Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor profit from it.

Okay – let's tear apart this chapter. It suffered from my biggest complaint about the first chapter, which is that it didn't contain any action. In fact, I sort of did the whole flashback thing again. Originally this chapter took place over breakfast on the first day of classes, not at the welcoming feast, so Draco was just thinking back to the announcement Dumbledore made. Which does not make for good story-telling. So I re-set this chapter at the welcome feast so that the impact of the Debate Class could actually be felt.

I have two big changes to canon in this chapter. One, I introduced an original character – Claire Jameson, student teacher, and two, I introduced a new class. Debate Class. Obviously, if this were my own work, I would have a little more freedom in adding characters and classes. But these additions are clunky. They don't fit the already established framework of what we know of Hogwarts. In the case of Claire, it's clunky because Hogwarts has never had student teachers before. A quick fix is to make her a full professor. I decided to have her replace Professor Septima Vector because I don't think I use her at all in my story, which makes it an easy switch.

This gave me some room to play with. Why did Vector leave? Was it retirement or illness? And then I realized it gave me a unique opportunity to make the Debate Class introduction a little less jarring.

The Debate Class is something I added in because it always struck me as odd that none of the political unrest being felt in the Wizarding World wasn't talked about at Hogwarts. It didn't fit with what I knew of school. I'm American, live in New York (the state, not the city), and I was in 9th grade when September 11th happened. Let me tell you, the rest of my high school years was preoccupied with debating politics. In history and government, we had full class debates of whether we should go to war or not. We were all too young to really know what we were arguing for or against. Certainly my own arguments then were just repeats of what my parents said. But because that was such a formative part of my school years, that really bled into this work. However, my own school experience is an 'out of story' reason to have the debate class. There's no 'in-story' reason, which is why I think it feels clumsy.

So what would make Hogwarts directly debate politics? (Seriously, was Cedric's death not enough?) Well, what if one of their own professors was injured in a Death Eater attack? By having Vector be a victim of Death Eaters, now there is an 'in-story' reason for the debate class. It's still a little clumsy, I think, but it certainly helps.

Anyways, here is the updated chapter.

OoOoO

Chapter 2

Rule #1: Make your own decisions.

"I believe it's time to address another change to our faculty," Dumbledore said. "I've already introduced Professor Weasley, who is taking over Ancient Runes from Professor Babbling. We wish her happiness in her retirement. And Professor Stevick has bravely dared to take on Defense Against the Dark Arts. We promise Professor Stevick that, despite assumptions, the position is not curse. We checked."

Dumbledore paused to let the students laugh. It wasn't a large round of laughter. Draco could tell that most of the students were anxiously waiting for dinner, and didn't care much about the new faculty.

Draco was anxiously waiting for the whole Welcoming Ceremony to be over. He wondered if he shouldn't just fake an illness and leave the hall. He'd always found the Sorting Ceremony and Welcome Feast to be a terrible bore. Other students enjoyed it. They liked watching the first years sweat as the Sorting Hat was placed on their heads and cheering for their house. They liked the pomp and ceremony to the start of a new school year. They liked catching up with their all their friends. They especially liked the food that was prepared – among the best in England.

Draco hated the first years. And he was bored with the celebration. And he didn't really have friends to catch up with. And he was used to eating at the best restaurants in Europe – and, if he were being honest, he enjoyed eating more when he had a good book in hand. Something to focus his brain on. Something to mentally chew on. Something to distract from the awkwardness of family dinners because Narcissa was a cheating drug addict and Lucius cared too much about appearances to get a divorce.

Draco eyed the side door. He wouldn't even have to fake an illness to leave. At this point in his school career, he could pretty much do what he wanted without teacher interference. They were all afraid of him.

"I am very saddened to announce that Professor Vector will not be returning to teach Arithmancy this year," Dumbledore said.

Draco turned his gaze to the Head Table. He'd noticed that Professor Vector wasn't there, and that there was a new woman seated in her place. She was much younger than Vector had been, perhaps in her mid-twenties. She had blonde hair and a pretty face. She'd caught the attention of a lot of the older male students, and some of the female students as well.

