and dragged the knife across the boy's throat before turning to leave, the rest of the Vindicators following their leader. A few small skirmishes broke out again as Rowena and Helga rushed to Haldor and Cenhelm. Godric ran after Sylvester, chasing him past the moonlit grounds and nearly into the forest. He almost had a clear shot…

"Sectumsempra!" he cried, and watched the leader crumple to the ground. The rest of the Vindicators scurried away from their fallen leader in their haste to get away from the wrath of Godric Gryffindor. He spent a few moments gazing down at the man, who lay slowly bleeding into the grass. Godric shook his head; he looked eerily like Salazar had after an incident in the sparring grounds once. He released a killing curse and then set the body alight in quick succession. It was only after the flames died down and he had calmed a bit that he remembered what happened in the Great Hall. He cursed and sprinted back to the castle.

Rowena met him at the doors, and gave him a hug so strong that he almost feared for the state of his ribs. She had been crying.

"Cenhelm was dead by the time we got to him. Haldor…Haldor was alive, but we couldn't save him. I found traces of a blood thinning potion in his system, along with a spell that would resist all magical attempts at healing." Rowena said quietly.

How did it all come to this? Godric thought numbly as he and Rowena went back inside to begin burying the dead and cleaning the halls of the remnants of battle.

And so it was the New Year began bathed in blood.

Helga Hufflepuff kneeled alone in the Great Hall with a bucket of hot soapy water and a worn rag. This blood will never wash away she thought as she scrubbed. Her hands were rubbed raw, and they cracked and stained the water crimson as she rinsed the rag in the water. This blood will never wash away, this blood will never wash away, will never wash away, will never, never…

"Never, Never, Never, Never, Never."

She never noticed the two figures hidden in the shadows. They left silently to continue on with their plans. Helga would be furious with them, of course, that they had taken her memories from her. However, seeing her hopeless like this made them realize that they had to try, not only for her sake, but for theirs as well.

Chanting arose from inside the stone corridors. Three focused their powers into the runic circles around them. They had made all preparations for this moment, had been planning it for months.

Three fell lifeless to the ground, taken on Beltane much as their friend had gone on Samhain. Life and Death, being opposite from each other and in essence the same thing, must always come together. With Life there was Death, and so as the Founders died they would live again.

Far into the future, the threads of predetermined paths began to unravel and weave themselves anew, and so it was that their destinies lie within their own hands. Fate no longer had the claim upon them, and it would be the Founders who choose their ultimate end.

Notes (and lots of them too):

1 Tons of capitalized terms in here. Man, Friend, Goblin, and Nation are all capitalized because the context they are being used permits it. With the Goblins, these terms are used as proper names or titles for someone, and so as you would capitalize King when speaking to him but speak of the kings of old so too do the titles come into play. I have capitalized most of the Man and Wizard terms in this sense because the Goblin Grignott is thinking over the years with the Man whilst he is present and therefore is referring to a specific person, hence the capitals.

2 After attempting to, for authenticity's sake, track down the mysterious language of Gobbledegook (which is probably not even the proper name for the language in the tongue of the Goblins, but is what Wizards have termed the language) for words that I could use in this story, I found one. Bladvak, as mentioned by Ludo Bagman, means "pickaxe". So to the ever available Google Translate I went, perhaps not the best source for accurate translations, but it provided what I needed nonetheless. The root of Bladvak, being Blad means blade (among other things) in a number of other languages. Vak meant box in Dutch and Afrikaans, and so it was to them I went to as the basis of the Goblin language, with smatterings of other similar languages (the North Germanic ones: Norwegian, Danish, and Swedish. Dutch and Afrikaans are technically considered West Germanic languages, though North and West share many roots and writing conventions.)

To form words I translated the English term I was thinking of into the various languages, choose the harshest sounding synonyms (usually ones a little further out of use), and if necessary combined the roots of several of the words into new Gobbledegook. In the Goblin tongue Gobbledegook shall actually be called Svartaal (From Swedish Svar, meaning response. Svart in Swedish can mean black, or under–the-table, which is a possible explanation for the origins of the language, an adaptation to keep the authorities or clients unaware of specific dealings. Dutch taal, meaning language). I will provide the meanings of the terms as well as the etymology behind them at the end of each chapter.

Blacbocht – Medium length double sided blade, slightly curved, similar to sabres. They are often wielded in pairs. Gringott prefers the Bladbocht over any other weapon in battle. Blad – blade, North and West Germanic languages. Bocht – curve, Dutch.

