Hi All.

I do not own Harry Potter. The World and characters are the creations of JK Rowling.

A long time ago I had an idea for a story in which the founders would be reincarnated. I started writing that story when I was 16 and now when I look back on it I cannot help but to cringe in absolute horror. So many years later and after much thought I have decided to continue with the idea but to delete and rewrite the original story into something that I hope is a little better.

Simple summary, the founders have found themselves reincarnated in a world that is residing in a era of peace. However, all is not well. In the aftermath of Voldemort's downfall Magic has become severely unbalanced as Light Magic reigns as the dominant Magic of society. Correspondingly, many Dark or Gray families perished in the war or are considered a minority with little voice or power. Dark and Gray Magic is heavily monitored by the Ministry who have placed even more restrictions and classifications on the nature of Magic. The unbalance is threatening to unravel Mother Magic and before long even Gods may intervene. In Hogswart, division runs rife. The Gryffindor Slytherin rivalry is at an all-time high and Slytherin house is reviled and hated.

Into this era of peaceful unbalance four young children, each bearing heavy namesakes enter the Magical World. The rest of world considers them the victims of ambitious naming but in reality these four children are the four most powerful witches and wizards in British history. Together they are more powerful than they could ever be apart. But old wounds still linger and before they can fix the present, they must heal the wounds from the past.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was perhaps the most astounding magical phenomena in the magical world. Originally, the founders had created the building to act merely as a container for their great endeavour but during the construction of the castle something amazing had occurred. Between the four, the founders had desire to create something more than a mere school. They had intended to create a haven where young witches and wizards were nurtured, protected, cherished and instructed away from the horror perpetuated in the name of Rome. The individual wishes and desires of the founders had combined to create ambience with the castle's foundations that had eventually mutated into a semi-aware magical conscious that continued to grow as with each generation and as more and more magic seeped into the castle walls. Hogwarts had become an entity, an entity with a singular purpose: to protect and nurture although there had been occasions where she had not been able to perform this purpose to its full extent. In many instances there had been some she just couldn't protect. She had tried so very hard to change Tom Riddle but instead he had twisted Salazar's legacy into something cruel and unbearably evil. And the less said about the 1970s the better especially that twinkled eye biased snot and his little band of tormenting bullies (poor Severus she had tried so damn hard). But now, now change was coming. Soon, she thought everything would be better because very soon the Creators were returning and all would be set right. Although she hoped that the boys had gotten over their little tiff but then again knowing those two…

King's Cross Platform 9 3/4 , September 2017

In a small compartment, settled at the rear of a gleaming scarlet steam engine, a small pale boy sat with his head buried in a book. Occasionally he looked up to stare out the window, watching the families gathered outside with slightly wistful look upon his face. This boy was a very unusual boy, even for a young wizard heading out for his first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Arguably, very few young wizards faced this momentous year without fear and trepidation but this boy was no ordinary wizard. Over 1000 years ago he was born in small fief in Danish-ruled England, the last son of a poor noble family. Then he was called Salazar Serpent-Tongued, or more commonly Salazar Slytherin. A name now associated forever with infamy and the Dark Arts. Slytherin, a name hissed with hatred and fear by the modern light-affiliated families, the victors of the Voldemort Wars. Parents told their children of the evil wizard, the creator of the Pure-Blood dogma and warned them to stay away from Slytherin house, a house now vilified due to the actions of a scant few. Now, many centuries after his passing as an old bitter man he had somehow been reborn. It had been quite a shock, 11 years prior when he had woken up only able to wail incessantly as he was moved from the cold corpse of his mother. Once it had sunk in, well to say Salazar was displeased was a understatement. Death was quite comfortable thank you. He had passed the last 1000 years watching the world move forward, mainly in a state despair as he had watched centuries of death and paranoia. Yet, here he sat about to embark on a journey to what he created and also, ran from.

