AN: Hi there, just a quick few words before this story starts. I know the Marriage Law is a very tired trope in the HP FanFic universe, but seeing as I've never had a go at it, I would like to explore a different angle. Also, I have changed a few things from canon, mainly that Sirius Black did not die in the Department of Mysteries. I'm sure that down the line I will change a few things from canon, but I will try to be as true to canon as possible. All the best! Reviews are always appreciated, and let me know that I should continue with a fic.

Flames licked at the stone walls of the Hogwarts classroom where the three of them had agreed to meet that night. The wisest of the three sat at a great oak desk, an eagle feather quill grasped in her ink-stained fingers. She wrote and rewrote the words that the other two had been dictating, making the necessary changes. It needed to be clear, and magically binding. When they signed, a bit of their magic would be poured into the contract. Being the heads of the Wizarding community in Europe, their signatures made the document legal. And there could be no room for error. Not if he was to be stopped.

"What's the penalty then, Godric, if either of them do not comply?"

Godric Gryffindor, swathed in bolts of gold and crimson crushed velvet, stood at the window, looking out at the black night sky. He drank from his chalice, the mulled mead now growing cold. He turned and addressed Helga.

"It must be harsh. Harsh enough that no wizard, pure-blood, Muggle-born or anywhere in between, would wish to break the law."

Rowena set the eagle feather quill down, and stretched her aching hand. She knew the solution. She just hoped she wouldn't be the one to propose it.

"Complete revocation of magical ability," Rowena said, her tone betraying nothing of her nervousness. There was much that rode on this document. Her eyesight was failing her in the late hour of the night, and her energy waned. She didn't have much time left, that much she knew. She wanted the document finished. She wanted Helena back before her illness took her. The document was the key to that happening.

"Rowena," Helga whispered, her hand placed lightly over her mouth. "That's… unspeakable."

"More unspeakable than what Salazar is saying? And if what Helena has told me is true, he already has placed a failsafe within the castle, that his heir might carry out his legacy."

"Rowena is right, Helga," Godric said, placing his broad hand on Helga's shoulder. She adjusted the neckline of her yellow silk gown nervously. "It must be swift justice. The magical world cannot descend into such… arcane thinking. If Muggle-born and mixed-blood witches and wizards were completely excluded from the magical world… our race would die out. Magic would diminish."

"Helga, the only way to ensure that pure-blood wizards lay down such inflammatory ideology is that their bloodlines should include Muggle-born and mixed-blood witches and wizards. I hardly think that a pure-blood could make a case against his or her own family…"

"I just wish it weren't so final, Rowena," Helga said, setting down her favored chalice. "It feels wrong."

"It is much less wrong than the murder that Salazar Slytherin proposes. It is monstrous," Godric Gryffindor rested his palm on the ruby-hilted sword at his side, wishing for nothing else than to run it through Salazar Slytherin's belly. The man was a fanatic. What had once been a harmonious joining of the four of them had turned into a cauldron of suspicion, hate, and unspeakable wrongs.

"Very well," Helga said, rising from her chair and standing behind Rowena. "We must all sign it."

Rowena signed first, sliding the parchment over to Helga. Once Helga had added her own flowing script, Godric signed below without hesitation. There was only one signature left.

"How will you get him to sign it?" Helga asked Rowena.

She licked her lips. The young Baron von Metzger was a student of Slytherin house first and foremost, but he also loved Rowena's daughter fiercely. She knew that if he were promised a chance with Helena, he would do anything for Rowena.

"Von Metzger has been Salazar's favorite since his first year at Hogwarts. I believe I will be able to get him to trick Salazar into signing. It is our only hope."

The three of them all looked at the document with their signatures, the ink still not dry. Rowena swiftly left the room, rolling the parchment up and securing it with a ribbon. It would find its way into the hands of the Baron von Metzger, who swore on his own blood that he would get his head of house to sign it by bewitching it to look like school work. But the young Baron was an impatient boy of seventeen. He never made it to the dungeons that night, sure that if he secured Helena's affections, he could get Salazar Slytherin to sign in due time.

When news of the murder-suicide in the forest of Albania had reached Hogwarts, the three founders quickly rushed to the Baron's dormitory, looking for the document, hoping it bore a fourth and final, magically binding signature.

They tore apart the room, finding his school books, spare sheaves of parchment, but nothing that resembled their failsafe.

Not soon after, Rowena Ravanclaw, aided by her illness, died of a broken heart, and the magic that had been poured into the contract no longer existed outside of the document. Unable to draft another document, Godric and Helga resigned themselves to the uncertain future of the wizarding world. In textbooks written of the history of Hogwarts, the document naturally was never mentioned, but the most astute historians could never quite accept that the three founders sat idly by while their fourth partner plotted his unspeakable evil.

