So, of course i have no idea when the founders' birthdays are, but I got requests, so... :) I just guessed based on my idea of their personalities hahaha :) happy birthday Helga! Sorry it's not happier!

"Oh, Rowena," Helga murmured. "What have you done?"

Rowena lay in the bed, apparently asleep, though her breathing was labored and painful. She was positively skeletal, her skin white as chalk; the months of worry since Helena's flight from the castle had taken their toll, certainly, but it was Rowena's expedition to the wildernesses of Europe that had made her this ill. Godric managed to track her down somewhere in the east, and only last night had himself carried her back to her tower room at Hogwarts.

Though Rowena had been conscious upon her arrival, she had not recognized her home, and murmured a few faint words about Helena before falling into a deep sleep. Now she had a high fever, and Helga was feeling very anxious. She wanted to send for a healer from the village, but if it became widely known that Rowena Ravenclaw was ill, questions would be raised, and the credibility of Hogwarts would be under attack.

After all, not very many knew that Helena was not, in fact, Rowena's adopted daughter, nor did they know that she had run away after learning that her father was Salazar Slytherin, and that she was the product of an affair that had ended badly. Helga and Godric had spent the better part of the last year trying to conceal the truth even from their own staff; very few people would want to teach in a school that supposedly "promoted" such casual morals, let alone allow their children to be educated there.

The very thought made Helga grind her teeth in anger. Then came a soft moan; Rowena was stirring slightly. Helga felt a rush of relief and took her hand. "Rowena."

"Helga?" she asked weakly. "Where—where am I?"

"You are home," Helga told her soothingly.

Rowena frowned, looking around at the wide, round room, decorated in blue and bronze. "But…how did…how did I come here?"

"Godric," Helga said simply, her eyes filling with tears. "Godric brought you back. Do you remember? You were in Germany, in a Muggle convent."

Rowena gave another little moan and closed her eyes, though it was hard to tell if she was in pain or just overwhelmed.

"There, there," Helga said. "You're safe, now, and you need rest…"

"Helena," Rowena insisted. "I need Helena…Albania."

"I know, Rowena, please," Helga said softly, putting a hand on her shoulder. "We can find her…you've done beautifully, Rowena, we will find Helena."

"She's in…nnh…Albania…Helga, I must see her, please…my daughter…" Rowena's large, dark eyes opened. They were full of tears. "I want you…to reach the—the baron's son. He—he can find her, I know…he can try to win her…"

"Rowena…"

"You must, Helga, he will find her," Rowena pleaded.

"I will write to him," Helga promised her, though it was with hesitation. "But we must get you well, first. I will send for him once you are stronger."

"No, no—it must be now," Rowena wailed, and her thin fingers caught at Helga's hand. "Please, Helga…I…I do not have…"

"Hush, hush," Helga whispered, her voice breaking. Her chin trembled as Rowena's eyes slid shut again. Though she was breathing heavily and gave a soft moan, Rowena seemed to be falling asleep once again. Helga laid a gentle hand on her forehead. "Burning," she muttered, sniffling loudly and hurrying to her feet. She went to fetch the basin and cloth, and had just perched herself on the bed beside Rowena when she heard a soft knock.

Helga went to the door. Godric leaned in the frame, looking exhausted.

"I sent you to bed," Helga whispered, as he kissed her forehead gently.

"You worry about me too much," he assured her. "How fares Rowena?"

Helga looked over to the bed. "Poorly," she admitted. "She—she thinks that—that asking the baron's son…that he might be able to bring Helena back."

Godric's expression darkened.

"Rowena begged me to send for him," Helga said quietly. "I—I think we must—"

"I will go," Godric said. "Better I than that two-faced—"

Rowena gave another moan, and Helga hushed him. "Helena is too clever to allow any of the three of us near her. She would never expect the boy."

"Well," Godric growled, "We have some time to think on it…we will bring Helena back when Rowena is well."

Helga hesitated. "But perhaps it would be easiest for Rowena to heal with Helena close by," she said. Godric frowned. "Or," Helga continued, and she was truly hesitant to give voice to this possibility, "If she hasn't much time, Godric," she whispered, almost inaudibly, "if Rowena is—if she is—"

Godric blinked. "No," he said flatly, his eyes flickering over to the bed. "No, she is not."

Helga said nothing, but simply clutched his hand tightly. They turned together to watch Rowena for a moment; she shifted slightly under her blankets, but did not wake. Then a shaft of bright golden light burst suddenly through the window, illuminating the blue and bronze decoration of the stone walls.

Helga looked around at the rising sun. "She wants to see Helena, Godric. We can do that, can we not?" She looked around. Godric's expression was steely beneath his thick beard; for one of the only times in their friendship and marriage, it was impossible for Helga to tell what he was thinking.

Then, suddenly, he turned to Helga, kissed her cheek gently, and said, "I will take a letter to the village." And he turned on his heel and left the room.

Helga sighed heavily, feeling relieved, and looked to the window once again. The sun was rising over the grounds and forest. With a sudden jolt of realization, she remembered it was her birthday. She looked around at Rowena, who coughed slightly, and approached the bed once again.

"Please, Rowena," Helga murmured, sitting down and soaking the cloth in the basin of water. "Get well, please…"