Disclaimer: Everything here (besides the few things you don't know) belongs to JK Rowling, creator of the worlds of Harry Potter.

A/N: Welcome! Welcome my old readers from other fics and welcome those who may have stumbled on this just now! Welcome one and all to the prequel of my Founders fic! Yes, you have heard it right. It is the prequel of a story that tells the tale of the four founders of Hogwarts. Therefore, it is my duty to warn you that while it is not necessary to read Tale of a Time Long Gone first, it would be very much advisable. Continue at your own risk.

And so, without further ado, let the fun begin! Short chapter, I know, but keep in mind that this is only the prologue. The other chapters would be much longer than that. This is only about a third of the usual length of my chapters.

Oh, and yes. I have decided to continue my tradition of adding an excerpt from a book at the beginning of each chapter. In this story, it would be from the book written by Rowena's father, mentioned in chapters 5 and 6 of Tale.

Enjoy!

Fall from Grace

A Pre-Founders Tale

Summary: Before the Founding Four were even born, a band of men roamed the lands of magic. Their duty was one: protect and uphold the magical realms. This is the story of the lives before the legend. It is the story of the two strongest women who had stood at the background of Tale of a Time Long Gone and of the merely mentioned shadows who were their husbands. It is the story of the parents of the Founders.

While reading Tale, have you ever wanted to know why Marcus Gregory was so afraid of Ceridwen? Did you ask yourself who were Gawain Gryffindor and Raven Lord? Did you wish for more concrete reasons to hate Ambrosius?

Everything that was in the background of Tale comes to life here, in Fall from Grace.

Prologue

"To Ambrosius,

"Someone once told me that every end marks the beginning of something else. As the years passed, I learned to see the truth in those words. Every part of my life that had ended always marked something new for me. The death of my father led to my early start in the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix. The death of a woman loved by many led me to find my own love. There are many examples for that saying being true, but for every rule there is the exception.

"What kind of beginning marks the end of the Order? Where will we go from here? Where will our world go to now, when there is not longer the Order to protect it from the harms of Dark Magic and Muggles? Will they go to you and to your degenerated Council? Will they come to you for aid and protection?

"Myself, I very much doubt that. You have lost their faith, their loyalty. You have condemned yourself and those who follow you. I may have lost my position, but you - if you continue in the same course you have set yourself at, you will lose everything, including your life.

"Would you take the advice of an old adversary? Will you listen to what I have to say? Again, I find myself doubting the probability of that. You were always stubborn, always too centered on your goals instead of your wellbeing.

"I send you this book not so I can taunt you. I send it not so that I can remind that I am still out there, out of your reach. No. I send you this for one purpose only. I send it in order to show you what you have put to waste, what you have ruined.

"I send this to you in order to teach you a lesson in humility.

"Will you learn that lesson, my lord? Will you listen to my advice, spoken from the distance of years? That is a question I cannot answer. Only you can. I ask Merlin that you would give our people, and yourself, that chance.

"Raven Lord, the Glen."

- The Legacy of the Phoenix, A Study of History (cover page of only surviving copy); Ryan Ravenclaw

Early winter hit the Glen hard that year. Its funnel-like natural build usually meant that it remained sheltered and relatively pleasant until the heavy snows of winter's heart had arrived. But that winter was different. The rains arrived early, soaking the dark, heavy ground after the extremely dry summer. Down in Caerwyn Valley the farmers blessed these rains, delighted that they had come to water their parched fields. Up in the Glen, however, the sole, novice cultivator cursed with all his might - out of his wife's hearing, naturally.

Ryan Ravenclaw stood by his poor, flooded vegetable patch, his hands on his hips, and scowled at the stormy sky, not caring about being drenched to the bone, letting out strings of foul words.

It was only his second winter there, the first one being rather mild, and so he was caught by surprise when the rains ruined his carefully trimmed vegetable patch. It was so hard to bring the patch to its current state, too. For a farmer this would not have been a problem, having been growing his own food since childhood, but this young man had never had to grow his own food. Food had never been an issue to him. His business was not farming.

