Author's Note: I have never written a Founders' Era fic before. This was a good time, and I hope you enjoy it too! Also I acknowledge that I'm about a century early for the widespread consumption of coffee on the African continent, but hear me out: wizards.

Disclaimer: The following characters belong to J.K. Rowling, and this story derives from her original works, storylines, and world. Please do not sue me, I can barely pay tuition.

Dedication: For the House Cup Hufflepuff team, who I promised a Robin Hood parody featuring the Founders a million years ago. This gang has weathered some rough waters, but we are still going strong as Round 6 ends! Thanks to Aya especially for having a look.

Warnings: NA


Stacked with: MC4A; By Any Other Name; Snicket Fence

Individual Challenge(s): Seeds; Ethnic and Present (Y); Short Jog (Y)

Representation(s): Founders family; Squamish Rowena Ravenclaw; Masai Godric Gryffindor; Romani Helga Hufflepuff; Desi Salazar Slytherin

Bonus Challenge(s): Found Family; Nontraditional; Zucchini Bread; Second Verse (Not a Lamp); Chorus (Pocky Pockets; Odd Feathers)

Tertiary Bonus Challenge(s): NA

Word Count: 2096


Thick as Thieves

They were under the impressions that they had cleaned themselves off rather well before circling back to camp, but when Rowena and Helga looked at them, their faces spoke otherwise.

"Again?" Rowena asked, though she didn't sound surprised. She rolled her eyes and threw her braid over her shoulder flippantly.

"I can explain," Godric said, raising his hands so that his spear grazed the treetops. He grinned. "They really, really deserved it."

"Make an effort," Salazar said, rolling his eyes. "We have just discussed how unhappy this would make them."

"Well, thank you for your honesty," Helga said, taking a deep breath. She got up from her perch near the fire, holding up her apron to keep the spices and ingredients she'd piled there from falling. "Does this mean we have to move camp again?"

"No, we should be fine," Godric said. "I did a sweep of the area; we neutralized all of their party, and Salazar and I were not followed."

"I asked some of my friends on the scalier side, and they corroborated that we were clear," Salazar said.

Godric clicked his tongue. "He has seen me hunt and track for years now, and still does not trust me."

"If it helps, that's a reflection of me more than it is of you," Salazar said.

"Meanwhile, I trust neither of you," Rowena said. She closed her eyes and the silvery raven she so often summoned to her aid appeared. It landed on her shoulder and bit at her dangling dentalium earrings. She swatted it away and laughed.

"You trickster. Now go have a look," she said.

The raven took off.

"I haven't heard anything from my little ones, so I will choose to trust you," Helga said, kneeling down by the fire again to tend to her concoction.

"Is that supper?" Godric asked hopefully.

"No," Helga said. "It's a—actually, I'll wait until I've solved several combustibility problems before telling you what it is…"

"Though unfortunate for my stomach, that sounds wise," Godric nodded.

"While we are on the topic of wisdom—or the lack of—once more, let's finish our previous conversation," Rowena said. "You and Salazar engaged with the king's men?"

"You need to be more careful," Helga said. "I went to the market today, disguised of course, and saw these in the village square…"

She reached into one of her many, many pockets and retrieved a WANTED poster with Salazar's face on it. She handed another one to Godric bearing his likeness.

"But the real question is, which one of us has the highest reward?" Salazar asked.

"It doesn't matter; they butchered your nose so badly that I'm the obvious winner," Godric said.

"This isn't funny," Helga said.

"Well," Godric said. "As a counterpoint…"

He retrieved a bag of coins from his pocket. He tossed it and Rowena caught it. She closed her eyes and hummed.

"So you engaged greatly," Rowena self-corrected, assessing its magic properties. "I thought we had agreed that we were going to be discreet for a few days..."

"Yes," Godric said quietly. "And then Salazar and I saw a royal carriage pass by, and the guards were breaking protocol which made it particularly easy to access, and… well, one thing led to another and that in your hand should be enough to restore fifteen wizards' magic."

"Thirteen, do not be cocky," Rowena said. She tied the bag to the belt at her waist. "I will be holding on to these. We cannot make more waves in the area, or we shall be detected."

They had discovered how the local king was stripping the witches and wizards amongst his subjects of magic about three months ago. Helga had followed the pull of some strange magic she had never sensed before, which was saying something since she had grown up traveling, and had tipped Godric off to a royal carriage, which he had promptly stolen their first coins from. That night they had sat by the fire, brewed the coffee beans that Godric had carried to this continent with him, and worked throughout the night, shooting ideas back and forth, talking them out, decomposing all the necessary charms… until they realised that it was human magic trapped in the coins. Where it was being taken to and why, they had yet to learn. But Rowena had rather quickly puzzled out how to return the stolen magic to its rightful keepers.

"We have to redistribute those!" Godric said, getting up. "Or else what's the purpose of stealing from the king to give to the wizards?"

"We have to think strategically and long-term," Rowena said. "If we are caught and stopped, if the guards change the routes we've already scouted, if the king changes his approach, or if we are forced to leave the region what good will it have been to restore one man's magic when we could have helped hundreds?

Godric didn't reply. He leaned his spear against a tree, unwrapped the red shawl from around his shoulders, and hung it on a clothesline. He didn't like to admit being wrong, but any good warrior knew when to retreat—and Rowena's tone was giving some clear messaging.

"I'll start on dinner," he declared. "There should be some of that smoked fish left, and we have enough wild leeks and mushrooms for a good meal."

Rowena's raven returned, perching on her shoulder.

"The coast is clear," she confirmed. She stroked the raven's back, and it disappeared under her touch.

"Funny how the forest has echoes, sometimes," Salazar said pointedly. He sat on one of the tree stumps they'd gathered around their hearth.