"Professor Vector was injured in an assault on her home," Dumbledore said.

There were several gasps throughout the hall, and now the students were paying attention. Draco felt his chest tighten. He had a feeling he knew what Dumbledore would say next, even though he hadn't heard of the attack.

"She and her family were attacked by Death Eaters," Dumbledore continued.

The gasps turned from shock to anger. Draco kept his face blank as several heads turned in his direction. There were other students with Death Eater parents, but none were as well-known as Lucius Malfoy. His escape from Azkaban had been in the news the entire summer. Draco ignored the looks, some glares, some smiles. His mind spun. He hadn't heard anything about an attack on a Hogwarts Professor. It was a risky move for the Dark Lord. Vector was Muggleborn, yes, but her position offered her some connections and would create outrage in the public.

Why, then, had she been attacked? Was it a personal vendetta disguised as a Death Eater assault? Or did the Dark Lord want her removed from the school?

"We wish our friend the best in her recovery, and we welcome Professor Claire Jameson who will take her place. Professor Jameson studied under Professor Vector right here in Hogwarts and went on to work at Gringotts after her graduation. She is well-qualified to teach, and I know her to have a sharp mind and a good heart."

Dumbledore smiled at the professor. She ducked her head in a nod, her eyes large with all of the attention.

Draco frowned. If Dumbledore knew her, it wasn't likely she was a Death Eater plant. But why else would Professor Vector be attacked, if not to remove her from her position? He considered writing a letter to ask Lucius, but his father rarely provided that sort of sensitive information.

Dumbledore turned back to the hall and paused. His face took on a strange expression, one that said he was going to be particularly obnoxious. He cleared his throat. "There is no denying that we are entering a dark period of our history, one in which bigotry and hate have been allowed to fester and grow in society. As such, I am pleased to announce that we are adding a new class to the curriculum. All sixth years and seventh years will be required to take a Debate Class which will be held Wednesdays after dinner. For far too long, our school curriculum has neglected to address the prejudice that has been long standing against wizards and witches of Muggle birth. It's time that we as teachers help our students explore the differences of opinion expressed in the modern-day wizarding world in a safe and productive environment where each student can come to his or her own conclusions without the interference of friendly or familial prejudices'."

There was a beat of silence. Draco stared at the Headmaster in horror. A debate class?

Dumbledore smiled benignly at the students, and then his eyes slid over to Draco. His lips curled up further, as if he was actually pleased with himself for such a horrible idea.

Draco let out a slow, measured breath. The silence in the Great Hall reached a deafening crescendo and then –

Chaos.

The Gryffindor table was the first to regain use of their vocal chords, and they burst into cheers. His house was next, reacting in anger and indignation. Draco held perfectly still as his classmates erupted into noise and motion. Swearing. Shouting. Fists were slammed onto the table. Other students jumped to their feet.

The Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw tables were last to react. They had the most mixed response. Some students froze in terror, their own existential angst paralyzing them. No doubt they had families who were split in the debate. Those who had stronger Pureblood ties reacted in anger – swearing, cursing, scoffing. Those who were of Halfblood families, or were Muggle sympathizers, joined the Gryffindors in cheering.

That was not to say every Gryffindor was in approval. Draco could see those students of old Pureblood stock keeping silent, not sure how they felt. And not every Slytherin was against it. Beside him, Blaise Zabini began cheering, in full support of the measures.

Draco wasn't against debating politics, but he didn't care to argue politics with his classmates. He'd heard the political debate most students his age engaged in. They regurgitated the lines of their parents. They repeated propaganda. They used straw-man arguments and circular logic. They resorted to anecdotal evidence or story-telling to prove their erroneous points of view. They refused to admit when they'd been bested. It was ugly, painful, and pointless.

