Of the Founders, there were Four-the first of which was Godric Gryffindor…
Blood will have blood-So the Old Magic says
Blood will have blood-So cry the dead
Do not slay what is not yours to take
Or else Blood foes you shall make
But this is a warning none shall heed
Until it is their kin who bleed…
Chapter One-The Birth of A Legend
It will have blood they say: Blood will have blood.
-William Shakespeare
Blood will have blood. It was darkly appropriate, Desiderius Gryffindor thought, wiping the still warm blood from his blade. Morwyn lay before him, starlight reflecting in his glassy eyes. Never again would his old friend rise to great him, embrace him, it was hard to imagine. But Desiderius could not dwell on such emotions now. Such feelings would make him weak-he had done what had to be done. Nothing more. If he let such sentiment into his heart, he might just begin to-
Regret. The word flew forward from the dark recess of his mind. Desiderius flinched back from the harshness of its sting. It was a useless feeling he knew, for he could do nothing now. Even if he had his wand, Morwyn was growing cold on the ground, and no magic known could bring back the dead. Besides, Desiderius reasoned, Morwyn had deserved his lot. He had crossed the wrong man, and Desiderius' lord was not known for his leniency. It was necessary, he concluded, turning away from the corpse and ever growing pool of blood and mounting his house, which had stood, ever patient at his side.
It was a three hours ride back to the village. Hopefully he would make it in time. Desiderius was not about to miss the most important night of his life. He could not miss the birth of his son.
"Push my lady, push!" the chubby muggle midwife was the best they had been able to find, but Gisela could sense the air of inexperience around her yet. It was too bad, she mused as another contraction rippled though her, that they hadn't been able to find a healer. Wizarding births were so much easier then muggle ones.
But they had to make do. Times were dark, and her husband trusted next to no one. Sometimes she even felt that he suspected her, but of what she couldn't imagine. Gisela had done nothing but try and be a devoted wife to her husband, but it seemed like that was simply not enough.
Another wave of pain came over her, and she wondered if this was why her mother had had but one child. She had been told childbirth would be painful but she had underestimated just how painful it would be. It was comforting at least to know that she would bear a son. All else was of little consequence. Finally she would fulfill her duty as a wife.
The pain crested again, and Gisela could no longer keep herself from crying out. But thankfully, with a squelch and dribble of blood, her torment ceased. A cry tore through the air, a strong, healthy cry.
"Congratulations my lady-" the midwife cried, breathless with glee as she handed the wriggling child to her mistress- "It's a boy."
"A boy…" Gisela stared down at her baby-her son. Finally after generations of failure in her line, she, Gisela Blood, had managed to produce a living, healthy son.
"He's mighty strong my lady, mighty strong. He will make a fine man one day." The midwife said, smiling down at the young mother and her baby. Gisela Gryffindor was a good woman, the kindest lady in all of England. She deserved this victory, especially when the master had fathered only daughters from his pervious marriage. Now she would no longer play second fiddle to the memory of her predecessor.
"Thank you." Gisela said, not able to look away from her son's face. He was beautiful, she thought, the most beautiful baby she had ever seen. He had his father's face, she could already tell, but he had inherited her chin and his eyes, his eyes were her own bright blue, staring back at her. He would make his father proud.
"My lady?" a tentative voice called from the doorway. A scullery maid peeked around the corner and into Gisela's chamber.
"My lady, the girls would like to see the baby, if you are feeling up to it?"
"Of course." Gisela smiled at the girl, "send them in."
Almost immediately two young girls bounded around the corner and into the room.
"Oh, let me see! Let me see!" The elder of the two, a chubby girl of twelve, threw herself across her stepmother's lap in order to get a glimpse of her family's newest addition.
"Peace, Gwenbrith," Gisela chuckled, "I'll let you see."
"Oh, he's perfect." The younger girl sighed, curling up into Gisela's side. Adela was the softer of her husband's two children. Where Gwenbrith was loud, Adela was quiet, when Gwenbrith was thoughtless, Adela was careful. A child of only six, Adela was very dear of Gisela
"What will you name him?" Adela asked, her wide blue eyes drinking in her little brother.
"Something strong." Gwenbrith asserted, "something that no one will ever forget."
"What about Arthur? After the ancient king of old?" The midwife suggested.
"He was a muggle." Gwenbrith said dismissively, not sparing a glance for the woman, "Our brother must be named for a wizard."
"What then of Merlin? Wasn't he the greatest of wizards?"
"I couldn't take him seriously if we named him Merlin." Gisela laughed, "A little pretentious, don't you think?"
"Godfry." Adela suggested, 'That's a noble name."
"Yes, but a mite too common, don't you agree?"
"Well then I don't know." Adela pouted, frustrated, burying her head in her stepmother's shoulder.
'Don't worry my dear," Gisela kissed the child's head as the baby in her arms gurgled, "We will think of something."
"Godric."
The sound was so sudden, that both Gisela and Adela looked up in surprise. Gwenbrith was grinning at both of them, glowing as though she had just had the grandest revelation.
'What was that, dear?" Gisela looked at her eldest stepdaughter.
"Godric. Godric Gryffindor. After my mother's father."
"After your mama's father?"
Adela squealed, "Oh yes, name him after grandfather, please, Mother."
"I…" Gisela hesitated. She hated that the memory of her husband's fist wife still hung over the manor. Clarimond Lancaster was a cold woman by all accounts, but her husband had been quite devoted to her and her portrait still hung above the mantel in his study. To name her child after such a woman's father was…unpleasant to say the least.
But Godric Lancaster had been a great man, his conquests for the muggle king were legendary as well as his great kindness. He had not been the most skilled of magicians, but what skill he did have he used for the betterment of others. She should be proud to name her son for such a man, regardless of her own petty feelings.
Gisela kissed her now slumbering son's brow.
"Godric Gryffindor. It is a very unique name, for a very unique child."
"So is it settled?" Gwenbrith asked.
"Yes, I suppose it is. Welcome to Gryffindor Glen, Godric Gryffindor."
The storm was relentless as Desiderius rode towards his manor. In all his life in the valley, he had never seen such a storm. Not for the first time that night, he wished for his wand. But it was safe at his bedside, where his master bade it to be. For some reason, the master disliked Desiderius to use wands on his…missions. Apparently it wasn't within courtly standards to do so.
It didn't matter. Desiderius was a simple man at heart. As long as the supply of gold in his vault never dwindled, he was loyal to his master, and his master was loyal to him.
Far off on the other side of the glen, a figure watched the knight ride south. Its face was partially hidden in shadow, and an observer would not have been able to discern it's sex, but as the lightning flashed, two facts were revealed. First, the figure was clutching a diamond necklace in its hand, and second, as it's eyes followed the knight as he disappeared over the hill, a sinister smile played on the corner of it's mouth.