November, 1032 – Hogwarts Castle, Scotland

All of the four founders had their own private chambers where they kept their private libraries, laboratories where they worked on new spells and creations, and were able to hide away for hours on end - their students never knowing where to look for them. They had other, more accessable offices as well where students and teachers could seek them out – but these were their special places.

Salazar was currently bottling up his most recent concoction in his own hide-a-way deep in the dungeons, far away from the rest of the castle in a natural cavern he'd discovered one day. He'd immediately fashioned a hidden entrance through his own rooms in the castle to the caves.

There were several chambers that were interconnected, deep below the level of the lake. The largest one he used for testing spells; that way if anything went wrong down here, it would not affect the rest of the castle. The smaller chambers he'd smoothed out with some mining spells and set up one as a fully stocked potions laboratory - with its own natural chimney system that kept fresh air constantly flowing through the room, another became a library that surpassed Rowena's own that she had opened up for student use, and a third was turned into a comfortable sitting chamber where he could hide and write up his memoirs – these last two were interconnected, the study a smaller chamber to the side of the library. A dry, rustling sound came from the vicinity of the entryway and Salazar looked over at his newly hatched pet basilisk – a fit guardian for his treasure cave. The rare anguine creature hissed at its master, keeping its eyes hooded so as not to hurt the Wizard, and he reached into a nearby basket to throw it a treat, watching fondly as it swallowed the dead rat whole and slithered out of his lab.

Rowena had designed the castle with each of them in mind, leaving the details of each section to each founder. They each had a fourth of the castle to arrange however they wanted and Rowena's spells were keyed to each founder so that they could direct the magic to do their bidding. As a result, each part of the castle had a distinct flavour to it, and reflected each founder's personalities. And the outside resembled more of a haphazard collection of styles and building techniques rather than a cohesive whole – but everyone from the teachers and staff to the apprentices studying there, loved it dearly – finding that there was always something new to discover around every corner.

Gryffindor had soaring towers, and open areas – classrooms that were large, airy and inviting. Gryffindor apprentices were always fun-loving lads and lasses, championing everyone. A highly competitive streak ran in the house-mates and they were always forming contests to show off their skills. They were the defenders of the castle, learned in battle strategies and leaders of troops. Godric's office was bold in its colour choices, and comfortable – in a masculine way – in its furnishings, yet practical as well. Nothing was there that did not have a purpose. Godric was not a man to sit idly studying some remote branch of magic; he was always on the move and was one of the schools best recruiters – seeking out those children with special inborn talent and convincing their parents that they were better off learning how to use these gifts to their best advantage in a place that specialised in this craft. He could have the mothers eating out of his hand within half a candle-mark. It had been his idea to take an old hat of his and charm it with each of their traits, allowing it to determine which Witch or Wizard the new students would apprentice under for the next seven years. Over the last twenty years, the hat had developed a distinct personality with a fondness for couplets and rhyming.

Helga was down to earth, and her areas had lots of gardens encased by covered walkways so that everyone could enjoy them, rain or shine. She was the hearth and home of the castle, the welcoming mother's touch to those apprentices who had never prepared for such a journey. Her rooms were a comfortable mix of homey smells, soft fabrics and cushioned benches where students who felt homesick could always come and be comforted. On the second floor of her section, she had devised a healing area where students, who were too injured to fix quickly, could recuperate. Salazar kept her stocked in potions, elixirs and unguents – constantly experimenting with new concoctions. She had situated her living quarters near the kitchens where she spent time supervising the elves she had organised. She had found the creatures living destitute in the local forest, foraging for food like animals. She had taken them in, taught them skills such as cleaning and cooking – and they had been so grateful, they had pledged themselves and their magic to her service, and the service of Hogwarts. Over the years, the elves had become attached to certain students, or professors, and their loyalties had switched. Helga had released them to their new masters with a smile, knowing her friends would be in good hands.

Rowena had gone for practical towers, much like Godric, but hers weren't the airy romantic ones on the north side of the castle. They were more practical – wide, squat, roomy. One huge central tower dominated the landscape and inside was a majority of the classrooms and teachers quarters. On the top level of the tower she had fashioned her own multi-layer office that included living quarters. Ostensibly as the head of the school, it became known as the Head Mistresses office. She had placed an observatory at the top of one of the towers and spent quite a bit of time up there, or in a smaller office directly below, mapping the stars. She conversed regularly with the Centaurs that had moved into the local forest, escaping persecution in Greece, and she had bespelled a circlet to contain all the knowledge from her books so that she wouldn't have to constantly carry around one of the huge tomes.

The circlet was one that Salazar had designed for her after the founding of the school. Created from beaten gold, it sported four Cabochon tiger eyes famed for their ability to promote wisdom. They also had a great magical capacity to hold energy without their matrices failing. Flanking each stone were gems representing the four houses. Her own Sapphire and Jasper – representing the bronze – was in front, Salazar's Emerald and Diamond to the back while the left tiger eye was Helga's Tourmaline and Onyx, with a Ruby and Citrine to represent Godric on the right. Used primarily to hold her veil in place, only the other three founders and her children knew that it contained so much more.

