They were the four greatest witches and wizards of their time; Godric Gryffindor, Rowena Ravenclaw, Helga Hufflepuff, and Salazar Slytherin. And now, they were gone, leaving only their legacy behind.

Hogwarts, their school, still flourished. Four objects, from four founders, had once existed, hidden in the depths of time, handed down in their families through the ages. Only Gryffindor’s sword remained, as a showpiece in the Headmistress’ office at Hogwarts. The others, Hufflepuff’s cup, Slytherin’s locket and Ravenclaw’s tiara, had been lost, only a chosen few knowing their location or their importance.

The four founders’ powers had not been spent entirely on Hogwarts, and their own families. They had worked together to create one last stronghold of ancient magic, a mysterious space far out of the way of ordinary wizards. Very few knew of it, a secret held by the four most powerful witches and wizards and shared only with a few. But like the objects, the knowledge passed down the generations, until a time when all would know.

The Deathly Hallows they called it. This was not the original name bestowed by the founders, but one that had surfaced after their death, when the Deathly Hallows became the burial place of the founders. Four founders, four tombs. Maybe this had been planned, maybe not. They only ones who could truly know were the four who lay here, in their marble tombs.

They had been the same for centuries, ever since Helga, the final founder, was laid to rest. They never changed, the same dark cavern, the same tombs, the same statues and runes.

Until somebody else found out the secret.

* * * * * * * * * *

The first person to enter the Deathly Hallows for years arrived at twilight. The sun had faded below the horizon as, slowly, the hidden door creaked open to reveal a small, balding man. He looked around the room furtively before entering, almost as if he expected someone to be in wait for him.

They weren’t. The small man crept across the floor, the only sound the pattering of his feet on the cold stone floor. Still checking the shadows for disturbances, the man made his was cautiously to the centre of the room, and the raised memorial.

It was an abandoned memorial, forgotten about by almost all. Never looked at, flowers never laid at its feet, but still the people were remembered daily. Everyone who was or had ever been at Hogwarts knew the names, the names given to the four Houses. Tonight, and for a long time after, the memorial would serve a different purpose.

It would still be in the shadows. It would still be forgotten, but, this time, one man would remember. Lord Voldemort would never forget the memorial. And neither would his servant, Wormtail.

Staring up at the memorial, Wormtail withheld a shiver of dread. A glint of silver shone across the room as he place his hand inside his cloak, drawing out a sparkling silver object, along with his thin oak wand.

He had been better than all the other Death Eaters, more trustworthy. He had come back to find his master. And now he had been entrusted with this important job, to deliver an item of his master's here, to these tombs, and to lay exactly the enchantments the Dark Lord had described on the cavern. The Dark Lord trusted him, Wormtail.

Wormtail had no idea why he was there though. All he knew was what he had to do, not why or what the precious object was for. Why did the Dark Lord need a tiara anyway, Wormtail wondered, placing it on the high plinth above the memorial exactly the way he had been told to.

Suddenly, the eerie silence in the Deathly Hallows was broken by a noise from outside.

Wormtail jumped, turning quickly to find out the source of the noise. There was nothing behind him, nothing that could have made a noise at any rate. All he could see was the same as what he had seen on his way in, nothing different, nothing strange. Checking over his shoulder a final time, Wormtail resumed his job. The Dark Lord would not be happy if he didn’t get it right…

Concentrating hard, Wormtail began to place the first of a long series of protective spells. The Dark Lord had explained each one to him, many times. It was important that they were got right, very important, as this was a highly significant object. Its hiding place had to be just right.

Wormtail was proud to have been entrusted with the task, and his pride was only slightly reduced by the fact that he was the only one able to do it. The Dark Lord couldn’t, not in his current state. But all they needed was Harry Potter, and that would all be changed. The Dark Lord would become all powerful again, Wormtail was sure, and he, Wormtail, would be rewarded as a loyal follower.

Steadily, he worked on into the night, setting each charm, spell or curse into place exactly as it should be. Double checking and triple checking each one, Wormtail steadily moved on, until he reached the very last spell. Muttering under his breath –he’d never mastered non-verbal spells- Wormtail cast the very last enchantment and stared across the cavern towards the centre.

The glint of silver on the plinth of the memorial suggested the position of the tiara, but that was it. The enchantments were hidden well, lying in wait until disturbed by unwanted presences. Wormtail closed the heavy wooden door on the silent tombs, satisfied with his work.

To look at, the Deathly Hallows were unchanged. Only a few would ever find it, hidden by history, secrets and location, and even less would ever enter, never knowing what was inside. Only Wormtail and Voldemort would know that.

But Wormtail would not be told what the importance of the object was, or why it needed so many protective spells and such a secret location. Despite being a trusted Death Eater, the only one to return to the Dark Lord, Wormtail had not been told.

So he would never know that there was a Horcrux hiding amongst the tombs of the four Founders, and he would never know that he had held and looked after a seventh of his master’s soul. Only Voldemort knew this.

Until Harry Potter found his trail, and followed it to the door of the Deathly Hallows.