The Code

by Aduro

AU,6th yr. Draco has a secret, he's a genius. Bill Weasley has a secret, he's a spy for the Order, and he's teaching Draco's Ancient Runes class. 6th year brings debate class, mystery, horcruxes, etc. The story is complete, but I am currently editing and commenting on the chapters. All newly revised chapters are at the END of the story.

57. Revised 26: In times of political unrest

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. As stated previously.

Rule 23: In times of political unrest and upheaval, stay inconspicuous to avoid attention.

Bill wasn't at breakfast that morning. Draco didn't think anything of it – not until he saw a certain Ravenclaw girl bidding goodbye to her friends. Ostensibly, she was just another student being pulled due to the violence at the school, but Draco knew who she really was. That was Auror Nymphadora Tonks, in deep cover, translating the coded messages that Bill put into his homework assignments. If she was going home, then Bill wasn't spying anymore. But Bill had said he was going to finish out the rest of the school year. There were still three weeks left.

Something bad must have happened.

Draco had the sudden urge to run up to the infirmary, to see if Bill was there, but he forced himself to stay sitting. It wouldn't do for him to make a scene. Besides, both Ron and Ginny were at the Gryffindor table, talking and laughing with their friends. If Bill had been seriously injured, they wouldn't be there. They'd be with him.

The logic was sound, but his fingers tapped anxiously together, 1 to 2-4-3-5, until Runes arrived. He made a beeline for class, outpacing the other students, so he was first to see Bill at his teacher's desk, alive and smiling and healthy – all except for his ankle, which was heavily bandaged and propped up on his desk.

If Bill was surprised to see Draco practically run into his classroom, he didn't show it. He just gave Draco a reassuring smile and then the other students were filing in behind him. They all gasped and exclaimed at Bill's injury and pestered him with questions. Draco silently took his seat, listening to Bill's story about tripping on the moving staircase late last night, fracturing his ankle.

"I haven't gotten tripped since I was a first-year!" Bill exclaimed in faux outrage.

The class was easily convinced. They laughed and teased Bill, and then poked fun at each other, calling out their friends on their exploits on the staircase until Bill called them to order and started the lesson.

Draco remained after class, as was tradition on Thursdays, and pulled a chair up to Bill's desk. "So, what really happened?"

Bill glanced at the door, making sure it was shut, before he answered with a grimace, "Auror raid."

Draco winced back because that was a stroke of bad luck.

"I got caught in the evacuation," Bill elaborated. "Someone bumped me, the Death Eaters realized there was an invisible spy in their midst, and yanked the cloak up enough to expose my feet. Caught a slicing hex, right on my ankle."

Draco could picture the injury. There wasn't much flesh and muscle on the ankle. A slicing hex could easily slice through the lower portion of the tibia and fibula, and that would be an incapacitating injury. He had no doubt that whoever had cast the charm had meant to cripple Bill and capture him.

"They didn't see your face though?" he asked, needing to double-check that information.

"My identity is safe."

Draco let out a breath. Bill had been lucky, very lucky. "Well, I suppose the timing works out, since you were planning on retiring anyway. I take it the mark was removed?"

Bill nodded. Draco thought he'd be relieved, but there was something pinched about his expression. Draco tipped his head to the side in silent question.

"It's nothing," Bill said, trying to wave off the unspoken inquiry. "It's just… I felt the mark. It would burn when Voldemort would call, and I only had a piece of it, but it… it was like fire on my skin. I know that sharing it with Severus took some of his pain. I just… wish I could still help with that part of it."

Draco blinked for a moment, then snorted a bit of incredulous laughter at Bill's incessant desire to be helpful. "Well, seeing as you didn't pledge your soul to the Dark Lord, you shouldn't have to pay the price of it."

Bill sat up a little straighter. "Severus has been paying back his debt. He endures pain and torture and humiliation for the merest scraps of information. If I can help him in anyway then –,"

Draco held up a hand, cutting him off. "I wasn't trying to be condescending. Just… you don't have to rescue everyone from the consequences of their own actions."

Bill paused for a moment, then sat back and let out a breath. "And I don't mean to be pretentiously moralistic. You make a fair point."

They both looked at each other, recognizing how quickly they'd conceded over something that might have been an argument not too long ago.

Bill chuckled. "Look at us, finally figuring out how to communicate with each other."

"Right in time for the semester to end," Draco agreed wryly.

Bill reached into his desk to pull out their runes work. "How's the end of the year treating you? Finals giving you any trouble?" There was a smile about his lips as he said it. He was teasing him.

Draco objected to the humor. "It's more difficult than you think, getting all E's. I have to make it look believable, so I have to plot my weaknesses."

"Plot your weaknesses?"

"In Transfigurations, I pretend to struggle with theory. In Potions, I purposely flub-up the healing-based potions. In Defense, I weaken my shield spells. It's a way to keep continuity. Basically, I pick a common flaw in each class and then apply it through the year."

"Huh," said Bill. "That does sound like a lot of extra work."

"And speaking of extra work," Draco said, "I may or may not have to write a huge essay on Sunday for the debate."

"May not?" Bill asked. "I thought all students in the Neutral party had to write an essay in reaction to the debate."

"So we've been threatened."

"You think your mutiny will get you out of it?"

"It's… possible." There was an idea Draco was toying with. One he wasn't sure would work.

Bill gave him a mock-glare. "You can't just leave a hint like that and say nothing. What are you planning?"