Their camp was humble, but they had made themselves comfortable. They had one tent for cooking and another for sleeping, and the two were separated by a covered pile of firewood and a rain barrel. Soon, they had constructed a work table to add to their site. Helga's caravan closed the circle, and she had placed some powerful charms on it so that its bright orange coat wouldn't give them away amongst the foliage. It had been her home for years, but now they used it to store their valuables—which in this country and in this area was anything magical at all.

"Here's what I don't understand," Godric spoke up, emerging from the cooking tent.

"I knew he wasn't done," Salazar sighed. "Helga, let me help you with that…"

"I don't understand what our strategy is and how we expect to improve," Godric said. "This land's king, this King John whom we have yet to meet, has been stealing magic from his subjects for five years now. What are we hoping to accomplish, plucking back magic bit by bit by bit? There is no way for us to keep up and restore magic to all of them."

The four of them sighed. They had come from lands far away. None of them even knew where Rowena's homeland was—they suspected quite a large ocean was involved, but her resistance to speak of home seemed protective in a way the rest of them didn't dare prod. They spoke different tongues and spoke through the webs of magic around the world to understand one another. They had compared the way that magic flowed through them and into the world. But none of them had seen what they were seeing here: magic stolen, taken, confiscated on such a massive scale… and truth be told, they were a little afraid of it. Life without magic did not strike them as life at all: not when it was so central to their beings.

"These witch hunts won't end," Helga said quietly. "These lands have persecution woven into them and their histories."

"That's… not altogether helpful, but important to note," Salazar said. "Helga is right. This land is poisoned by its own people hunting each other."

"That phenomenon is not unique," Godric said. "I've seen war in my own land."

"Of course, but Helga has a point here," Rowena said. "The divisions here between magic and non-magic… That very division continues to baffle me, as if there could be any way for the two to be separable and independent from one another."

"I was taught that it was an insult to a lion to bring more than one spear on a hunt, since one was enough to kill it were you skilled enough," Godric said.

"Speak plainly," Rowena said.

"Why are we not addressing the issue of the king himself?" Godric said. "This is the source of the problem."

"Because it's not our land, he is not our king, we have no proof that his successor would be different in any significant way, this is the devil we know, it would be significantly more complicated than living in the woods..." Salazar said. "Shall I go on?"

Godric shook his head.

"Meddling in these peoples' problem without addressing its source is messy," Godric said. "We will chase tails, perhaps even our own."

"Godric's right," Helga spoke up. "We need to interfere earlier."

"Earlier?" Rowena asked. "We spoke of no timeline, Helga."

"Indirectly," Helga said quietly. "Godric, you spoke of these peoples' problem, but the truth is… we've only restored stolen magic to adults. The king isn't targeting children."

"You're right," Rowena breathed. She turned back to Helga, nodding. "Children show signs of magic, but unpredictably so, and nearly always under a parent's protection. They wouldn't reveal themselves in witch trials or to local inspections the same way. But when their parents are robbed of their magic or killed…"

"They're alone," Salazar said. He swallowed hard, as if the discussion had nicked a memory and dragged it back to the surface. "Which means that they don't learn how to control their magic or use it for the good of their community..."

"The children, then," Godric said. "The magical children here are our best hope."

"They need to be protected." Helga insisted

"They can be trained too," Rowena mused. "Somewhere safe, somewhere far…"

"We could make the camp child-proof," Salazar said. "Might have to put some protective charms around the fire, pick up our weapons, Rowena would have to watch her language…"

"No, it should be a castle big enough to rival the king's," Godric grinned. "Bigger, if possible."

"With spite, everything is possible."

"Yes and that's the really nice thing about this country—they simply give castles away," Rowena said sarcastically.

"Well of course we'd have to build one," Helga said. "But… surely, this wouldn't be beyond our reach."

Salazar laughed, and as he laughed the forest shook around them.

Rowena moved to stand by their work table and waved her hands through the air with a dancer's grace. Twigs and dust and roots rose from the forest floor and swirled in front of her, rearranging themselves into a miniature castle's floorplan. The structure grew in front of her, and Helga hauled her cauldron off the fire before joining her.

"Stop," Helga said, swirling her hand and switching the design some. "There should be bigger classrooms in the basement, for potions to be taught… a solid stone foundation could contain any—mmm—incidents. I assume this structure will be stone…"

"Yes," Rowena nodded. Palms up, she pushed her hands skywards and four towers, one on each corner of the castle, rose. "Dormitories. Students should stay full time while they study, to avoid unnecessary traffic that may attract attention, unfortunate experiments outside of safe places, keep them focused on their studies…"

"There need to be grounds around the castle," Godric said. "Any students would need space, fresh air… A forest, like this one, actually... Something with water—a lake, maybe… Oh, what's that idiotic game they all play in this land? Quidditch?"

"Yes, Quidditch!" Helga said. "They would love a Quidditch pitch…"

And slowly but surely, they built up the model. When the sun began to fall, Godric tapped his spear to the earth and orbs of light rose around them. They worked throughout the night, sculpting their school and bickering over details and adjusting the shapes of the windows just so…

"It's beautiful," Helga said as dawn broke. Nobody had made any changes to the model for about five minutes now; they had just contemplated it in satisfaction and… well, excitement.

"We can make this real," Salazar said.

"I know," Godric said. "Together we can."

"Together we can do anything," Helga added.

He reached out and took Salazar's hand with one, Helga's with the other. Helga reached out to Rowena, who reached out to Salazar. And there they stood; Gryffindor, Slytherin, Hufflepuff, and Ravenclaw—thick as thieves, literally thieves, but on the edge of something more.