Ryan Ravenclaw's business was war.

For a full decade he had led the Order of the Knights of the Phoenix in their fight to protect the Wizarding World from their prejudiced neighbours, the Muggles, and from internal enemies - Dark Wizards and their minions. He had been good at his job, he knew it. He had the talent and the strength of mind, body and arm. He had the sense of perseverance, putting duty before his own wellbeing. He missed it - the armour, the hefting of the heavy sword, the heat of battle… he wanted nothing more than to get it all back.

Then what was he doing in the Glen, a desolate place which no one would venture into aside of a few shepherds and their flocks? If he had been asked this, he would not have been able to reply. He did not know what he was doing there. He could have chosen any place in the isles. His men, those who had supported him through fire and water, would have all sheltered him and his wife. They would have offered him their homes. They would have hidden them from the searching eyes of the Council of Warlocks. They would have protected them from the death warrant over their heads.

Exile, on the penalty of death. Were those not the words? Join them or be exiled for life. Of course he had chosen exile. And he could not let any of the men he held dear risk their lives for him. It had been his choice, and they would not be the ones to pay the price. That was the reason behind his residence in the Glen. It was the only way to save their lives. He would not put any of them in danger. Never again.

Looking at the misty scenery around him, wistfully giving up on his overly saturated vegetable patch, he could not help but remember the dances in the warm hall of the Gryffindor residence, the friendly banter and pleasant evenings passed idly with his friend, teacher and subordinate, the lord of that wonderful hall, the laughter of women, the schemes that had brought him to where he was now - happily married.

What would he have done had those schemes failed? And more importantly, where would he have been? Had he never met her, would he still have been the Lord Commander of the Order? He had no doubt about the reasoning that had led Ambrosius into giving him that ultimatum. It had all been about her. It had always been about her.

Ambrosius could never live down the fact that the scrawny, clumsy, orphaned boy had snatched her from his clutches.

Her…

Rosalind. Ryan loved her so much. She had been the center of his world ever since that first night he had laid his eyes one her. He could not believe that he had almost lost her. What had they done wrong? They had given up on so many things because it was not right. They did everything according to the Lore, knowing that they had to make the sacrifice in order to save the lives of many others. They had done everything in order to make other people safe, sacrificing their hopes and dreams, their reputation and their years together - so why could they not live in peace now that the Lore no longer mattered?

He almost felt ill at thinking that. The Lore no longer mattered. The Lore. The thing according to which he had led his entire life was worth nothing now. It no longer mattered. The foundations of his life had been shattered. And after all that, he and Rosalind still could not be happy.

All they wanted was to start a family. They had dreamed of a large family, many sons and daughters to shape in their image, to teach and love. Was it too much to ask after the heavy price they had paid?

Their dreams were now in ashes, their hope broken. There will be no more children, the rural midwife had said. Giving birth to that one tiny girl had almost killed his Rosalind. There will be no more children.

There was so much blood.

Sighing, and silently cursing their bad luck that seemed to follow them ever since they had met on that bleak, cold day almost eight years before, after her childhood friend had been put to earth, he started making his way back to the house he had built with his own two hands, clumsily, but solidly.

Maybe that was why their relationship had suffered so much, he thought. Maybe Seraphine's spirit had seen it as a slight to her memory that they had found happiness because she had lost her life.

But no. Seraphine had been a kind, good woman, who had wished nothing but to make her friends and family happy - he had known her well enough to know that. She would never do such a thing, not even in spirit. Then why? Why could they not live in peace?

Sighing yet again, he reached the door and prepared himself to go in, plastering a bright smile on his face, and desperately trying to think up a convincing lie about the state of their vegetable garden. He could not bear see the broken look in her eyes again.

"How are you feeling, love?" he asked as he opened the door, carefully wiping his feet and removing his boots before entering.

