The grass was green in the summer haze of beautiful birds and the lazy current in the vast lake. Until-

"Godric Gryffindor, you arrogant, pompous, moronic fool!" cried the seething hazel eyed lady, magic crackling about her in a whirl of anger.

"Row, it was just a joke," laughed Godric, the tall, broad shouldered man in an extravagant velvet coat, raised up his hands in defeat, "Honestly woman!"

His blue eyes twinkled in humor. Godric had wavy red hair, and sun-kissed freckles, brash, was tall and gawky at times with a hot temper, but was fiercely loyal to whomever met his standards.

'Row' drew herself up to her full height, her long wild brown hair seeming to crackle with electricity. Her flowing long, delicate gown didn't deflect any of her massive amount of anger. She was a sharp women, and thought that Godric was too childish for his own good. She raised an eyebrow.

"Don't you call me that, Gryffindor," she hissed pulling out her wand threateningly, "And it was NOT a joke- it could be very dangerous, experimental magic that you tampered wi-"

"Relax, Rowena," cut in Godric, easily dodging a spell that Rowena cast with impeccable speed, "Seriously, nothing bad's happened yet-"

"That doesn't mean that it won't happen!" Rowena said, voice rising with each syllable, "We could be compromising the very safety of this school with the magic you used!"

"It's light magic, Row, its not like-"

"Light magic," she cried, "It doesn't matter you idiot!"

"Protego!" a silver shield expanded between the two, and Godric and Rowena immediately whirled around to face the female voice whom had incanted the spell.

"You, two, stop it now," cut in a red-headed girl with a flower in her long flowing hair. She stomped over in an exasperated manner as though she was used to these kind of quarrels.

She was barefoot and freckle faced, her appearance of a young carefree girl in a yellow sundress, but her face serious and manner practical, "You're not helping matters in the least if you just bicker about it!".

"Helga's right," intoned a dark cloaked man who had just walked down the corridor, black hair pulled back neatly and green eyes slightly narrowed on the two, "It won't do very much good at all."

"Hello, Helga, Salazar," said Godric nodding at the two, and rolling his eyes slightly at Rowena, "Honestly though, what's the big deal?"

Salazar sent Godric a furtive glance that seemed to say 'Shut up, shut up now'. Salazar's rather morbid appearance with almost all black was a stark contrast to the happy scenery, but he seemed unaware, sleek, and carelessly elegant.

"What are the effects of the magic that Godric 'tampered with'?" inquired Salazar carefully to Rowena, who looked as though she might explode with indignation.

"The effects of the incantation in the spell that Gryffindor here used," started Rowena, voice a forced calm, "Sends our souls, meaning our hearts, minds, and even appearances to Hogwart's rightful heirs of the future when we die."

Godric looked horrified. "But-" he protested. Salazar gave him a look again and he quieted. Rowena shot Godric a scathing look and continued-

"Here is the catch- our heirs keep their memories, and most definitely get our memories from when we were small children to when we are 17 years old."

"Oh, lord," whispered Helga, brown eyes wide with realization, "They are going to be so confused...it could ruin their lives!"

They all soaked this in in their shock. Salazar absent-mindedly stroked the silvery long snake, many reptilian scales reflecting in the sun.

"And if I am correct," continued Rowena, sparks flying from her wand where her fingers where grasped tightly, "They will receive our memories when they are approximately 16, and they will continue to gain our future memories as they age."

"But that spell was meant to switch around the staircases for a week, not this," he said, ears turning red in frustration, "I just added a little fun latin at the end to- er- spice it up a little!"

"Some magic and 'fun latin' doesn't mix!" Salazar snapped, eyes boring into Godrics, "If you don't know your Latin by heart, don't experiment with it, you idiot!"

Godric sighed and looked rather compliant with his actions. His ears seemed to be flushing red as he stared solemnly at the ground, all humor forgotten. He braced himself for the rising tempers of his friends.

"And what of our poor heirs," Helga demanded, warm brown eyes panicked, "Are there any side-effects to this- this- horrid mistake?"

'Side-effects' were particularly common in mispronounced or tampered spells- sometimes they went wrong and the unfortunate victim will sprout donkey ears, sleep for hundreds of years, have a bad habit of losing shoes, spastic time travel, and in some cases, even death occurs.

There was a heavy silence.

"I don't know." Rowena said quietly, looking as if she was on the verge of tears.

"A-are there any counter spells?" asked Godric, looking shocked and deflated, freckles standing out more on his face, "Or- what time do you think they'll recie-"

"I don't deal with tampered magic!" snapped Rowena, a mask of anger. She suddenly seemed to loose her angry exterior and sighed in hopelessness, her fiery outward anger dissipating into an expression of fear.

She lowered her wand slightly in defeat.

"Oh, Rowena," Helga said pulling the girl into her arm, "What would we do without you..." Rowena sighed and smiled at the younger girl.

"It wasn't your fault," said Rowena in a small voice to a very guilty looking Godric, "You are a brilliant fighter- but you were just being an idiot. You didn't mean anything."

Godric sighed, suddenly looking like a child playing dress up in his kingly outfit and ruby encrusted sword. His eyes met hers in a imploringly.

"Yeah, I'm real sorry, I mean, really." There was another silence, all deeply thinking about their confused heirs, and wondering about the future. Salazar was the first to look up, a turbulent look in his stormy green eyes.

"Ut heredibus nostris confortamini. Quia per heredem adducam Hogwarts futurum in modum triumphi titulo accedit." Salazar said, scraping up the old Latin that he knew, and informing the castle's sentient magic of this new turn of events.

Translation: "May our heirs be strong. Hogwarts shall know the way of the heir that will bring the future into triumph."

Magic, of dark greens and silvers seemed to pour out of his steel wand sleek and smooth. The other founders took his lead and each bent their heads and let their pride flow into their powerful magic: Helga's magic danced and swayed in the colors of yellow and black, Rowena's elegant burst of royal blue and bronze twirled about, and Godric's majestic fire of red and gold crackled merrily.

They all watched reverently as their magic streamed into the stone and woodwork of the castle and faded into the stones they themselves had set.

The castle rumbled ominously, magic trickling deep into its framework and settling in its stone heart.

"Very well, makers of the land, founder of the foursome, I shall wait until your rightful heirs shall return..." The rumbling ceased, and the founders were left to hope that their heirs were worthy, and that the future was not in shambles.