New Disclaimer – This is an updated/edited version of the story. Obviously I do not own Harry Potter, nor am I making any money off it.

As an aspiring writer, I often wish I could read an author's first, second, and third drafts of their novels and pick their brains about the changes they made or how the story developed. I love a good 'How to Write a Novel' book or article, but sometimes feel that, without a full example, it's somehow lacking.

So, I decided to do it myself with this fanfiction. I will be editing each chapter of The Code, and explain what changes I made in hopes to be helpful to other burgeoning writers out there. I will now admit that the other reason I'm doing this is because it's been years since I touched this thing, and I forgot the ending. I'm rather embarrassed about it. I'm hoping that some re-reading and edits can help me remember, or come up with a new ending, so that I can finish this series.

Okay – let's take a look at chapter one.

The first and most glaring issue I have re-reading the first chapter is that it is a LOT of exposition. Also, not a lot happens, which is a natural side effect of exposition. The flashback has the most tension – with the conflict between Draco and Lucius – but overall, I'd say this chapter is rather static. I can see that I really relied on the premise to hook readers in, and just kind of hoped they'd keep reading.

Something I like about it is that I laid out a lot of clues as to where the story is heading. For example, we know from this first chapter that Bill is teaching at Hogwarts for a secret purpose. This bit of mystery will hopefully keep the reader engaged. The reader is also waiting for the 'big confrontation' between Bill and Draco, because one of the rules of story-telling is that if a character has a secret, then it MUST be revealed to the other characters at some point in the novel. Otherwise the reader feels cheated. In this case, the reader is (rightfully) assuming that Bill will discover Draco is a genius.

There are other clues to character development as well, a big one being that Draco needs to decide if he's joining the Dark Lord at the end of the year. The reader expects to see Bill play a role in that. A smaller character beat was hinted at when Draco flinched at the mention of Narcissa. I find that setting up these clues to where the story is going helps keep a reader engaged, but it also helps me as the writer. It gives me several different plot points to work towards, not just the main conflict.

So – how am I making this chapter stronger?

The most important edit, I think, is that I started with the action – which for this chapter is the tension between Draco and Lucius. Instead of burying it in a flashback, I opened with it, which I think gives the story more immediacy.

I also took out some (cough – A LOT) of the unnecessary descriptions and explanations. I really over-explained in this chapter, which is a common mistake for a first draft. I also took out the additional character information of Draco being somewhat ADHD. This is going to be something that's more interesting if I show it, instead of telling it. Also, as this wasn't a huge part of Draco's character, it doesn't need to make an appearance here. I also tried to expand more into Bill's point of view. I admit, I wasn't quite sure how to use Bill at first, so he became more of a foil to Draco instead of an actual character. I definitely want to flesh him out more in these early chapters to make him just as interesting as Draco.

So, I hope that you enjoy the revised chapter. Thanks!

(Also, I hope to update every 1-2 weeks.)

Chapter 1: The Dissenter's Code

Two weeks.

It had been two weeks since school let out and Draco was having the best summer of his sixteen years. Both of his parents were gone. Lucius was awaiting sentencing for his role in the battle at the Ministry. He was currently held in Azkaban under strict 'no contact' orders. Narcissa was off in Spain "visiting relatives", which was code for screwing another man.

It was a poorly kept secret that Narcissa was unfaithful. Draco had found out when he was seven. His mother had invited a man over while Lucius was away. Draco had wandered in on them in the dining room. He'd been searching for a snack and found her and 'Cousin Richard' something he'd never seen before on the long table in the family dining room. He'd immediately run away, hastened by the candelabra she'd thrown at his head. He'd found some helpful books about biology and sexuality in the library and learned then what marital infidelity was. The following morning he'd set the table on fire so he wouldn't have to eat on in.

Two weeks without either parent meant Draco had free range of the manor. He walked around the house with no shoes on, sometimes sliding on the polished floors in his sock feet. He didn't bother with formal robes at dinner nor did he eat at the dining table at all. He took his meals in the library while he read everything from philosophy to history to calculus. He took the thestrals out for a ride, flying far too fast and far beyond the borders he was usually allowed. He stayed up far too late and slept in until noon.

Draco knew he should be upset his father was in prison, but mostly he felt relief. Lucius was smart. Perhaps not as smart as Draco, but he was cunning and manipulative and was always working from some secret agenda that Draco could never figure out. It kept him in a constant state of anxiety, question and analyzing every word he said. But even worse than the anxiety was the ridiculous, unfounded warmth in his chest every time Lucius said something kind, or looked at him with some sort of fondness in his eyes. It didn't matter that Lucius was a murderer and a schemer. That child inside him would always crave his father's affection. Sometimes it was just a look. Sometimes it was a nod. Sometimes it was a hand on his shoulder. It was the closest to 'I love you' Draco ever got.

