The heirs of the four founders of hogwarts

Deep Magic (Edited)

3rd POV

It was a dark and stormy night. Storm clouds blanketed the moonless sky as rain poured down from the heavens, lashing against the windows. The sound of thunder filled the air, making it nearly impossible to hear the person next to you. It seemed almost as if the world was tearing itself apart and crying from the effort of it.

It was a truly a frightening night to begin a new year at school. Nevertheless it was the night of the first of September nineteen ninety six, and thus a new year was about to begin at the esteemed Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

The arrival of first years through the flooded lake had been perilous to say the least but fortunately everyone reached the castle safely; if only cold and drenched. A quick drying and warming charm from the Deputy Headmistress Minerva McGonagall solved that problem.

In the gloomy mood, every student in the Great Hall was immersed in conversation while anxiously waiting for the new First Years to be sorted so they can have some food. Meanwhile at the Head table most of the teachers were feeling some unexplained uneasiness. However no one was feeling the disturbance in the atmosphere more than the revered Headmaster, Professor Albus Dumbledore.

Albus Dumbledore - Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorcerer, Chief Warlock, of the Wizengamot, and Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards – was no novice to assessing the situation by the atmosphere around a place. However today he could not guess what was wrong even though he had the nagging feeling that something very important was about to happen.

The sorting ceremony and dinner went without a hitch. Once the feast was over and the plates clear, Dumbledore got to his feet to begin his start-of-term speech. Just as he stood up, a sudden explosion sounded in the distance that shook the school to its hidden foundations. Teacher and student alike paused and looked in the direction of the sound, wondering what was happening. The distant crash of thunder and the constant pounding of rain, which were so loud a moment ago, now seemed muted and insignificant.

The Headmaster quickly asked for the students to settle down and ordered the prefects and head students to see that no one wandered out of the Hall. After that he swept outside the Great Hall, with most of the teachers on his heels.

Hogwarts shuddered once again, and then sighed.

Meanwhile, as the feast was going on inside the castle, in the central courtyard, several figures had appeared with a thunderous crack! They were now standing warily together, each with their back to the others.

The most conspicuously noticeable person was a male, who stood well over six feet tall. His brown like dirt hair was cut like modern days. A delicate dusting of equally Brown as dirt hair graced his battle-hardened features, forming and goatee. The wizard wore a griffin-skin cloak of deep crimson over scarlet robes and golden coloured battle armour. A heavy sword belt hung from his hip and a wand holder, it's scabbard empty. A long silver sword, encrusted with magnificent rubies was held firmly in the wizard's left hand, on which a signet ring—of twin golden lions carrying rubies in their mouths—rested proudly. A long Redwood wand was seen clutched on his right hand.

To the right of the man stood a beautiful woman, her Black-coloured hair swept up away from her neck to avoid the quiver of arrows secured there. Her bow was already in hand, an arrow notched and ready to be fired. The witch was dressed in bronze armoured robes and a deep blue Elven-weave cloak with a wand holder. On the fourth finger of the witch's left hand, two bronze rings intertwined with each other. The first, the one closest to the fingertip, showed a falcon, its eye a single sapphire. The falcon's wings were spread lovingly around the figure of the second ring, the head of a lion with a ruby held tight in its mouth. Around her delicate waist was a belt of linked bronze. A wand holster could be seen strapped to her right arm, giving her easy access to her filigreed mahogany wand.

Standing directly behind the witch was another woman, this with long beautifull brown hair the fades into blonde hair, that fell to her waist it was wavy, it was style in an updo with braides like a crown. Though her face was kindly, her dark forest green eyes glittered dangerously. This witch wore yellow battle robes with a black dragon hide cloak, and a black belt from which many potions and two empty sheaths hung. The contents of the sheaths—an ornately carved Ebony wand and a gold and onyx filigree dagger—were held lightly in her hands. On the witch's wedding finger was a set of two interweaving gold rings. The first, closest to the palm, was of a single coiled snake, with its tail wrapped firmly around an emerald. The second was the image of a badger which was encircled by the snake of the other ring. The badger held a black pearl in its paws.

To the left of the witch, there was yet another wizard, this one a bit larger than the first. This wizard's hair was just the same as the other one, though it was dark black and not long enough to tie back, leaving it to fall into his hard, gleaming green eyes. His robes were a deep forest green, and covered by a goblin-wrought silver breastplate and a matching sword belt. The sword—silver with a single large emerald set deep in the hilt—rested still in its scabbard. Over this, the wizard wore a naturally toned Basilisk-scale cloak, which shimmered between its true green and deep silver in the half moonlight of the courtyard. His signet ring—two silver snakes entwined with each other around a large, pure emerald—was easily seen on his left hand. The Basilisk-scale wand holster on the wizard's right arm was empty, its wand of pale Ash, carved all over with snakes, firmly clasped in his hand. Draped over the wizard's shoulders and all down his left arm, its body upright in the wizard's hand and fangs bared, was a long, thick snake, it's scales purest white from age, though the snake itself was still just as deadly as ever. It was poised and ready to strike.

Hearing footsteps coming down the hallway in front of the red robed wizard, the four strangers stood side by side—the two wizards in the centre, and the witches on the outside ready for battle. A tall, purple-robed wizard with long white hair and beard with blue eyes that shone from behind half-moon spectacles rounded the corner coming to a stop at the sight of the newcomers.

The four strangers exchanged looks of shock and incredulity at the appearance of this man. He was, after all, supposedly dead.

It was a while before the man found his voice.

"The Founders?" he asked disbelievingly. "No! This can't be possible!"

"I assure you," the green-swathed wizard said in a silky voice, drawing out all his 'S's far longer than necessary, as if it was his habit. "Whatever it is that 'can't be possible' is perfectly so, for this is Magic, my friend, and anything is possible to those with sufficient faith."