Year 991
It was a calm, starry night. The moon shone brightly, casting the long shadows of four young figures as they stood in awe, admiring the greatest magical feat ever known. This was to be an impregnable fortress, designed for defence against any invasion, while simultaneously laying the foundations of what they hoped would be a prosperous and enduring legacy: their grand contribution to the world. The particular location had been chosen with great deliberation. Neither the Forbidden Forest nor the Great Lake would allow easy access; any who dared to try would find their efforts futile. This was to be their school, a place where they would instruct children in the control, channelling, and proper application of their magical abilities. Such was their intention, their grandest ambition.
"Do you truly believe that creature was necessary?" the first man inquired, his voice laced with concern.
"She won't harm any of the students," the second man assured him confidently. "Her orders are to harm only that which poses a threat to the castle."
"It's worrying that only you are immune to her charms," remarked the first woman, her gaze fixed on the castle with a mixture of admiration and unease. "You know I trust your judgement implicitly."
Only one of them, the silent founder, remained quiet. He was the one who had enchanted the very staircases to shift their positions and who had devised an infallible system for detecting his future students. Suddenly, his gaze turned white, and he collapsed.
Hours later, in the castle's infirmary, none of them had imagined one of their own would be its first patient, yet there they were. The three friends watched over their companion, the visionary founder, who was slowly regaining consciousness. Concern etched their faces. They knew their friend possessed a unique gift, a particular ability. Rarely had this peculiarity manifested in such a dramatic fashion; what he had witnessed must have been profoundly serious or traumatic. They waited in silence, granting him the space to speak when he was ready.
"Hogwarts will face grave danger. Not this year, nor in ten, nor even this century," the recovering founder finally uttered, his voice weak. "I saw a glimpse of a calendar, showing our work will endure for a thousand years, perhaps more. Darkness will gather and take root in this place, with seven anchors surrounding a monstrous giant with a reptilian countenance."
"There is no creature matching that description," the sword-wielding founder declared, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword. He was tense, as he always was in the face of a threat, ever ready to confront any foe to protect the innocent and defenceless.
"It's a metaphor," the other founder clarified, his brow furrowed in thought. "The monster with seven anchors and the face of a snake. The question is, a metaphor for what?"
"We have to do something," the first woman stated firmly, breaking the tense silence that had fallen after her partner's words. "Magic would not have sent him that vision if it didn't require our intervention."
"You cannot travel that far back in time," the second woman, whose countenance was both affable and noble, cautioned. "Travel to the past is perilous; the paradoxes it could create would tear the very fabric of the universe. As for travelling to the future... we know not what we might encounter, nor if such a feat has ever been attempted."
"There's something we can do," the visionary founder continued, his voice gaining a desperate edge. "But you won't like it. Only one kind of magic would allow us to be there. It isn't truly dark, but it skirts the edges of such magic. It's dangerous magic. We would have to bind our very souls to the castle, allowing it to release them when it senses the impending threat. We cannot anticipate the exact moment."
"And once our souls are freed, what then?" the first woman inquired, pushing herself up to sit on the edge of the stretcher.
"They would wander until they found the appropriate vessel for reincarnation. It shouldn't take more than forty years to find the ideal one."
"And if one of our own blood cannot defeat it, then after that time, it will be someone compatible by ability or aptitude," the sword-wielding founder concluded, realising where his friend's thoughts were leading. "You're right, I don't like that plan. I'm not one for patience."
Year 1942
The death of that student sent shockwaves through the school. Rumours of closure circulated throughout the castle; the professors were utterly distraught, unable to find a culprit. The castle itself, with the souls fused within its very stones, felt the darkness fester and grow within its walls. This darkness reached its climax two nights after the girl's tragic death. With the unjust expulsion of an innocent who saw only the good in all creatures, and the appearance of the first of the anchors, the ancient souls were freed, beginning their search for a suitable vessel – the ideal body in which their potential would awaken and their rebirth would be complete.