So Draco enjoyed the reprieve. He was rather used to being alone. Lucius was typically in-and-out on business, and with the return of the Dark Lord, he had even more tasks to attend to. And Draco was more used to Narcissa's absence than her company. Even when she was at home, she was usually drunk or high on pleasure potions.

As an only child with busy parents, Draco was adept at entertaining himself. It was actually rather easy because he had an insatiable curiosity about the world and a mind that retained every tidbit of information he read. The Muggles had a term for it. Eidetic memory, or colloquially, a photographic memory. Paired with his inquisitive nature, Draco could easily be called a genius. And raised by parents as affluent and politically adept at his parents, Draco had learned to put his genius into good use – namely, keeping his intellect a secret. From a very early age, Draco had learned that his parents would use him as a tool to their ends without giving his wellbeing a second thought. So with them out of the house, Draco no longer had t look over his shoulder as he delved into books about conceptual potions or quantum physics, or as he concocted his own experiments in the dungeons. It was the closest to freedom he'd ever experienced.

At the moment, he'd finished all his reading and was waiting for the next shipment of books he'd ordered, from the Wizarding and Muggle libraries. He'd retired to the music room and was occupying his time playing one of his favorite piano concertos. Narcissa had hired him a piano tutor when he was five. She had liked showing him off to her friends. When he performed for an audience, Draco kept to the music as it was written. His fingers skillfully tripped up and down the keys, playing complicated runs with absolutely no variation. When he was alone, however, he varied the tempo and volume, sometimes adding in his own syncopated rhythms, inserting a passion he did not reveal to listeners.

The piece he was playing now, the Phoenix Concerto, had ample opportunity for improvisation and interpretation. He crashed his fingers down to elicit the fury of the flames that sprang up, devouring and consuming the bird, before transforming into a slow, gentle fall of ash. But then, as the dirge swelled and became overwhelming, a familiar melody returned – the melody of life, the phoenix being reborn.

Draco ended the piece with a wistful, bluesy glissando. Slow, mocking applause sounded from the doorway.

Draco whipped around. Lucius was standing just inside the doorframe, looking immaculate and foreboding, blood red robes draping gracefully to the floor. His cane was tucked under one arm.

"You have never played like that before," Lucius said in a slight drawl. He raised an eyebrow in a lofty sort of humor.

Draco felt a tinge of fear, though he could not explain why. "I didn't know you were released, Father." He tried to keep a neutral expression on his face. He could feel the tension rising in his chest, threatening to strangle him like an exotic snake. He doubted Lucius was here for a social visit – especially as he was supposed to be in Azkaban. So what was he here for? What did he want?

"You didn't know on purpose," said Lucius. "I wasn't released."

Draco immediately understood; the Dark Lord had helped him escape. The snake around his chest constricted.

"No doubt you will read about it in the Daily Prophet tomorrow night. That's when the breakout will be discovered." Lucius flicked a bit of dust from his sleeve that Draco knew wasn't really there "Well, come here. Let me have a look at you. I haven't seen you since last summer."

Draco got to his feet in a gracefulness he inherited from both his father and mother. He crossed the floor, feeling Lucius' gaze sweep over him. He suddenly wished he'd tucked his shirt in and put shoes on. He didn't like feeling so disheveled, not when Lucius, just escaped from prison, looked like he could be featured on the cover of Magical Business Weekly. He stopped in front of his father. He'd grown over the past year, and was starting to catch up with Lucius. But Lucius also wore platforms in his boots, and it made Draco feel absurdly small.

He forced himself to hold still as Lucius walked around him, measuring him to some unknown standard. Lucius stopped in front of him, reached out to grasp his chin, and tipped his face up.

"You've grown," said Lucius softly. Draco detected a bit of sorrow in his eyes.

"Yes, Father. It has been a year."

Lucius' finger traced his jaw in a manner that almost showed fondness. "I missed your birthday. Was your mother here for it at least?"

"She's visiting relatives," said Draco.

"Of course she is." Lucius' voice dripped with annoyance. "Though it was probably a good thing she was not present for the occasion. Merlin knows what she would have done to you."

Draco flinched; Lucius' eyes narrowed. His father disliked any display of fear, but he didn't comment on it. Instead he changed the subject.