Draco tried to ignore the chaos around him. He thought about time travel. He thought about potions. He thought about the historical ramifications of the Ancient Magical Wars in Egypt and his fingers tapped out a portion of the Phoenix Concerto on the table, an attempt to channel the anxious energy that swept through him.

Dumbledore let the turbulence go for far too long. Draco watched as the arguments between students grew, some shouting, some swearing. A few of the younger students, the sniveling first years, eyes too big and scared, began crying. Draco looked to the dozen transfer students that had switched to Hogwarts. They appeared to be just as frightened as the first years. Draco felt a distant sort of pity for them. Apparently there were still parents in England who idolized Albus Dumbledore, and thought him to a be beacon of safety and protection. They'd transferred their children in, thinking it'd be safer. Draco scanned the hall and counted up the missing faces. There were two dozen students who had been transferred out of Hogwarts. No doubt those parents had become wise to the mortal peril their children were in by attending school with Harry Potter. At least one life-threatening event a year.

Dumbledore finally flicked his wand and a burst of lightning flashed throughout the hall, momentarily pausing the arguments.

"Here's to a very successful year," he said and raised his goblet. At his toast, the tables began to magically fill with food – roasted meats, savory vegetables, buttery potatoes, and warm, fresh-baked breads.

The distraction worked. The shouting calmed into conversation and then faded into murmurs as the students dove into the feast.

Draco felt his stomach twist at the smell of the food. The anxiety of debate class mixed with the heavy scent of dinner only served to make him nauseous. Draco would be forced to play a part, would be forced to defend a point of view he was begin to question. He hated the thought of being nothing more than a pawn in his life.

He poured himself a glass of pumpkin juice, easy to drink and easy on the stomach. Blaise passed him a platter of lamb – assuming his empty was plate was because the other students were hogging the dishes. For appearances sake, he gave himself a small portion of lamb. He filled the rest of his plate with soft vegetables and bread – simple enough to digest, even with his gut churning the way it was.

Dumbledore's words played over in his head. 'It's time that we as teachers help our students explore the differences of opinion expressed in the modern day wizarding world in a safe and productive environment where each student can come to his or her own conclusions without the interference of friendly or familial prejudices.'

"What are you thinking?" asked Blaise Zabini next to him.

Draco recited the little snippet of speech bounding around in his head. It was only when he took a swig of pumpkin juice that he realized Blaise was staring at him.

"You remembered Dumbledore's speech?"

"Paraphrasing," Draco lied with a shrug. He could have recited the entire speech. "Though it's pretty close. He definitely used the 'familial prejudices' line. I remember because he looked straight at me when he said it. I swear, the old man thinks I'm already like my old man."

Ah, the joys of redirection. Blaise immediately looked sympathetic; he was, after all, from a neutral family. His parents didn't care which side he chose. Draco wished he could say the same about his family.

He pulled out his course schedule, eager to distract himself. It was all in order. NEWT Potions, NEWT Transfigurations, Advanced Arithmancy, NEWT Ancient Runes, Herbology for Potion-Making, and NEWT Defense Against the Dark Arts. Yes, it was all in order. He took a few moments to mentally plan out his grades. It wasn't easy to get straight E's and make it look natural. He plotted out which days to get Acceptables on his papers and tests (usually around Quidditch games because it was expected he wouldn't be studying that much) and what days to get Outstandings to bolster the grade (in the beginning of the week, when the students had the weekend to study).

Down the table, a shout rang out. "My mum's a Muggleborn, you bastard."

Draco glanced over. Two third years were getting into a fight. He could see Nott and Goyle egging them on. Snape quickly stepped from the head table, ready to intercept. He wasn't quite fast enough. A fist was thrown; a curse was cast. A pitcher of pumpkin juice toppled over – the orange liquid splattering down the table. Draco yanked his schedule out of the way. His dinner plate and sleeve were splashed; as was Blaise beside him.