It would be nearly ten centuries before their suspicions were confirmed.

The light seared through the window of Number 12 Grimmauld Place, and onto Harry's still sleeping face. Ever since the end of the War, the house's wards were lifted, and all of the boarded-up windows were un-shuttered. Harry thought it was a good idea at first, until he realized the room Sirius made up for him had an east-facing window.

Fumbling around on his side table for his new wand, Harry found it and pointed it blindly at the window, raking the curtains shut. He grumbled and tossed over onto his side. He lay that way for several minutes before accepting that he could not go back to sleep.

Sleepily, Harry put his glasses on and padded barefoot down to the kitchen. There, a steaming pot of coffee waited for him. Harry and Sirius were in agreement that coffee was a necessity in the mornings—tea would simply not cut it.

Harry sat with his black coffee at the kitchen table. His godfather, already dressed in his trousers, a crisp white shirt and blue velvet waistcoat, sat reading the Daily Prophet. He peered over the top of the paper at his eighteen-year-old godson, whose hair stood in all different directions.

"Morning," Sirius said, setting his paper down and swapping it for his own mug.

"Mmmm," Harry replied. He ran a hand through his unruly hair. "Maybe we shouldn't have taken the boards off the windows after all."

"Nonsense, Harry," Sirius said cheerfully. "If you'd spent as much time indoors as I have, you'd want as much sunlight as you could get. I'll not spend my new, free life as a hermit."

With his coffee half gone, Harry's eyes didn't hurt so badly, and he was able to focus. He pulled Sirius's Daily Prophet to himself to read the headline. "'Minister of Magic Seeks to Rebuild Historic Hogwarts' by Luna Lovegood." Harry smiled. Luna had taken a position as a writer at the Daily Prophet, as well as her side project, The Quibbler. Her father had been none-too-pleased that she was taking a conventional job, but ever since the end of the War, Luna had been doing a wonderful job of covering the efforts to rebuild wizarding society.

"School's going to be under construction this year," Sirius said, absentmindedly. "Even with magic, it will take ages to rebuild. So I hear, they stumbled across several rooms that had been sealed up. Had to bring in historians and archivists before they could start to rebuild."

Harry nodded. He'd had enough of hidden rooms and the secrets that Hogwarts held. He wanted nothing more than a normal life. But, seeing as he had chosen to become an Auror, that was not likely to happen for some time. Who else but he could make sure that all traces of Dark Magic were eradicated from their world?

"I think I've just found a place," Harry said, smoothing his hair down. "I won't be here much longer."

The look on Sirius's face pained Harry. Sirius had enjoyed the past summer with Harry to share the large house. But, Harry was an adult, and had mentioned his search for a place of his own not too long ago.

"Oh?" Sirius prompted.

"Yeah, Ron and I were going to go in for a place near Diagon Alley. So he can help with Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. And it's not a far walk to the Ministry either."

"You know you're welcome here as long as you like," Sirius said kindly, hoping he wasn't betraying his own insecurities.

"I know, Sirius, it's just…" Harry twirled his mug a bit. "I think I need to have a place of my own. All my life I've been transferred from one place to another, feeling like it wasn't ever permanent. The Dursleys' house, Hogwarts. Hogwarts was my home, but I can't stay there now."

"I know how you feel, Harry," Sirius said. He really did. Hogwarts had become his home when he was eleven years old, and when he ran away from his parents, the Godric's Hollow became his home, but it was never really his. Even Grimmauld Place reminded him of his unhappy childhood, but it was still more his than any other place he had been. Harry did not have that luxury. The Potter home was still derelict. It could be repaired, but only when Harry decided.

"Are you sure this is ok?" Harry asked.

Sirius nodded compassionately. He stood, and kissed his godson on the top of his messy mop of hair. "Has Ginny tried to tackle this mane yet?" Sirius set his mug in the sink and leaned back against the counter.

"Always. But it's no use. Never is." Harry smiled, following Sirius's lead and depositing the mug in the sink. "Better get a move-on before I'm late for work. There's a seizure of Dark books to be done today. Can't miss it."

"Malfoys?" Sirius asked hopefully.

"You know I can't discuss work," Harry said, a twinkle in his eyes. The large grin that spread across his face said everything.

Hermione Granger's wand stuck out of her messy, curly bun. Poring through the documents found in the sealed-off room of the Hogwarts library, Hermione was sure she would not sleep for an entire year. There were so many texts for her to read, and only a handful were in English. The majority were Old English or Latin, giving Hermione even more of a headache. Still, she loved the challenge. After being able to take all of her NEWTS, Hermione longed for something that stimulated her intellectually.