Salazar had the southern section of the castle, the section closest to the lake. In fact he had built his students' quarters underground and had incorporated a huge glass wall that looked directly into the lake. If you nox-ed the candles in the Common Room, you could just faintly see the phosphorous lamps in the freshwater Mere Colony at the bottom of the lake. It was a bit disconcerting sometimes to see fish and other creatures swim up to the window to peek in on the air-breathing inhabitants of the room.

Salazar had designed all of his teaching and living areas to be below ground, and they had quickly gained the sobriquet of 'The Dungeons'. He had also designed the Great Hall that stood right above his area, but hardly anyone remembered that – especially not after Rowena had created the spell that reflected the outdoor sky onto the rafter area of the Hall.

His wife did love her spells.

Carrying a flask of the new potion to help relieve her pain, Salazar used the secret ways he had created to ascend from the caverns, through his own office and into Rowena's on the seventh floor of the main tower. The main entrance was guarded by a huge Gargoyle that operated only on a password. A set of rotating stairs carried the visitor up to her office, giving her ample opportunity to prepare before they knocked on the thick oak door. He utilized a passageway known only to the family that opened up in the sitting area behind her main office, a place where she spent a majority of her time, now. He politely knocked on her chamber door before easing it open, being careful not to spill the flagon of potion in his other hand.

Today she'd had enough energy to move to sit in front of her fire, wrapped warmly against the chill of the winter winds that whistled outside the castle walls. Their favourite elf, Pibeo, was puttering around the room tidying things up, her little feet rustling in the sweet rushes that helped keep the warmth in the room. She was dressed in a short tunic and belted tabard that had a Hogwarts emblem embroidered on the front. The split colours of blue and silver on the tabard denoted service to their two houses. The elf nodded to Slytherin before snapping her finger and disappearing to the kitchens.

Salazar placed the cup on the table next to her right hand before checking to make sure that the woven covers were tucked in securely around her emaciated form. He knew she only had days left, and when she was gone, he would leave this place as well. It hurt to see her – someone who once was so vibrant and energetic – reduced to this mere shell. All he could do was make her last days comfortable.

"How are you, my dear?" he asked. "I'm glad to see you up and about today."

She gave him a weak smile before lifting the cup to her lips with both palsied hands and taking short, hesitant sips of the brew within. He raised a hand to help her steady the vessel and she smiled in thanks.

"Vile, as always, Sal," she commented, taking a breather before finishing it off.

"If it tasted good..."

"...it wouldn't work, I know." She returned the flagon to the table, leaning back with a sigh into the cushions of the chair, closing her eyes in weariness; the shadows prominent on her face. "So, what will this one do?" she asked, opening them again to look at her companion.

"A restorative; it should hopefully give you more energy," was the answer he supplied.

She closed her eyes again with a small grunt of acknowledgement. "I'll let you know if it begins working. It was good to see Bast last week, he is taking his tasks seriously and you seem to be satisfied with his running of the estate. We need to set him up with a wife soon – thirty is too old to be single – he needs an heir." She paused, settling the rug more snugly about her. "I sent for Helena, you know. Have you heard anything? I would like to see her before..."

He shook his head. "No, I haven't heard anything – she could be anywhere..." he lied. He hesitated to broach the subject, but with so little time left he couldn't afford to be tactful. "I know there is more than just you wishing to see her, Rowena. You two were never that close," he pointed out.

She sighed and stared into the fire, avoiding her husband's eyes. "I know, I was a terrible mother – I didn't spend enough time with her like a mother should – but she always seemed fine with how we raised her..." she prevaricated.

"Because you refused to see her little rebellions," he gently explained. "She would come to me when you were too busy to listen or felt you were too unreasonable in your demands. Her brother was already gone into the world by the time she started her schooling."

Firelight glistened off the tears that silently tracked down the mother's cheeks. "Perhaps so..." she conceded before looking at him seated across from her.

"I know I'm dying, Sal, that's why I wanted to see her one last time. Really, truly, that is the only reason."

He cocked his head sideways as he gazed into her eyes, taking in the nuances of her mannerisms, this woman that he knew so well – that he'd fought for when younger, that he'd slept next to for over forty years. He knew she was holding something back, but he also knew she would never tell him what it was; he'd just have to accept what she said and move on from there.

Of course, he had a secret, too. One he would never reveal to her. Two could play at that game. He told himself he was keeping his knowledge a secret for noble reasons. He wasn't too sure if hers was hidden for the same ideal. There had been a reason she had sent the Baron after their daughter, and it wasn't just to persuade the girl to come home. Unfortunately, the Baron's retinue were unaware of any further reasons for the mission, and the chief participants were now beyond the veil, their magically preserved bodies slowly wending their way home. It would be weeks before the two would be back in Scotland and by then, Rowena would be joining them in the niches below the chapel. It would be a sad Yuletide this year.