Sighing, the boy turned back to his book and attempted to delve back into the mysteries of the ancient Saxon runic language. At least… he tried to, he thought, as his compartment door burst open to reveal a tall boy with messy red hair and muddy brown eyes. "Oi, firstie," the brat shouted. Salazar frowned, such rudeness. He did after all have a name and there were such things called manners after all. "Yes", he replied cautiously, after all it would do no good to exacerbate the situation. "Get out," the boy barked.

"What", Salazar exclaimed.

"Out, this is our compartment as of five minutes ago. And I am a third year and you're a first year so bugger off." commanded the boy.

"Third year or not who do you think you are!" Salazar snarled out, his brows drawing together in a fierce scowl.

"James Potter, firstie, you know who my father in of course" the brat replied smugly.

"Of course," Salazar replied to the idiot's satisfaction, "but I doubt your father would approve of you bullying someone half your size."

Potter's smirk slid of his face quicker than melting ice, the top of his eyes becoming dangerous pink, "why you little shit!" he growled while raising his wand.

"Well now, you may want to reconsider that," drawled a confident voice from the hallway.

Heads snapped in direction of the voice and saw a tall, gangly boy standing in the corridor, twirling his wand between his fingers.

"Oh, and who are you longshanks," snarled Potter.

"Well, at the moment that is not important. What is important is that the perfects are walking down here right now. Doing the obligatory post departure head-check I believe. But suspect they won't view this", at this he waved at James' raised wand, "as anything less than a puffed up jackarse attempting to bully someone smaller than him." The stranger smirked as James' face reddened and he snarled incoherently before turning on Salazar.

"This isn't over", he turned to the boy, "same to you longshanks" before storming down the train.

The stranger barked out a laugh, a sound frighteningly familiar to Salazar, before turning his attention fully to the small boy before him.

"Tell me Salazar how is it that you insult people mere minutes into a conversation?" he asked, amber eyes twinkling as he stared at the gobsmacked boy before him.

Elsewhere on the train…

Helga Hufflepuff, or as she was known in this life Helga Jones, stared at the colourful illustration of a Griffin with a small absent smile on her face. The image brought to mind a long lost memory where she had sat with a tall ever smiling man as they laying dreaming among swaying flowers and grasses. It would be too much to hope, she thought, that she was not the only one to be in this situation and that the others had accompanied her from beyond the veil. No, Helga had stopped hoping when she saw a tall dark-haired man stroll away from their shared dream and upon their fellowship. Hope, was foolish and she could no longer engage in such folly...

Her gloom filled day-dream came to an abrupt end when she heard a tentative knocking on her apartment door and looked up, only to suffer cardiac arrest thereafter. What Helga saw before her was not possible. The last time she had looked upon that face had been an age ago, and then worn by grief and heartbreak with deep eyes that showed a spirit broken beyond all measure. This person, this person was as Helga loved to remember most. Overly tall to be cute and with wild black hair that was barely contained in its plait paired with bright blue eyes that seemed to cut right through the glass and into her.

Rowena…

How…

Why…

By the Goddess…

"Are you going to continue looking like a fool or are you going to perform common courtesy and let me in?" the apparition drawled in a low Scottish brough.

Ah, yes. That was Rowena.

Meanwhile…

"How in the name of Uther's beard is this possible?" Salazar exclaimed.

"Not entirely sure. Popped out 11 years ago, woke up and was promptly cried on and squashed by my father. The last I remember I was attempting to convince Arthur the validity of mixed duelling in a combat setting." Godric replied, smirking lightly at Salazar's unusual ill-composure.

Salazar glared at Godric, for lack of a better thing to do but also to cover his inner turmoil. Their last conversation had resulted in Godric essentially telling him to go and never come back, a wound which had pierced Salazar deeply as he lost his brother, his sister, his lover and his home in one clean swoop. Now, so many years later, they faced each other again but as what remained undetermined. In his later years and after his passing Salazar bitterly regretted the events which had led to his abandonment of Hogwarts. He had ached to return, to apologise but his pride and his insecurity had played against him. Convinced he was right and unsure of his welcome, Salazar had stayed away from his former family. Now, he had no choice in the matter.