Having taken a job at the Department of Historical Preservation at the Ministry of Magic, Hermione was not lacking for stimulation since the discovery at Hogwarts. She only regretted her wish slightly.

Rubbing her tired eyes, Hermione rose from her desk, and headed for the break room where she made herself a cup of tea. It was bagged, but she wasn't picky at the moment. Blowing on the hot liquid, she barely noticed when Percy Weasley had said her name not once, but twice already.

"Hermione!" he said, waving a hand in front of her face.

"Oh, Percy," she said, shaking herself from her daze. She smiled weakly. "Yes?"

"The documents—" he prompted.

"Oh, yes, I'm sorry. I'll have the report done soon. I am just working on a few more translations, and then I should be able to sign off on the library for construction."

"Well, the Minister is getting a lot of pressure from parents. Apparently they are appalled that their students will be attending classes in Grasmere rather than Scotland this year. Shacklebolt is hoping to get the students back into the castle before Christmas."

"Christmas?" Hermione shouted, and then lowered her voice. "Christmas, Percy? Do you have any idea how long it takes to translate all these documents? To go over the magical blueprints of the school? If we don't review all of the new finds at the school, we could very well be looking at another Chamber of Secrets."

Percy swallowed hard. He knew all-too-well what the Chamber of Secrets had done to his dear sister. He struggled with his desire to please Shacklebolt, and his desire to do right by Hogwarts. In the end, he would always choose career, he feared.

"I know, Hermione, but with You-Know-Who—" ("—Voldemort" Hermione corrected) Percy cleared his throat. "With Voldemort gone, what more could possibly go wrong? The worst is behind us Hermione. Why can't you just ease up?"

"You'll forgive me, Perce, if I am not so quick to forget the last seven years of my life as you are." Hermione huffed, and turned her back on Percy, making her way back to her desk.

"That report then?" he called out to her.

She grumbled, and shouted back, "It will be done this afternoon. I'll leave it on my desk."

It took Hermione a good five minutes before she could bring herself to look at another text. She gently pulled the brittle blue ribbon apart, and unfurled the parchment. About two lines in, Hermione's stomach filled with ice. Before she had even translated the whole text, she could still make out the three signatures at the bottom.

Rowena Ravenclaw

Helga Hufflepuff

Godric Gryffindor

Her heart began a race, and she started at the beginning, fumbling for a fresh sheet of parchment to start the translation from Old English.

"Of magical blood that's pure,

let all but love endure.

To make our numbers strong,

let not the words of the fanatical belong,

but unity's truth be heard

and the lines of purity be blurred…"

Hermione couldn't believe her own eyes. A document from the founders of Hogwarts. Suddenly aware that she was touching a thousand-year-old document, Hermione snatched her cup of tea off her desk and rushed to the break room to place it in the sink. There was no way she was going to risk any damage to the parchment.

"Hermione!" she heard her name called yet again. She huffed in frustration. Who wanted her now?

It was Harry. He was rushing to her, a serious look on her face. It was a look she had hoped to never see again. She hadn't seen it since Voldemort's defeat. Suddenly Harry was all she could think about.

"What, what is it?" She swallowed her fear, lest she show Harry that she had not truly recovered from the last year of their lives.

"Malfoy," he said, his eyes sharp. "The book seizure? Well, we've found something you ought to come look at."

"Harry, what is it?" she asked more urgently.

"Salazar Slytherin's diaries," he said, his tone grave. "I wouldn't let anyone touch them. Not until you came."

"Harry," Hermione started hesitantly. "I'm swamped enough as it is. Kinglsey wants to get a move-on with the library, and my report is almost done. I've just found something that needs my attention…" She inspected Harry's face further. There was no way she could deny her best friend when he needed her. She sighed, and turned around. "Let me just put some things in order, and I'll come."

"Thank you, Hermione!" Harry said, his relief clear on his face.

At her desk, Hermione hastily considered the artifact. Most of the Dark wizards in the ministry had been dismissed from their posts or imprisoned, but Hermione took no chances. She hastily stacked a few sheaves of parchment on top of the document, hiding it in plain sight, and followed Harry to Malfoy Manor.

While Hermione and Harry raced to the library of Malfoy Manor and looked over the personal journals of the Slytherin forefather with the Malfoy family looking on in anger, unable to legally object to the seizure, Percy Weasley raced through the Ministry completing his tasks in record time. As promised, Hermione had left her report on her desk, ready for the Minister's signature. With a smile on his face, he grabbed the small stack of papers and raced off to Kingsley's office. Good old Hermione. Always came through.