Snape grabbed the two boys and hauled them away. Draco flicked his wand to vanish the stains on his sleeve. His dinner was unsalvageable. He didn't bother getting a new plate, just pushed it away from him and leaned his head in his hands. His hair spilled over his face. It was getting long. Lucius wanted him to cut it, but Draco resisted. His small act of rebellion had confused Lucius. Hadn't he always given Draco what he wanted? What could possibly lead to such disobedience?

Draco wasn't entirely sure himself. It wasn't even that he liked long hair, he just… wanted to make his own decisions for a change.

Lucius had forced him to attend a few Death Eater meetings over the summer – small meetings, more soirees than official conferences. Lord Voldemort had not been in attendance, but Draco had seen enough to question their allegiance to him. But it wasn't as if he could actually talk to Lucius about it. Lucius Any time he raised a doubt, no matter how sound, no matter how small, his father acted as if he were about to move in the Weasleys'.

Draco snorted and glanced over at the Gryffindor table. As if. He watched the Golden Trio, still smug in their victory from last year. The other students had all but fallen over themselves to congratulate them for getting rid of Umbridge. Not that Draco mourned her removal. But it felt like something had shifted in the school, like Draco was no longer on the most powerful side. The inclusion of the new teachers only proved that.

Draco glanced to the Head Table, where the new teachers were sitting with Dumbledore. Bryant Stevick, in charge of Defense Against the Dark Arts had been a Ministry pick, but he was a nobody. His grandmother had been Patricia Hayworth, the only daughter of an old Pureblood family, but their fortune had been dwindling since the mid-1800s. Patricia had married a wealthy Muggleborn in hopes to keep some standard of living, but that money had been lost too. Stevick was an easy pick for the Ministry to make – ties to a Muggleborn to appease those that wanted more magical integration, but with an old-money tie to appease the Purebloods.

Draco had seen him before. Stevick attended many of the concerts and benefits that the old Pureblood families sponsored for various charitable purposes. Draco had formed the impression that he was someone who craved the good standing that had once been lost to him. Draco just wasn't sure what side Stevick would end up on. Would he side with Death Eaters at a chance to reclaim his family's fame? Or did he think Dumbledore was the safer option?

Draco slid his gaze over to Claire Jameson. He still wasn't sure about her, but he had Arithmancy. It'd give him the opportunity to study her further and assess if she was a lackey of Dumbledore or the Dark Lord.

Draco looked at the other new teacher, the one that gave him the most pause. Bill Weasley, the eldest child of Arthur and Molly Weasley. Unlike his parents, Bill Weasley had made a good living for himself as a curse breaker. It showed in his clothing, bright indigo robes over a gold oxford and black trousers. They were trendy clothes, of moderate expense. Paired with the braided hair and dangling skull earring, it gave him a rocker-chic vibe that Draco figured was intentional. It was a ridiculous look, in his opinion, but at least it was a look. The rest of the Weasley family looked like they'd grabbed clothing from a decades-old donation bin.

Draco frowned. He doubted that Bill Weasley had gotten his position by merit alone. While he was a well-known curse-breaker, he had no teaching experience. So either Dumbledore was doing the family a favor by employing him, or there was another purpose to his position.

He watched Weasley say something to Dumbledore and then glanced out over the hall. His eyes met Draco's. Draco waited for the professor to look away, most people did, but this Weasley didn't. He maintained the eye contact.

Draco narrowed his eyes into a glare. Weasley's eyes crinkled at the corner, like he was fighting a smile. Draco wondered if he was being mocked. He felt Blaise poke his shoulder and took the opportunity to look away.

Blaise was saying something about a Quidditch match he'd seen over the summer. Draco listened to his story – light-hearted and frivolous – and felt a stirring of envy for Blaise's life. What would it be like to spend a summer with his family, complaining about the little annoyances or laughing at something stupid a cousin had done? Instead, Draco had been choked with indoctrination and poorly disguised propaganda.

It didn't matter. Draco had seen through the lies and hyperbole. He wasn't going to be fooled so easily. If he took the Dark Mark, like his father planned for him next summer, he was going to do it out of his own free will. No one was going to decide for him.

