Notes: Founders' era, Gen (Rowena/Helga if you turn your head sideways and squint through translucent glass)

Eenie Meenie Miney Mo

"Boys!"

The admonishment rang harshly through the room, and the individuals in question flinched and turned away from each other, still muttering darkly under their breaths.

The fourth occupant, a usually austere-looking woman, was slumped into her favourite squashy armchair with her eyes closed, rubbing her temples tiredly.

The first woman, red-haired and dressed in resplendent black robes, looked the very picture of fiery rage, with arms crossed tightly below a generous bosom and icy blue eyes flashing ominously.

"By Merlin, one would think that after ten years, some semblance of maturity would prevail, but that is evidently too much to hope from the two of you. How would your students judge you if they were to see you quarrelling like fledgling first years? No," she commanded upon seeing their mouths open, "you will both sit down—sit down, Godric—and you will both listen. If I have to separate the two of you one more time, the house elves of this castle will be directed to disregard your orders forevermore."

"Helga, you are not in earnest, surely?" Salazar—for that was who had spoken—decried, aghast.

"I assure you, the house elves will be the least of your problems if you both do not pull yourselves together and have the courtesy to at least pretend to act like the adults you are! I am sick and tired of this … this … truly unbecoming ruffian-like ruckus that you insist on making every single time! Rowena and I are perfectly capable of settling our differences in a civilised fashion, and there is no reason the two of you cannot do the same. Now," she hissed, a gimlet eye affixed on each, "I will not tolerate such ridiculous displays in the future, so you will desist. Rowena, dear?"

The furrowed lines on the fair woman's face had smoothed out somewhat in the relative calm, and she gave her friend a warm smile. "Yes, love?"

"Are you able to suggest any resolution? Although it is the boys that get into disputes over the students they wish to claim, it will likely help us all if we are able to find a method that will sort the more ambiguous students into their suited houses fairly."

Rowena hummed thoughtfully, absently twisting a lock of her dark hair. "A spell would not be difficult, but it would be improper as the caster would invariably influence the magic. Potions are unusable for similar reasons. I would consider runes to be excessive for such a common task, and in any case, its uses are best suited to warding. The most worthwhile alternative would be an artefact, charmed to sort the students."

"I agree," Salazar spoke up silkily, if a little sullen. "It will have to be charmed by each of us independently and in concert, so that it is able to discern the students' characteristics and match them to those prized by our houses. I suggest a piece of jewellery of some kind. Something that may be applied and removed readily, like a chain, with a sufficiently large locket to display the name of the chosen house."

Godric scoffed. "Sal, do not bother hiding behind your wily words your intent to put forth your own family locket as an option. Slytherin you may be, but you are as transparent as a ghost." He wisely refrained from continuing in that vein at Helga's warning glare. "No, I fear something quite so grandiose would not put the children at ease. How about an item that is familiar, like a robe, or a hat? Such an item could conveniently be made to change into the respective colour, or show the name of the most befitting house."

"Both proposals are rational," Rowena agreed diplomatically. "However, matters would be greatly simplified if a piece of parchment and quill were used. Far more practical, wouldn't you concur?"

Helga nodded. "Indeed. However, as it is their inaugural ceremony into the school, mayhap something a little more fancy? A paintbrush and canvas, perhaps?"

"All are sound," Salazar grumbled irritably, now looking like he wanted nothing more than for the matter to be concluded. "Nonetheless, the fact remains that we now have to select one amongst this veritable array of choices. A task that our esteemed Helga will not allow to be undertaken by any of our number, I presume?"

The Welsh woman's eyes glittered dangerously. "You presume correctly, darling Salazar. We shall require an impartial citizen to preside over the selection."

"And I have just the candidate," Rowena grinned suddenly. Even Helga felt a moment of apprehension at the rascally glint—it was a look they were all intimately familiar with, and never boded well for anyone.

"Yes?" she inquired cautiously.

"Why, Galien, of course!"

The second of silence after her announcement was followed by Salazar's near-incoherent sputtering. "G-G-Galien? Our Galien? Godric's brat, the mere babe-of-a-few-months Galien?" He snorted inelegantly. "Surely you jest, woman!"

"I do not jest, Salazar. It is for precisely the reason that he is an infant that he will be perfect—after all, he can have no preferences at such a tender age. We will present Galien with the items and whatever he chooses will be our sorting sytem." Her frosty tone brooked no argument.

With nothing more to be said, the remaining three exchanged wary glances before following the Ravenclaw heiress as she swept ahead to the Gryffindor rooms.

Godric's wife, Adelena Gryffindor, was rocking the baby gently. At their entrance, she looked up in startled confusion.

"This is a surprise, Godric!" she exclaimed, rising up to greet them. "What brings you here at this hour? And all four of you, at that!"

"We have a decision of import for little Galien to make," Rowena stated.

"A decision of import? Why, he is as yet unable to discern the dissemblance of my hair to his milk; pray tell what he is charged with deciding!"

Turning a blind eye to Salazar's expression of smug knowing, Rowena said, "We have with us four objects"—they hastily conjured or summoned their preferred talismans—"and merely require Galien to choose one from them—whichever catches his fancy."

The bewilderment had not abated, but Adelena's face now also expressed relief. "Of course." She stepped back and gestured them forward. "As you will."

They each levitated their item and hovered it over the eyes of the now-fascinated infant, all four objects forming a tight square.

Were an outsider to look in at that moment, they would have been incapable of repressing great guffaws of laughter at the comical sight. Five adult witches and wizards stood in a circle around a small babe, each with expressions of great expectation, as though waiting for a momentous occurrence.

Galien was now reaching up, trying to grab or bat at the hanging articles. His tiny fingers finally grasped the dark cloth of Godric's hat. Pulling it to him, he deposited a portion of the rim unceremoniously into his mouth, chewing wetly on it without concern.

… And that, as they say, was that.

A/N: All the silliness! The Founders' era is one that I absolutely adore and am super intrigued by, so I just couldn't resist. Once again, longer than anticipated, but I quite enjoyed this :p

I cannot for the life of me write in accents, especially with the added factor of them being centuries in the past, but I hope I was able to convey some of that archaic…ness.

Reviews are loved! (And prompts!)