The initial fight between the two men stemmed from the simple fact that Salazar would change and Godric could not understand. Salazar loathed muggles, and in turn he despised their accursed church. His hatred carried from his childhood, during which he had been forced to hide his abilities lest he was caught by the local Roman priest. However, magic does not react well to suppression and on his 13th birthday Salazar was caught levitating conkers by a villager who in turn brought him to the priest. The wretched holy man stirred the crowd into frenzy, feeding them tales of devil spawn and the consequences of allowing a "infestation" to remain. Salazar had been beaten and left to die in the cold while the mob turned upon his family, ransacking the estate and killing his parents. Young Salazar had awoken to the screams of his mother has she burnt on the pyre surrounded by cheering muggles. Maddened with horror and the pain of his wounds, Salazar had fled into the woods and had lived the life of a beggar. At least until he made the poor choice of trying to pickpocket Godric which in turn saw the start of a legendary friendship.

Yet despite their bond Godric had never encountered the horrors of muggle cruelty. His father had been a local lordling, one of the few Saxon lords who had retained their authority after Cnut's rise to power. Godric, for all his skill, was sheltered and had never seen the whispered mobs and burnings. And so, he could not understand Salazar's unrelenting hatred towards the muggles, towards the people he thought were ignorant and somewhat curious. Nor could he understand Salazar's blatant mistrust of muggleborns or of Godric efforts to make them feel more at home in the magical world. Moreover, Godric, as a Christian, did not understand Salazar's desire to keep to what he termed, the Old Ways. In the end such differences overcame their friendship, despite years of comprise. Godric frustrated with what he saw as Salazar's continued bigotry lashed out, and Salazar enraged by Godric's presumption unleashed a river of pent up frustration.

Now a little older and much wiser both men felt it was time to at least make a truce, at the very best mend their friendship.

But there was one tiny problem.

Neither one wanted to open the discussion. Eventually, impetuous as ever Godric leaped head first.

"The first time around, I was a stupid boy. To bold and too arrogant to comprehend that the world might be different than what I had seen. I based all my arguments on what I believed, never considering the value of other people's experiences. In doing so I demeaned them and their losses and in turn I belittled you" he stated his eyes sombre beneath his drawn brows. "I didn't understand your distrust of muggles and muggleborns, I thought you were being, well being…"

"An bigoted, prejudiced arse? At least that is what you said last time." Salazar interjected smoothly.

Godric winced, "God I was the arse Salazar not you. I turned my back on you, on our family and pushed you away. In the process I destroyed everything. Our friendship, our family and the trust of my students. Instead of apologising I refused to stand down, in the process I signed Rowena's life away."

"You could not have foreseen what would happen Godric. If anything it is my fault, I should have stayed with her… if I had known that…" Salazar murmured, green eyes locked onto Godric.

"Pssft, don't try to excuse what I did. I robbed Rowena of her husband and then I robbed Helena of knowing her father. That was inexcusable but what is more, when I finally discovered you were right, I was not even strong enough to find you and bring you home", Godric spat, self loathing written across his face.

Salazar looked at his friend, elated at Godric' omission but confused as to its origins, "what do you mean?"

Godric sighed, drawing a hand across his face, looking much older than his current 11 years. "Just before Rowena's final illness we discovered a young muggleborn. He was from a noble family in Sussex, just turned 11 as per standard. But none of the letters were reaching him. It was baffling and so we decided to investigate in person". Godric paused, his face growing grim in remembrance. "The family could not accept that the boy was magical, they believed him to be possessed and so they… they allowed the priest to perform a exorcism on the child. And when that failed they determined to beat the demon out him. We found the boy. Had to jinx the family to get to him. He was starved, broken and so scared. We brought him to the school, tried to tell him that he was gifted, that there were others like him and that it was alright but…" Godric swallowed. "He couldn't accept it. One night he pilfered a dagger from an older student and he… Rowena found him the next morning…she never recovered from it."