"Did you get yourself a gift?"

"I went to Diagon Alley and bought myself a new broom."

"I told you not to go there alone."

"I was not to go without a chaperone until I was sixteen. I was sixteen."

"Yes, but that was assuming that there was someone at the house who knew that you were leaving," Lucius said sharply. "There are many people out there who prey on young wizards walking about alone."

"All of those people are Dark Wizards who know that if they touch me, you will hunt them down and torture them to death," Draco said, feeling like a normal teenager with an overprotective father for once, and not a teenager with Death Eaters for parental figures. "And I am old enough to take care of myself."

Lucius' tense posture relaxed a millimeter, which was his equivalent of sighing. "I suppose you are then. Well, run along and do your schoolwork. I have duties to attend in my office."

Draco inclined his head to his father and went to his own study in his wing of the manor. He had already finished his homework, but Lucius was to be obeyed, if only in show. He grabbed an old Muggle textbook on calculus and lost himself in the equations.

Lucius was not at dinner that night, which wasn't surprising. But Lucius did meet him at breakfast, dressed in riding attire, the same as Draco.

"I thought I'd join you."

Draco figured that Lucius had checked up with the house elves on his daily schedule but for the life of him couldn't figure out why. The tension that he had managed to shake off last night came back.

After the morning meal they went out to the thestral stables on the property, Draco choosing Eagan, a fiery stallion, and Lucius choosing the older and better-mannered Ammon.

"How was the year?" asked Lucius, once they were airborne.

"The usual," said Draco.

"Your grades?"

"Mostly E's." They were all E's actually. It was an easy way for Draco to hide his intellect at school. Straight E students never got additional attention at school – no praise or concern. Draco had been getting straight E's since his first year, not that anyone would notice.

"I won't be here for the rest of the summer," said Lucius. "Our lord needs work done abroad."

"I didn't know he had interests overseas."

"It is a new development. I'd like you to go to France for the rest of the summer as I will be unavailable and your mother is Merlin knows where."

"Why France?"

"I'll be there, for the most part. You can meet some of my associates."

Draco figured he meant Death Eater associates. He'd met most of Lucius' business partners already.

Lucius turned to him. "He will want to meet you."

Draco felt his blood run cold. He knew Lucius meant Voldemort. "Is that so?"

"He has heard about you and is impressed. He wishes you to join his ranks."

Draco crushed the panic that was rising in his chest and turned to the comfort of cold logic. "When?" He kept his voice casual, flat.

"The night school lets out," said Lucius.

"A good night," said Draco, neither accepting nor declining the position.

"I will let him know you look forward to it," Lucius said. He glanced at the sky and reined his thestral in. "I must go and have the house-elves pack. No doubt the Aurors will be combing the manor by nightfall looking for me. Call the attorney when they arrive."

"I will. Safe travels, Father."

Lucius nodded and kicked Ammon into a gradual dive. Draco watched him head back towards the manor, and once he was out of sight, he let Eagan have his head. The thestral launched into a steep dive, and then twisted into a barrel roll. Lucius didn't approve of such actions, believing that anything so reckless was in violation of the Malfoy Code, rule fifteen, but Draco didn't care right then. Lucius was forcing him to become a murderer and a servant, and he believed that broke half a dozen of the rules. He could refuse, of course, but that would mean being disinherited, and very possibly killed. And he had nowhere to go – no family or friends outside of the Dark Lord's sphere of influence. There was always Dumbledore's group, but he doubted they'd welcome him with open arms.

Draco urged Eagan on, wanting the rush of adrenaline to distract from the fact that, for the first time in his life, he was contemplating betraying his father.

OoOoO

Draco had hoped to find some semblance of direction over the summer, but as he sat on the Hogwarts Express, the start of another school year stretching before him, he had to admit that he'd failed. He heaved a sigh and slumped back in the seat. It was hardly dignified behavior, but he was alone in the compartment. No one else had seen it.

He turned to the window and watched the students bid farewell to their parents. Some hugged. Some kissed. Some cried and some smiled. Some dodged such displays of affection entirely. Draco had a theory about human behavior that took into account such varied displays of emotions. He theorized that everyone had an internal code, individual and unique to themselves. Some people were aware of their code, while others only stored it in their subconscious. Some codes had rules, while others had values. Some had addendums and provisos; others only vague concepts. The codes differed, but everyone had one. Otherwise, how would they know how to act?