"Ill," Rosalind replied without much humour in her dry voice, her normally lively eyes tired and sunken. She was holding the little bundle that was their little girl, Rowena, to her breast, nursing the tiny child.

"Still in pain?" he asked gently, masking his sorrow as best he could. They never expected it to be so hard to bring a child into the world, not to speak of deadly. They imagined it being the best moment of their lives. They thought that it would mark the beginning of a new, better era for both of them.

"A little," she admitted bravely, though he knew that this time she was not precisely telling him the truth. Often since their little one was born he woke up in the night to hear her whimper or even cry out in pain. Madam Hufflepuff, the nearby village's midwife who had helped her said it would lessen in time, but it had been almost a month since.

"Just a little?" he asked, his voice worried even though he had attempted to mask that feeling.

She nodded. "But it is passing. Really, Ryan!" she added, apparently catching his torn expression and disbelief. "I will be fine."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that, Rosa," he said softly, touching her cheek, pain in his voice. He had almost lost her that night a month ago. He had been so afraid that she would not come out of the birth chamber alive.

"I'm not," she startled him, her voice firm. "I'm glad I went through with it, Ryan. Admittedly, it was not fun, but at least we have Rowena to show for it, and I could not imagine a better girl than her."

And it was true. Born three weeks before the appointed time, Rowena was a tiny thing. When he had first held her in his arms, Ryan thought she was more like a child's plaything than a real baby. Even though Madam Hufflepuff, through years of experience, had told them that the chances of the little one surviving were very slim, Rowena seemed determined to live and was as healthy as she possibly could have been. She was not a fussy baby, only rarely crying in the middle of the night. Rosalind was right. She was the best girl they could have asked for.

"Well, then," he said. "If you have no regrets, then I do not have them either. Your happiness is my happiness, love. You know that."

"Did you ever doubt that?" she asked, raising an eyebrow.

For a while they were silent, Ryan stirring up the fire and Rosalind nursing Rowena. They did not need words. They were simply content being in each other's company. They had learned to treasure that company after years of secrecy.

"A letter had arrived for you this morning while you were out," Rosalind suddenly said as she was buttoning up her front a little while later. The tone of her voice was wary, as though she was not sure if the unexpected arrival was a good thing or a bad one.

"A letter?" he asked in surprise. "Who would send me a letter? I've been exiled, have I not?" If someone had sent him a letter, then it meant that someone had discovered his whereabouts, and if that was the case… they were no longer safe there. He did not want to move again, but he would not risk the lives of his wife and daughter.

"You exiled yourself, my love," she said with a soft smile, fondly touching his arm, "and made me very proud. As for the letter…" she shrugged, pulling her shoulders in the age-old gesture that meant she had no idea. "As I was saying, it came this morning via owl. The handwriting is somehow familiar, but the person writing it was very agitated or in pain and the letters are not fully formed. I did not open it. It was clearly addressed to you."

Holding Rowena to her side in one arm, she used her free hand to pick up a fine, sealed parchment that was on the table behind her. The seal was familiar, but he could not be sure where he had seen it before. It was not one of his men's seals, or of anyone of the Council. Frowning, he took the letter from her and without much hesitation, snapped the seal, and then slowly went through the contents.

A moment later the parchment fell from his numbed fingers, a horrified expression on his face. It could not be. Not this. Not now. How could this have happened?

"Ryan?" Rosalind called, startled.

Tears fell down his cheeks, unchecked.

"Ryan?" she repeated softly, getting up and walking towards him, the widely staring Rowena in her arms.

For a while he said nothing, his eyes staring at the empty space before him. Then, his eyes not meeting hers, he croaked "They are dead. Gawain and Searlas. They are dead."

Well? What did you think? Please tell me!

The story will now go twenty years back in time and there will start the real story… are you ready? Next update is in a week's time. See you there!

Love to everyone!

-Star of the North