A/N: Hey, all! This is my first founder's era fic, and it's also going to be the FIRST generation of my main story, my baby, the series I've yet to come up with an over-arching title for. All those other times I said I was writing the first generation… YEAH, I lied. But I'm going to skip from this story to Riddle-era, because there's not enough cannon to tie it to in between. If you're familiar with my other stories, this will be familiar, if you aren't, go check them out! I've yet to post my first bit of the Riddle-era yet, so you'd go straight from this to Some Other Beginning's End, my one-shot, and follow on from there. This is a preface of sorts, setting the scene in a way. Review, please!

Well over a thousand years after her death, Helen was still at Hogwarts. The latest in the line of young women beginning with Gryffindor's daughter was in the mass of first years, waiting to be Sorted. Before it was her turn, however, the messy-haired boy and dark-skinned girl beside her in line were called:

"Potter, James!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

And later,

"Weasley, Roxanne!"

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Finally,

"Wood, McKenna!"

"RAVENCLAW!"

Helena watched the black-haired, green-eyed girl take her place at the Ravenclaw table beside a pretty young Asian girl. She waved across the Hall to the Potter boy, who looked upset that she was not with him. They were so much like their parents. Helena would never forget that night she had spoken to the pair of them, the night her mother's diadem was destroyed.

The Potter boy and Cromwell girl were looking at her. Helena disliked the idea of having to speak to Charlotte Cromwell, the picture image of her own childhood friend, Christiana Gryffindor. Not hesitating, Helena slipped through a nearby wall and glided down a corridor. She had almost reached the end of it when she heard the voice of the Potter boy.

"Hey – wait – come back!"

Knowing she ought to, Helena stopped and faced them, not at all pleased to talk to them.

"You're the Grey Lady?" Charlotte Cromwell said.

Helena nodded.

"You're the ghost of Ravenclaw Tower?" asked Potter.

"That is correct," Helena said coldly.

"Please, we need some help," he said. "We need to know anything you can tell us about the lost diadem."

She grinned in spite of herself. Every one of Christiana's descendants… every last one…

"I'm afraid that I cannot help you."

"WAIT!" the boy yelled.

"This is urgent," Charlotte Cromwell pressed, her green eyes flashing. "If that diadem's at Hogwarts, we've got to find it, fast."

"You're hardly the first students to covet the diadem. Generations of students have badgered me–"

"This isn't about trying to get better marks!" the Potter boy shouted. He did that quite a lot. That could come from the Peverell girl, or maybe Christiana's brother, Flint. That pair did little but argue. "It's about Voldemort – defeating Voldemort – or aren't you interested in that?"

Was she? Oh, yes. He had tricked her, used her, all those years ago… She supposed that was in his blood… Her reasons for wanting him gone were purely selfish and vindictive, one last stab at the line of the man who had used her first. Megan would have been proud of her reasoning; Christiana would have been appalled.

"Of course I – how dare you suggest–?"

"Well, help us, then!"

"It – it is not a question of – My mother's diadem–"

"Your mother's?"

She had said too much. The Potter brat certainly took after Jenna. Flint was too lazy to ask so many questions.

"When I lived," she admitted, "I was Helena Ravenclaw."

"You're her daughter?" gasped the Cromwell girl, probably not aware of the depth of her own lineage. "But then, you must know what happened to it!"

"While the diadem bestows wisdom," Helena stated, "I doubt that it would greatly increase your chances of defeating the wizard who calls himself Lord–"

"Haven't I just told you we're not interested in wearing it!" the Potter boy interrupted. Yes, he was just as impatient as Jenna. "There's no time to explain – but if you care about Hogwarts, if you want Voldemort finished, you've got to tell us anything you know about the diadem!"

Anything… there was a lot to tell, the story of herself, Christiana, Ernald, Jenna and Flint, Megan and Golda… what a story it was! And the diadem… and her mother… but they didn't need the whole gruesome story, just the basics…

"I stole the diadem from my mother."

"You – you did what?"

She would have to tell the story, some of the story, but she could leave out much of the blame of others in her wicked act.

"I stole the diadem," she breathed. "I sought to make myself cleverer, more important than my mother. I ran away with it.

"My mother, they say, never admitted that the diadem was gone, but pretended that she had it still. She concealed her loss, my dreadful betrayal, even from the other founders of Hogwarts."

Especially from the other founders. Rowena Ravenclaw had known perfectly well that Helena's closest friends, the daughters of the other founders, had had some hand in the wicked act.

"Then my mother fell ill – fatally ill. In spite of my perfidy, she was desperate to see me one more time. She sent a man who had long loved me, though I spurned his advances, to find me. She knew that he would not rest until he had done so.

"He tracked me to the forest where I was hiding. When I refused to return with him, he became violent. The Baron was always a hot-tempered man. Furious at my refusal, jealous of my freedom, he stabbed me."

"The Baron? You mean–?" began Potter.

"The Bloody Baron, yes," she said, moving her cloak to show them her wound. "When he saw what he had done, he was overcome with remorse. He took the weapon that had claimed my life and used it to kill himself. All these centuries later, he wears his chains as an act of penitence… as he should," she added, thinking briefly on the name the students had given Ernald. Nathan would have thought it so funny… Nathan…

"And… and the diadem?" pressed the Cromwell girl.

"It remained where I had hidden it when I heard the Baron blundering through the forest toward me. Concealed inside a hollow tree."

"A hollow tree?" repeated Potter. "What tree? Where was this?"

"A forest in Albania. A lonely place I thought was far beyond my mother's reach."

"Albania," he repeated. "You've already told someone this story, haven't you? Another student?"

Helena closed her eyes. This was the truly shameful part of her tale, and no one could be blamed but herself. She nodded.

"I had… no idea… he was flattering. He seemed to… to understand… to sympathize…"

Like Megan. He had been just like Megan. But Helena hadn't seen it at the time, although she should have.

"Well, you weren't the first person Riddle wormed things out of," Potter muttered. "He could be charming when he wanted…"

Charming… Megan… flint… Jenna… Christiana… and Nathan… oh, Nathan… what a foolish, naïve plan it had been…

McKenna Wood fielded several questions about the great Harry Potter quite easily, but when the curiosity of her classmates turned to her mother, Charlotte Cromwell Wood, Helena noted the sour, jealous look behind the young girl's eyes. Perhaps this generation of Christiana's descendants had taken after Helena instead… Ravenclaw, indeed.