Salazar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "It's alright Godric. We can't rehash the past, it won't do any good. All we can do is decide what we should do with the time that has been given to us. And personally, I would rather die again than live a life as miserable as my first. There is much to forgive but there is more I would like to forget."

Godric grinned, lighting up his boyish features and in turn extorting one from his companion.

Rowena Ravenclaw did not blubber, cry or sob. Despite all of the pain that the fates had thrown at her in her first life, she had always donned a mask of icy resolve. She had not cried when Salazar left her, she had not cried when her daughter betrayed her and she had not cried when little Lucien had given up.

Very little phased Lady Ravenclaw, at least externally. Internally was another matter entirely for although little showed upon her face Rowena felt deeply even if she did not entirely understand what she was feeling or why. Emotions baffled her in ways that charms never had and they always seemed to be in response to her family. Helga, she often noted, never had such problems and certainly showed no hesitation in attempting to strangle her in the embrace she called a "hug". Over the years Rowena had simply learnt to accept it, something were after all unstoppable but now as her sister sobbed her heart out on her shoulders Rowena found herself desperately wishing to return the sentiment, without looking like a complete idiot.

Finally, once Helga had calmed down and managed to lift the blanketing charm of the compartment the two women faced each other properly. It was admittedly awkward. The last time they had seen each other Rowena had been bedridden and dying of illness and unending heartache.

"Does that big brain of yours have any idea how this happened?" Helga asked as she drank in Rowena's appearance.

"I have theories but no facts to support them with and as you know it is a…" Rowena replied.

"A capital mistake to create theories without sufficient facts, yes dear I do remember." Helga smiled cheekily.

"Hufmm, really Helga must you do that." Rowena snarked.

"Oh most definitely, now do you know if we are the only ones? I mean, have you seen the boys at all?" Helga questioned.

"Actually yes, or at least I believe I have." Rowena replied smoothly.

"WHAT! WHERE! We have to…" Helga stammered, taking an abortive leap of the seat of her chair."

"Wait Helga," Rowena grabbed her and seated back on the bench. "Those two have much to discuss and it is prudent that we wait, at least until Hogwarts. Once there we can use the Come and Go Room to conduct our discussion, there we will not be interrupted."

"But that is ages away and…" Helga whined, stopping at Rowena's raised eyebrow.

Rowena turned away smirking slightly before saying in a quiet voice "I too admit that I would like the time to compose myself."

"Ro, you and Salazar…"

"Have centuries of baggage to work through, not to mention currently we are in the form of infants. It promises to be enlightening discussion for two emotionally retarded individual, no?" Rowena teased, unable to hide the worry that showed in her eyes.

"Well dear you won't have long to wait, look," Helga pointed out the window. "We're slowing down, we must be here."

"Oh joy."

I do not hate the church, I am Christian. I was attempting to incorporate historical knowledge to explain Salazar's dislike of muggles.

Cnut was a Danish King who during the 10th century was successful in invading and subjugating Anglo-Saxon England. He is mentioned to provide historical context as Hogwarts was founded aprox. Late 10th early 11th centuries and the four would have meet before then.

Yes some parts are slightly clunky. I have no beta and I am not a professional writer of fiction, in part I am better academic writer to be honest. Also this is a part time hobby so no flames.

No updating schedules so don't pester me. I write when I am in the mood and when fancy takes me.

Yes James is bit Dracoy, but the vibe I got when reading the Epilogue was that he is slightly arrogant boyish prat prone to over teasing and showing off, like most 13yr olds, who no doubt quite liked having a famous dad. He's not a bad kid, he just needs to tone it down and straighten up.