Disclaimer: I own not the Hogwarts founders, and am not claiming them, but the strange notions about legends and history and all that are all mine.

They were four

One brave, one shrewd, one kind, one wise

A heart, a mind, a hand, a will

Long ago in the old, green plains of England

Hiding from the world outside their special gifts

Homeless, runaways, with nowhere to turn to but that place

And no one to turn to but each other

Together in the old, green plains of England

In the blooming countryside

Where none knew and none suspected

Of what was to become of there

Of them

The four

They shared a common dream

A hope, a prayer, a grand plan,

A wisp of promise for a better future on the old, soft wind

Still young, untaught, untested

They built a straw-roofed cabin, a playing field, a well

Far away somewhere, where nobody would find them

And took in those who in the world had nothing

Except a wooden wand, a tattered robe

And a gift greater than all the world's gold

Soon in that small cabin were young voices

Soon on that small playing field trotted young feet

And the world changed, and grew smaller, and much friendlier,

Which sat well with the four; After all,

The cabin became a castle, and the group became a horde

And swiftly, all they were

Were the old Four, the legendary Four

Who kept watch over a dream come true

And the years went by

Things changed in the castle, four mighty towers now stood

A great hall, a lovely forest

A playing field sporting six hoops,

And children by the hundreds laughing in the corridor

And the four grew older,

And eventually went the way all go

Leaving behind not memories, not grieving friends

But a legend that only needed room to grow

They were remembered, the Four, in four great houses

Each with a glory all its own, each with a celebrated past

In bedtime songs mothers sang to their babies

In legends of courage, wisdom, kindness, evil

Memorized in marble, wood and glass

In paintings and in sonnets and in thick books

Dusting quietly deep in each library's bowels

In chronicles and parchment and the awed whisper

Of every student in the castle; every child

Who knew their names and knew their dream and their great deeds

As did the entire Hidden World

But what they do not know

Is how one loved and longed and lost

And how one kept a diary

Bound in soft blue velvet

How one burst into song among the flowers

How one sneered all day and cried all night

And of a swing, a tree-house, a first kiss, a tender touch

And games played in the sunset

And hates and fears and loves and hopes and dreams

In the small cabin, under a crumbling roof

And beneath the starry open sky

Four marble statues stand at the gate to the castle.

~~ End ~~