Draco's gaze latched onto a black-haired boy – currently in conversation with two other students, a red-head and a brunette. The Great Harry Potter. The Boy-Who-Lived. A perfect example for Draco's theory. Everything Harry did was dictated by his Gryffindor values, and his desire to be superior to the Slytherins, or Lord Voldemort. Granted this was all in his subconscious, but the fact was if Potter saw someone getting bullied, he would stop it because that's what heroes did, and that's what was in his code.

Draco's gaze slid over to Theodore Nott, currently shoving his way through the throng of students trying to board. Theodore's personal code was a replica of Lord Voldemort's because that was who he admired. If Theodore saw someone getting bullied, he would join in.

Draco turned away from the window. In some ways he envied Potter and Nott. They had easily fallen into their respective roles and adopted their codes accordingly. Draco was finding it more difficult. For as long as he could remember his own guiding light had been the Malfoy Family Code. Draco doubted that such a thing really existed, but his father used to quote rules from it to him, and Draco, being an obedient and awe-struck son, had copied down the rules onto parchment. He had sixty-four of the damned rules written in the journal currently sitting on his lap.

The door opened. Crabbe peaked through. "Sure we can't sit with you?"

"Go!" Draco snapped.

Crabbe hurriedly shut the door, leaving Draco alone again. He sighed and flopped over on the seat bench, breaking rule number 23 of the Malfoy code. He'd been having trouble maintaining the code lately, mostly because rule number one was 'obey your father'.

If only Lucius had stayed in Azakaban…

But there was no point in idle wishing.

The train whistle sounded. Outside, Draco could hear parents shouting goodbyes to their children. He sat up to watch the horde of mothers and fathers blinking back tears as they waved farewell at their sniveling first years. The train started with a jerk. Some of the parents began walking down the length of the platform, keeping their children in sight for as long as possible. Draco felt something like envy pierce his heart.

He looked down at the journal in his hand, opened it, and in a fit of rage, he tore out the pages that held the Malfoy Code. One quick incendio later, and only a pile of ash remained. His father's code had failed him; he would no longer follow it.

Logic, though, dictated that he replace the code with another. Well, he was a genius. He'd just make his own. He pulled out a quill and ink and, in a script perfected by countless tutors, wrote out on the top of the page 'The Dissenter's Code'.

Now he just needed rules.

Draco sighed and dropped back onto the bench again, but he felt no guilt this time. He was following his own rules this time, quite literally, so he could sigh and flop about and be as dramatic as he pleased.

No rules came to mind at that moment, so he put the journal aside and pulled out two books, Volsky's The Time-Turners Explained and a Muggle book The Physics of Time Travel; he wanted to mark the differences.

OoOoO

Bill Weasley sat in a compartment on the Hogwarts Express and felt like a first year all over again. He had the same clenching in his stomach as he had at the age of eleven, leaving home for the first time. If anyone asked, he was going to say he was just nervous about his first year of teaching. The truth was far more dangerous.

He glanced at the kids around him. Ron sat beside him; Harry and Hermione shared the opposite bench. Bill had slowly gotten to know both of them over the summer. He'd been a regular visitor at 12 Grimmauld Place, where Harry and Hermione had spent their summer months. Harry had been quiet. He was struggling to recover from the loss of Sirius. Ron and Hermione had been spending a lot of time with him.

The door slid open, revealing Ginny and a girl Bill knew from description – Luna Lovegood.

"Thought we'd drop in and say hi," Ginny said, immediately shoving Ron over to claim a spot on the bench.

Luna hovered more awkwardly in the doorway and turned a slightly vacant gaze to Bill. "You're a little old to be a student."

"He's teaching Ancient Runes," Ginny explained.

"Ohh." Luna nodded in understanding, her Christmas tree earrings bouncing up and down with the motion.

"Hermione, shouldn't you and Ron be in the Prefect's compartment?" asked Ginny.

"The Head Boy and Girl decided that we should share a compartment this year. I don't think they want any problems between us and the Slytherins."

"Smart of them," said Ginny. She turned her smile to Bill, and Bill couldn't help but smile back. As the oldest of the seven, Bill had done his fair share of babysitting and quasi-parenting. He'd been annoyed by the responsibility at first, but he and Ginny had always shared a special bond.

"Nervous?" she asked.

"A little," he admitted.

"You shouldn't be," said Hermione, looking up from her book. "It's not like you can be worse than Umbridge."

The compartment shared a laugh that was a little too grim to be truly humorous.

"I've heard plenty of horror stories," Bill said. "But I think it's just normal for first time teachers. I'm still trying to figure out the curriculum."