"Well, shall we enjoy a bit of supper? Pibeo left a tray for us – I smell Helga's onion soup!" he said, trying to tempt her. He floated the tray over to rest on a hassock that was between them, removing the lids so that the delicious smell permeated the room.

Rowena sniffed appreciatively. "Perhaps a little bit, with a heel of the bread?"

"That's my lady," he murmured as he dipped up a small bowl of the soup, placing a generous portion of the long loaf of hot, crusty bread beside it after he'd spread some fresh butter on the warm, inner sanctum.

Saturday September 16th, 2006 – The Ministry, London

Because of the age of the documents, Harry had made several duplicates for both of them to peruse and filed the originals in his office safe, which was secured under Goblin-devised warding spells courtesy of his brother-in-law, Bill Weasley.

"No one can break into there," he pointed out to the liaison officer. "Alright, you've had two days to read these; what do they say and why were they forwarded to us?"

Brian sat back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling while he gathered his thoughts. "These seem to be diary pages of a clerk; one who was in the retinue of a Scottish or Welsh noble, possibly titled – it is a bit unclear. He tells of his lord being infatuated for years with a lady who had spurned his advances. She had gone to the continent to escape him, but when her mother fell ill he was sent to find her..."

"And bring her back, but instead he ended up killing her, and committed suicide in the wake of her murder," Harry concluded.

Brian stared at him for a moment then blinked. "You've heard this story before."

"Yes, I'm the only one who does know it – well, aside from two ghosts at Hogwarts. But that is all I know. The Bloody Baron won't talk about it, and it took a lot of desperate persuading on my part to get the Gray Lady to impart hers. Does it give the Baron's name? That was something I never learned."

Brian leafed through his copies. "No, it never mentions him by name, only refers to him as 'My Lord'."

Harry began pacing around his office. "Ever since I spoke with her, I've always felt there was more to the story." He turned to the confused officer. "This all has to do with the founders of Hogwarts – four of the greatest Wizards and Witches in our country; next to Merlin in stature. These two people are ghosts at the school; they've been there for nearly a thousand years. The Gray Lady is the ghost belonging to the Ravenclaw house and the Bloody Baron is Slytherin's haunt. During the final battle, when I was hunting down the last of Voldemort's Horcruxes, I discovered via the Gray Lady that the final, physical Horcrux was a diadem belonging to her mother that she had stolen and hidden away in a hollow tree in Albania. Her mother, you see, was one of the founders of our school – Rowena Ravenclaw – and it was said that her diadem imparted great wisdom to those who wore it. I have no idea if that is true, although I wouldn't put it past her to Charm it to do so." He stopped in front of his desk and leaned back on it.

"In any case, Rowena kept secret the theft but when she was dying, she sent the Baron – who she knew to be in love with her daughter – after her to persuade her to come home. The meeting did not go well. The Baron became enraged and killed Helena, the daughter. In his grief, he committed suicide. The clerk's notes seem to verify that tale that she told me."

"What happened to the diadem?" Brian asked, curious.

"Voldemort persuaded Helena to tell him the story when he was in school and he went to Albania to find it. He turned it into a Horcrux and hid it back in the school during the early sixties where it lay until I found it and it was destroyed in Fiend Fyre."

"A little drastic, don't you think?" Brian commented with a quirk of his mouth.

Harry eyed him with an answering smile. "Perhaps; but I didn't start it. However, it did get the job done. By the way, that is essentially one of only two ways we know to destroy a Horcrux, the other is basilisk venom. Good to know in case you should ever come across one." The lieutenant committed the piece of trivia to his well-ordered mind. "So," his boss continued. "We know that the story is a thousand years old and that it was a murder/suicide that essentially resolved itself – is there anything you wish to pursue further about this?"

"Yes, I'd like to see if I can discover the Baron's true identity. Do you think he would consent to an interview?"

Harry raised an eyebrow in surprise. "You know, I honestly don't know. He might, and he could just as easily blow right through you – I don't recommend that, by the way; getting skelped by a ghost is downright weird." He mock-shivered, in demonstration, while moving back to his desk chair.

"Look, I've got enough on my plate this week – my wife is expecting our second child any day now; why don't you see what you can find. Go to Hogwarts and try to talk to the Baron. Consider it part of getting to know your British counterpart's history – it is much more interesting doing it this way than reading 'Hogwarts, a History'." He began writing on a slip of parchment before sliding it across the desk to his colleague. "Here's an introductory letter to the Headmistress. Tell her when we discover the entire story and all the players, I'll write it up and she can place it in the archives – or have the new History professor teach it. We really don't know a lot about that era of the school," he pointed out. "It is mostly legends instead of hard fact."

"Thanks, sir, I'll head up there this afternoon," Brian said while pocketing the slip. He stuffed his copy of the papers back into his folder and headed back to his desk to straighten it up before Flooing to Hogsmeade, Scotland.