Alright, next part is here.

Now first I must apologize, I didn't give my brother any credit for the last chapter, he got mad at me.  HE'S HELPING ME, EVEN IF I DON'T SAY HE IS.  Helped a few things in this chapter too.

Now, you may notice the repetition of blades, symbolizing the author's hatred for society in general and people with blades in specific. . . never mind me, I hate analyzing literature.  There are a lot of blades because that helps the story.  Besides, they're simple, they're easy, they're fun to run around with. . . .

Don't own em, never will, but one day I'll have my own set of famous people to play with, and then everyone else will try to play with them without my permission.  But as long as JKR and JRRTolkien let me play with theirs, I won't complain when people play with mine.

Oh, and italics are the little voice in Blaise's head.  It happens to the best of us sometimes.

The Founders

            Blaise woke up screaming.  He couldn't remember where he was, the room he was in was completely unfamiliar to him.  A hand clamped over his mouth, an arm wrapped around his waist, pinning his flailing arms to his sides.  Blaise struggled against his captor, nipping and biting at the hand on his mouth.  He heard movement, then the lights flicked on.   Blinking in the bright light, Blaise stopped struggling.  He was in Harry's room, Draco was holding him tightly.  Already a black eye was starting to show on the other boy's pale face.  Harry stood by the door, one hand on the light switch.  Ron was sitting up in his bed, looking panicked.

            "Is everyone alright?" Harry was the first to speak.  "Draco?  What happened to your face?"

            Draco released Blaise and touched his eye gingerly.  "Blaise hit me in his sleep, nothing serious, it'll be fine."

            "Blaise?" Harry asked.  "What happened?"

            Blaise couldn't meet Harry's eyes.  He wanted to leap out of his bed, to hug Harry tight and cry "You're alive, you're alive!" over and over, for no apparent reason.  He wanted to feel Harry pull him into a one-armed hug, ruffling his hair and saying he understood perfectly what was going on, and that everything would work out.  He wanted Harry to sit him down and explain these visions he'd been having, and he wanted Harry to explain why he wanted Harry to explain everything.  Instead he just grit his teeth and mumbled, "Just a bad dream, nothing to worry about."

            Harry frowned.  Something in Blaise's voice told him that wasn't all that was bothering him.  "Blaise?"  There was that feeling again, that cold hand that squeezed his heart, that knowledge that somehow, somewhere, Blaise was going to kill someone he loved.  The cold hand was gone, instantly replaced with fatherly concern.  Wait.  Fatherly concern?  Where did that come from?  He was only fifteen!  What was it with these weird feelings?

            Blaise tensed.  He wanted to cry out that it wasn't just a bad dream, that it was all real, that it was going to happen again, but he didn't.  Divination was all a load of rubbish anyway.  This wasn't a vision, just a dream.  But you know it's not.  That voice.  Blaise covered his ears, trying to block out that voice.  He hated it, he did.  It was the voice of the wizard who kept killing him in his dream.  It was the voice of Voldemort, who he'd only heard once.  It was the voice of Lucius Malfoy, when he overheard the man talking about his evil plans.  He hated it.  You can't hide from me, Slytherin brat.  "Stop it," he whispered.  "Just go away."

            "Blaise?"  This time it was Draco, Draco looking at him funny, Draco reaching for him . . .

            "Stop it!" Blaise screamed, slapping at Draco's hand.  "Leave me alone!  I just want to be alone!"  Blaise ran from the room without a backwards glance.

            Ron, Draco, and Harry all moved to chase after him.  No sooner had Ron stood up then a harsh summer wind blew in through the open window.  As the three watched, the ancient sword Remus had found somewhere and hung on the wall near Harry's bed slipped loose and fell forward.

            The blade sliced into the pillow where Ron's head had been moments earlier.  Harry shuddered, feeling that cold hand again.  Suddenly, Sirius, Remus, and James all burst through the door, wands raised.

            "What's wrong, Dad?" Harry asked.  Lily floated through them and peered around the room.

            "Whoever it was, they're gone now . . . Oh!  Jamie, look at the bed!  The sword!  That's where the fresh trace magic is!"

            Trace magic.  Harry's eyes widened.  His mum had mentioned being able to see trace magic when he first met her as a ghost.  Trace magic was left behind when a spell was cast, kind of like a fingerprint.  Unfortunately, trace magic only gave a slight hint at the type of spell used, not who used it.  Ghosts were also the only beings who could see trace magic naturally, although professional wizards were working on a spell to reveal trace magic.  If fresh trace magic was on the sword, then it didn't fall in the wind naturally.  Someone had tried to kill Ron or him.

            "A levitation spell, by the looks of it," Lily said, running her fingers through the hilt.  "What happened here, boys?  Is anyone hurt?"

            "No one, Mrs. Potter," Ron said.  "We were lucky; I had just gotten up when the sword fell.  After Blaise ran out, a wind blew in and knocked the sword.  If I hadn't gotten up to chase after Blaise, I would have been killed."  His eyes were wide as he stared at the sword.  Harry shifted nervously, feeling that cold hand squeeze a bit harder.

            A scream came from downstairs, then the sound of glass shattering.

            Blaise ran into the kitchen, trying to escape the voice.  He ran into the window, resting his forehead against the cool glass and panting.  Gryffindor's dead now the evil voice in his head cackled.  Blaise's eyes widened "Oh no!" he whispered.  "That can only mean. . ."  Oh yes, the voice was definitely enjoying this too much.  You're next.

            In the window, Blaise saw movement.  Someone was behind him.  He turned around and saw Fudge brandishing a large chef's knife and grinning evilly.  As Fudge flung it at him and vanished, Blaise screamed.

            Noko and Ginny, being the closest, were the first ones in the kitchen.  "Oh . . ." was all they could say, staring at the scene before them.  Blaise stood, tense and rigid, back to what used to be a large kitchen window.  His eyes were shut tightly and on his face was an expression of fear.  Other then a few minor cuts, he seemed alright.  The same couldn't be said for the window.  Glass littered the floor and the ground outside.  A kitchen knife was embedded in a tree right outside the window, just a hair's width to the right of Blaise's head.

            Looking at Blaise more closely, Ginny noticed his right ear was cut and bleeding.  She was about to step forward, but James stopped her.  "Be careful, there's glass everywhere.  We don't want you getting hurt."

            As Remus and Mrs. Weasley cleaned up the glass with a few simple spells, Blaise relaxed a fraction.  "Am I dead?" he whispered.

            "No," was Draco's shaky reply.  "But something tells me this was no accident, just like the sword."

            Blaise opened his eyes, looking at them all.  "If I'm not dead," he began slowly, "then neither is Gryffindor. . ."

            Harry's eyes widened as he felt the cold hand loosen.  Gryffindor.  Memories began to rush back to him, slowly at first, then faster and faster.  "Jamie!" he heard Lily cry as his eyes rolled up and he collapsed.

Fun, ne?

~Crawler