"How many classes do you have?" Luna asked.

"I've got OWL level Ancient Runes and also an introductory course, and then of course the NEWT classes."

"I'm in his class," Hermione told the others, although Bill knew they'd already heard. Hermione was someone who took pride in her accomplishments, much like his brother Percy, although she was a little more tactful about boasting. She looked at Bill. "Did you get the class list yet?"

Bill rummaged around in his bag for the list that'd been finalized late last week. For one terrible moment, he couldn't find it and thought he'd left it behind – and wouldn't that just be a great start to his first year of teaching? – but then he saw the familiar Hogwarts stationary and pulled out his official class list.

Ron immediately grabbed it from his hand. "Mostly Ravenclaws – and some of them are in fifth year! That's ridiculous. Some Hufflepuffs. And – Malfoy?" The last came out in a yelp.

"What?" Hermione demanded. "He wasn't in Ancient Runes last year. How can he be in a NEWT level course?"

"Apparently he took a summer class," said Bill with a grimace. He wasn't pleased with the last minute addition himself. He'd frequently heard horror stories about the Malfoy family – from his father and his grandparents. The animosity between the two families was deep and long-standing. But Bill was a professor, and this Malfoy was a student. It wouldn't be too horrible, would it?

Silence filled the compartment. Bill looked up to see the teenagers watching him with wells of pity in their eyes.

"Is he that bad?" he asked.

"We're sorry," Ginny said. She patted him on the knee. "Well, we're off to watch the chocolate frog race between the fifth years." She and Luna left the compartment.

Bill looked to the others. "Well?"

Ron and Hermione jumped into a cascade of terrible stories about one Draco Malfoy, from Buckbeak to fake dementors. Harry joined in, his eyes regaining a little bit of spark as he talked about his 'nemesis'. Bill found a new anxiety gripping his chest. The kid sounded like a miniature Lord Voldemort. But gradually the topic shifted to the last Quidditch World Cup and Bill found himself relaxing back into the seat. He pulled out his lessons plans to review. He hadn't gotten as much done as he'd wanted. He'd been planning on being far more productive over the summer, but had been seduced into complacency with the summer months.

Bill's favorite subject in school had been Ancient Runes. Runes were the ancient written language of magic – dating as far back as Muggle written language. Although wizards eventually adopted the Muggle forms of writing – the Roman alphabet, cuneiform, hieroglyphics, hanzi – they continued to use runes as a secret language to communicate and to ward and guard areas of import. The more turbulent the historical period, the more elaborate the runic system became. Messages were often coded in the runes as an additional precaution against spies. Unfortunately, many of those codes were lost to time, and remained unsolved to this day.

"Bill," said Hermione, calling his attention back to the present. "Why did you get into curse breaking if you like Ancient Runes so much?"

Bill put his papers down. "There's not a lot of work for translators. General consensus says that we know more about magic nowadays than we did thousands of years ago. Most people don't see the merit of translating the hundreds of codes out there, since they think the codes don't contain any useful information. When I enter pyramids or crypts, and break those wards, most of them are booby-trapped with ancient codes, so it's the closest I get to translating. However, now that's Voldemort back, people are beginning to realize that perhaps Old Magic might really be important, after all, that's how we think Voldemort got back into power."

"Then why aren't you at a job translating?" asked Hermione.

Bill hesitated. "Let's just say that Dumbledore wanted me here."

He immediately wished he hadn't said anything because Harry looked alarmed and Ron immediately started hounding him for information – was there a threat at Hogwarts? Was another Umbridge coming back? Hermione said nothing, but the thoughtful look in her eyes made him think he was her next puzzle to solve.

Bill held up his hand to silence his youngest brother. "When you join the Order, you can know. Until then, just be on your guard. There's a new professor for Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Dumbledore didn't get a say in his hiring. It seems like the Ministry wants to limit his power, so they're doing everything they can to keep their eyes on him."

"So you're coming for protection," Hermione said.

"Something like that," said Bill, even though it was far from his true purpose. In fact, Bill's purpose at Hogwarts was so secret, that only Dumbledore, Minerva, and Severus knew what his mission was.

Bill turned back to his lesson plans, but he couldn't ignore the knot in his stomach. Bill had cracked hundreds of codes in his career as a curse-breaker. He'd unlocked ancient mysteries and blocked centuries old curses.

But he'd never been this scared.

OoOoO

Okay - so that's updated. Still could be spelling/grammar errors because... well, I make a lot of those, lol.