Godric Gryffindor looked around himself at the newly built castle. Yes, Hogwarts would be a great school, teaching young wizards and witches how to survive in the perilous world of magic.
"Godric!" Salazar Slytherin's cold voice echoed around the high ceiling as he called from the Great Hall "Hurry up, we're going to put the charms on the hat now!"
Gryffindor allowed himself a small shudder at Slytherin's voice. If there was any man Gryffindor did not trust, it was him. There was something about Slytherin; the pompous man whose voice was filled with an icy calm and whose mind worked as fast as Gryffindor's. He could see it now, Slytherin would breed evil, and his descendants would bring about terrible sadness. He would have to do something to prevent the complete abolition of those who were opposed to evil. But what it would be, he did not yet know. He entered the Great Hall to see his colleagues sitting at the head table.
There was Roweana Ravenclaw, a proud looking woman, with gray streaked red hair and a stately roman nose. Her face was unsmiling, and had a lot of character to it. She was not the most beautiful of women, but there was something very appealing in her features that made men and women alike want to befriend her. Sitting next to her was Horatio Hufflepuff, a short bald man whose large grin was withered only by the angry glare he was receiving from Salazar Slytherin, who was sitting beside him. Hufflepuff had a shockingly happy personality, and the tendency to drift off into thought, a habit which greatly annoyed Slytherin. Hufflepuff's face was round and seemed to be very red all of the time. He had a squash shaped nose and kind eyes that shone his good humor from the depth of his soul like lanterns. The man seated next to him was his exact opposite.
Slytherin was lean, and very pale. His black hair was thick and sleek, as if someone had spent much time working on it for him. His beard was well trimmed and immaculate. Green eyes glinted from his cadaverous face, which often held a grimace and rarely held a smile. This man was the picture of calm, but those who knew him could very well see the bubbling passion that dwelled inside his soul. Gryffindor just wasn't sure that the passion was so much benevolent as it was harmful. Then there was himself, an old man, his aureate hair streaked with white, and his face beginning to loose the buoyancy it had had when he was young. He had many laugh lines around his eyes and mouth, but the lines of many hours lost in thought crossed his forehead like the age lines in an old tree. His smile was kind, beneath the faded yellow of his beard, and his eyes sparkled with the same euphoria that his words held.
"Godric, what kept you? We need to do this quickly, before the new headmistress arrives." Slytherin said frigidly as Gryffindor sat down.
"Yes Salazar" Gryffindor replied, his voice filled with calm tension as he brought out his wand. Ever since they're argument about allowing muggle born wizards and witches into Hogwarts, the relationship between himself and Salazar had become much more inimical, and they had spoken as little as possible. Gryffindor did not believe in segregation, and he had finally won out, allowing everyone to attend Hogwarts, not just those of pure blood.
"I shall begin with my house then." Ravenclaw said, taking out her wand to point at the hat lying on the table; a relic once owned by Gryffindor's father. Each of them had created houses for the students to dwell in, because they each favored different qualities in people. They had decided to use the hat to sort them, and had given the patched old thing a personality not dissimilar to that of Gryffindor's father, except for the fact that the hat could see inside the wearers mind. Now all they had to do was tell it what they valued in students. The hat was passed from witch to wizard throughout the next hour. Ravenclaw valued those who were smart and witty, Hufflepuff preferred those who were just and loyal, Slytherin liked the ones of pure blood and cunning, while Gryffindor himself favored almost the same things as Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, but also regarded bravery as rather important. By the time they were done, twilight had fallen, and the enchanted ceiling was dotted with tiny pinpricks of light. The headmistress would be arriving shortly, and the four set about calling up a late tea.
At midnight, Gryffindor awoke from a strange dream. His nighttime apparitions were sometime prophetic, but never had one been so clear in it's meaning. He quickly changed into his robes, and stole away into the very depths of Hogwarts, where a room none other than he knew of was hidden away. It was mostly red and gold, with some somber tapestries hanging on the walls, and a painting of his father over the fireplace. A bookshelf lined with books whose spines were blank lined one of the walls. The books in red leather were Charms, the books in blue leather were Curses, and the books in gold leather were Potions. The ones in black were assorted, and five books in deep green were his personal journals. But Gryffindor had not come down here to red or mull over his dream. Close to the window, a table laden with Potions ingredients sat, and above it, shelves of ingredients hung, as if in anticipation of being used.
Gryffindor took a large black book off of the topmost shelf of the bookcase, and opened it to page 453. This was the spell from his dream. Quickly, the old man set to work, knowing that the spell would take much sweat, and a little blood to complete. When Gryffindor added the final ingredient and left the Potion to simmer, it was well into the afternoon of the next day. He recorded all of his actions into his almost full journal, and returned to his bed. Little did he know that at that time, Slytherin too had been working deep inside the dungeons of the castle, and his work did not have the same goal as Gryffindors. Slytherin's work involved serpents, plenty of blood, and the salty tears of a dying child, and he put little love into his potion. Instead he put in hatred and malice. When he was done, he too returned to his chambers, content that he had created a rather significant obstacle for Gryffindor to overcome.
Three years later, Gryffindor was finishing his Potion, using the last of his energy to send a tiny ball of hope out into the world. This, he knew, was the only hope of survival for the muggle race. If he had failed, he had left a nation to die. Afterwards, he returned to his chambers, and fell into a deep sleep from which he would never again awaken.
A/N Alright, this is Chapter one/Prologue, and it is just up to see what reactions it gets. If it gets good reactions, I'll post the next bit, which is already written. I can guarantee that this will be a long fic, because I plan to write lot's in detail, and, well, enjoy it, woncha? Please review, it's a spirit booster!
Thanks!