3 I actually got this gesture from a Star Trek episode. In season 2 episode 11 (Friday's Child) of The Original Series, Doctor McCoy makes this gesture as a sign of respect to the Capellans. He says "We come with open hearts, and hands" when he makes the gesture. The Capellans are a war-like group of people, and so I thought the gesture seemed fitting, as Goblins seem more war-like at least in the books, though this notion could easily arise from poor Goblin-Wizard relations. If you want to Netflix the scene it occurs within the first 3 minutes of the episode. I tried looking for it via Youtube, but I couldn't find the scene. You could also go here watch_episode/_1kxRrzFBStv as long as you don't mind sitting through the possible advertisements. Don't mind the cheesiness of the costumes and sets either, remember it was made in the late 60's with an extremely low budget.

4 Magick, merely a deliberate archaism, will be used to represent the old and powerful spells and protections and charms, as opposed to what most Wizards use daily, which is magic. Magick will be closely associated with the Hidden Arts (called in the future Dark Arts, for their roots in sacrifice) and the natural energies of the land.

5 Beínn an' t-Samhainn is actually a place on Loch Shiel (which featured as the Black Lake in the films) I used this . /place/Gaskan_Wood_in_Highland_292611_ to determine where everything was. Hogwarts castle is sort of located between the two sets of trees and near the lake. If you trace down from Glenaladale you will find the bare patch of land, or if you zoom in it is right where Torr a' Choit is located. Quite a few of the trees had to have been trimmed away in the future, and the small stream that you can see if you zoom in (Next to the Jetty and Camas Cròm) is actually the tunnel that leads under the castle in the Philosopher's Stone. Almost directly across from the mouth of the Glenaladale River is Rubha Allt na Slabhruidh, and it is on that outcropping of land that Hogsmede will be placed.

The shape of the lake is more artistic. Loch Shiel is really too big for the story to work (the carriages would have to go an awfully long way to get to Hogwarts without crossing water. So for convenience sake the castle is very near to the western edge of the lake, and the carriages go through a small part of the Gaskan Wood and past Beínn an' t-Samhainn to get to the school, crossing over the Glenalade River with a bridge, which is a much more likely scenario. J. K. Rowling drew the Black Lake relatively small in her map, so that's what I went with.

The position of the forest is not consistent with her map (the East), but rather the fact that the sun set directly over the forest in the Philosopher's Stone, placing it west of the castle. The Forbidden forest will extend all along the western side of the castle grounds, but it will be thinned out right next to the lake, so as to allow the safe passage of first years and carriages. The forest to the south could too be considered dangerous, as could the Gaskan Wood. All I think would be considered forbidden, but the actual Forbidden Forest itself, the most dangerous part, is the coniferous section lying just west of the castle.

As for Beínn an' t-Samhainn, the closest (or most fitting) translation I could finds was The November Mountain, Beínn meaning mountain in Scottish Gaelic, and an' t-Samhain (one n only) meaning The November in Irish (via Google translate). I may or may not have twisted it to suit my purposes, but it made me excited, especially since Samhain is the Celtic festival of the dead and the precursor to Halloween. Thus there was the connection to not only the night Harry Potter was attacked by Voldemort, but also the possibility that special rituals involving death should be done on Samhain, for it was when the doors to the Otherworld opened. I've decided that Beínn an' t-Samhainn would have been an important place of Magick, and it is this source that Hogwarts draws upon to sustain the wards. More will come on this subject, and the history of the mountain will be explained in further detail in a few chapters.

6 You can find these runes on Wikipedia here: wiki/Anglo-Saxon_runes, if you look at the runes meaning Oak and Ash you will see they are only a line apart from one to the other. I got the meanings by doing Google searches of the meanings of Oak and Ash (as in the trees) and going from there.

I: Also, Ash is used often in protective rituals because of its natural energies. It was considered a guardian of children and as such used to treat childhood illnesses. I transferred this along to nightmares, a common childhood affliction. People of the time would have blamed evil spirits for them, and so would have likely turned to Ash and its properties in order to protect their children.

7 I don't know very much about runic magic circles to be honest. I made this bit up, but it seems somewhat logical. The image I had in mind was that outside there were four runes at cardinal points and inside two concentric circles of runes. Seems like a pretty big deal if you alter one of the four outermost runes. In my mind at least, it made sense.

8 More information on the Vindicators later on in the story. Just know that in this point in time Sylvester Slytherin, Salazar's son, is their leader. The Vindicators are a cruel and ruthless group, but their history and beliefs will be explored in coming chapters. To vindicate means to justify or free from blame, which is where I got the name.