And that was a good rule for the Dissenter's Code.

Rule number one: Make your own decisions.

OoOoOoO

Bill listened to Dumbledore's advice, then nodded. "I think I've got it, Headmaster. After all, I've cracked the Ramses Curse in three seconds flat, how hard can a bunch of kids be?" The joke was for his own benefit because he was nervous, about as nervous as he had been entering a pyramid on his own for the first time.

Dumbledore must have caught on to what he was feeling because he reached out and patted his arm. "I'm sure you'll do fine, Bill. You were Head Boy after all."

Bill smiled and cast a look down the table at his fellow new teachers, wondering if any of them looked as nervous as he felt. Bryant Stevick, the DADA professor, seemed fully focused on his meal. Bill had spoken with him briefly upon arrival. Stevick seemed strangely bored at the prospect of teaching. Claire Jameson, the Arithmancy teacher, had expressed her own anxiety, making Bill feel a little less alone. She was a pretty woman, with blonde hair and bright eyes and a voice so soft Bill wondered how she was going to be heard in the classroom. She was currently in conversation with Flitwick. He appeared to be giving her some teaching tips.

Three new teachers in the same year was unusual for Hogwarts, as were the dozen or so new students from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. It was a surprise so many students had transferred in because nearly twenty had been transferred out. Bill knew their parents were trying to decide what school could provide the most safety for their students in the midst of the unrest. Some parents thought Dumbledore offered the best chance at protection, while others thought the opposite. Bill glanced over the Great Hall and wondered if any of them would be proven right or wrong over the course of the next school year.

His gaze caught on someone staring at him. Bill blinked a moment in surprise. Draco Malfoy was openly watching him, not at all abashed in being caught staring.

Bill remembered all the stories Ron had told him, trying to convince Bill that the Slytherin was evil incarnate. Even Snape had words of warning. The Potions Master had given him a few words of advice in handling the rowdier students. When Bill had asked about Draco Malfoy, Snape's gaze had narrowed, but he'd only said "watch yourself around him".

It was hardly helpful advice, so Bill settled for staring right back at the boy. Draco narrowed his eyes in a truly impressive glare, but Bill didn't blink. The impromptu staring match ended when the boy next to Draco nudged him and asked a question. The eyes held for a moment longer, and then the icy gaze slid off of him and onto his friend.

Bill worked in a field, or had worked in a field as of two months ago, where attention to detail meant the difference between life in death, so when the Malfoy heir turned away, Bill did his own studying. He noticed the all black clothes, the black bag, and the black wand kept close to his hand, an intimidation factor. He squinted slightly to make out the boy's features. With all of the stories told about him, Bill expected someone who looked older. But Draco Malfoy looked his age, maybe even a little younger. He had the pale, sharp features that the Malfoys were known for. Lucius and Narcissa were an attractive couple, and Draco had inherited their good looks, as well as their money. Bill remembered enough of school to know that the combination of looks and money would make Draco popular among the students, but he also knew that popularity wouldn't be entirely genuine. Bill had been popular as well, but he'd been awkward-looking as a teen, and he had no money to his name. He liked to think his popularity was build on sincere friendships.

Bill pulled himself from his musings and tucked into his meal. He hadn't inherited the joy of cooking his mother possessed, and living on his own for so long meant he was starved for good food. Hogwarts had some of the best.

His gaze flickered once or twice to the sixth-year girl sitting at the Ravenclaw table. She was one of the transfer students. She'd been homeschooled up until now, but as her mother was ill and couldn't teach anymore, she'd been sent to Hogwarts. She appeared to be making friends. She was currently talking to Luna Lovegood and another Ravenclaw boy.

She glanced to the head table. Her lips twitched up in a smile. Bill forced himself not to return it.

Their mission was all about secrecy.

OoOoO

So there was way more re-writing on this one than expected, so it took longer than I wanted. Also, if you want to check out the chapter without the editing notes, I am cross-posting on Ao3.