Chapter Seven: Captivating

"How many of you are Muggleborn in this class?" Maclay asked.

Lily watched him lean idly against his desk in front of his classroom. She uncrossed her legs and leaned forward, interested in where he was going with his lecture. She looked across the room, surveying the uplifted hands from her seat in the very back of the classroom. The students were the same ones she had been following about all day: sixth year Gryffindors and Slytherins. Dumbledore had taken his house unity project to a whole new level, pushing the Gryffindors and Slytherins together in as many classes as feasible. So far, they had had Potions, Transfiguration, and Care of Magical Creatures together. Now, so late in the afternoon, everyone's nerves were a bit frazzled; Harry and Draco had reluctantly called a truce in order to survive their classes.

Lily watched the tense class as hands went up. Hermione had her hand up proudly, along with Dean Thomas and Lavender Brown.

"Alright, hands down. How many of you are half-bloods?" Maclay asked, his face carefully blank. Harry raised his hand, along with Seamus and an arrogant-looking Slytherin girl. Maclay nodded.

"Hands down. Now, how many purebloods?" he asked. Neville and Ron, Draco and all the other male Slytherins, Parvati Patil, and the other three Slytherin girls - Pansy Parkinson, Millicent Bullstrode, and Tracey Davis - all raised a hand.

"Hands down. Now, you see that there are a handful of Muggleborns and Half-bloods, and a fair few of Purebloods in your class. Which one of you is top of your year?" he asked. A skinny, buck-toothed boy by Draco Lily thought was named Nott sneered in Hermione's direction. Hermione blushed as Ron spoke out.

"That'd be Hermione, Professor. She has been since first year," the red-head said, proudly clapping her on the back. Her blush darkened, and Harry smiled at her.

"She's brilliant," Harry said, laughter in his voice at Hermione's modesty.

"Hmm..." said Maclay, "A Muggleborn. But aren't Muggleborns supposed to be unfit to have magic? Aren't they 'dirty'? That's what my pureblooded mother would have me believe," he said candidly. He shook his head as he heard Nott muttering to Draco. He stalked across the room to halt just in front of the desk Nott and Draco shared. "Do you agree with my mother, Mr. Nott?" The sandy-haired Slytherin nodded, sneering contemptuously.

"So you would say that half-bloods, by nature, being nearly Muggleborn themselves, are similar?" Nott nodded again, emboldened by Maclay's lack of reproach. The brunette professor strolled back to his desk in silence. Lily scrutinized his facial expression; it betrayed no emotion at all.

"Lord Voldemort was born Tom Marvolo Riddle," Maclay said, his back to the class. "His father was Tom Riddle." He turned, his blue eyes sweeping across the room but managing to catch everyone's gaze. "A muggle."

The class was dead silent. The click of his bootheels on his dragon-hide boots filled the room as he walked around his desk to sit in it.

"I want two feet of parchment by our next lesson on your heritage - write about your relatives, your family tree, whatever - and what it means to you. I want to know how it affects your every-day life.

"You are dismissed."


The entire school was buzzing like a beehive. Lily soon heard that Maclay's first few classes had been just as eventful as the one she had attended with Harry. For the first time, the entirety of Hogwarts's population had the same assignment for homework, years one through seventh. Lily chewed her way though lunch without tasting a bite of it, while staring at a pensive Harry.

"I wonder what he's thinking about," she said idly. Her uncle raised an ironic eyebrow.

"Do you think I would know better than you?" he asked dryly.

"No," Lily replied distractedly. "I was just thinking out loud."

"Do that often, do you?" he asked. Lily murmured something vague at him and he took the hint- she wasn't really paying attention to anything external. They returned to their meal, each wrapped in his or her own thoughts.


Across the castle, a thick panel in the stone wall swung slowly outward to release its centuries-old captive. Coppery scales glittered in the torchlight as the captive made its way slowly out of its room, stiff on joints that hadn't been used in ages. The animal stretched its leathery wings and made its way toward its promised target.

In the Great Hall, Lily stood. With a simple gesture, Draco was lifted from his seat at the end of the Slytherin table into the air.

"Ready yourself for your birthright, Draconis Marek Malfoy, for she approaches."

Screams broke out in the Great Hall as the doors swung open and the creature stepped inside.


A/N: Revised June 22, 2005.