Draco had wanted to tell Bill about the mutiny. He'd even suggested it to the Neutral party. After all, the other two parties had faculty advisors, and having Bill's support would lend more credence to their demands. But the other students had been too nervous to ask.

"Better to ask forgiveness then permission," Goldstein had said.

So Draco said nothing now, just a simple, "You'll have to wait and see."

"Well, if you're able to skip the essay, then it gives you a plausible reason to claim Neutrality," Bill said. "Skiving off on work is very Slytherin."

"Rule twenty-three," Draco said. "In times of political unrest and upheaval, stay inconspicuous to avoid attention."

"Rule twenty-three of what?" Bill asked.

"The code I follow."

"What code is that?"

Draco sat back in his chair. "Well, Lucius always quotes rules at me. He says that it's part of the Malfoy Code of Conduct. I thought I might as well come up with my own."

"What sorts of rules do you have?" Bill asked.

Draco listed off a few of them. "Know thy enemy; be prepared to fight in all forms of combat; maintain reputations unless you can afford to lose them; if you know you are going to fail, make sure something else takes the blame."

"Some of those seem tailored to specific events," Bill said.

"They have to start somewhere," Draco said, and then, because Bill didn't look convinced, "Everyone has a code they follow."

"Do they?" Bill asked.

"Sure," said Draco. "Potter will rescue someone because it is in his code to act the hero, Dumbledore will try to save everyone because his code believes it is the right thing to do, and the Dark Lord will kill all Mudbloods because his code says he's superior."

"I think you're describing a value system," Bill said.

"Value systems are vague and unspecified codes," Draco countered.

Bill leaned in, resting his elbows on his desk. "Can you give me an example?"

It was clear he wasn't convinced, but he was giving Draco the opportunity to explain himself. It was one of the things Draco liked best about him.

"Sure, let's use Snape," Draco said, since both of them were familiar with the Potions Master's history. "He originally thought his code matched the Dark Lord's, so he became a Death Eater. It was only after that experience that he began to construct his own code. When he realized it wasn't a match, he became a spy for Dumbledore."

Bill's face passed through a complicated set of emotions. "That is… not actually what happened."

"What do you mean?"

"Snape became a spy because he was in love with Lily Potter, Harry's mother."

Draco blinked. "What?" That was a piece of information he'd never heard of before.

"It's why Dumbledore trusts him as much as he does," Bill said. "Snape didn't leave the Death Eaters because of a philosophical difference. He left because he was emotionally devastated."

Draco blinked again, still not fully comprehending the words Bill was saying. "Severus Snape was in love with Lily Potter?"

"Technically he was in love with Lily Evans," Bill said. "They were neighbors and went to Hogwarts together. He was bullied a lot, she stuck up for him, and he fell in love. But she was a Muggle-born, and he started hanging out with Death Eaters. They had a falling out. She eventually married James Potter, who was one of Severus's bullies in school."

"That sounds like the plot of a bad romance novel," Draco said, having trouble believing it was true.

"Romance books are sometimes closer to real life than you think," Bill said. "When Severus realized that Lily was being targeted by Voldemort, he told Dumbledore to try to save her, but it was too late. Voldemort killed Lily and James, and tried to kill Harry too, but you know the rest of that story."

Draco reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. All this time, he'd thought that Snape's spying had been due to philosophical difference, not… not excessive emotions and teenaged drama and forbidden romances. His opinion of his Head of House was dropping rapidly.

"I'm not sharing this information lightly," Bill said. "It's just… Severus wasn't led by a code when he joined the Dark Lord. He was led by anger. And he wasn't led by a code when he turned spy for Dumbledore. He was led by guilt and love. While it's well and good to have a set of values to follow, we're mostly led by our emotions."

"But emotional decisions are bad decisions," Draco said quickly.

Bill quirked a grin at him. "Sometimes. But if I'm being honest, it was an emotional decision to confronted you about being a genius. The logical decision would have been to tell Dumbledore."

Draco opened his mouth, wanting to object, but Bill wasn't saying anything that wasn't true. He probably should have turned Draco in. Still, it irked him that Bill had so handedly pointed out the flaw in his thinking.

"So you're saying we should only make emotional decisions?" he challenged, knowing that Bill wasn't saying that but wanting to push back anyway.

"Certainly not," Bill said immediately. "But if we look at Severus's decisions, we can identify how to make good emotional decisions. His decision to join the Death Eaters was made out of anger and he eventually regretted that decision. His decision to spy was made out of guilt and love. That's something he doesn't regret. Do you know what the difference is in those decisions?"

Draco felt stupid. No, not stupid. He felt young, like a child. Bill was asking gently, but it sounded like he thought the answer should be obvious. But Draco couldn't see the difference. He had to shake his head.

"Only one of those decisions matched his values," Bill answered. "Our value system – or our code, as you say – is meant to temper our emotions, so we don't regret our choices. But it's still important to listen to our emotions when we're making a decision. When I decided to confront you, I was feeling hope. But I also knew, logically, that you weren't as bad as you tried to make yourself out to be. That's why I took the chance."

Draco made a face. "It sounds messy."

Bill grinned. "Perhaps. But it's also a lot of fun."

There was nothing about it that sounded fun, but Draco knew Bill had far more expertise with people than he did. Even though he wasn't convinced by Bill's argument, that didn't mean he was wrong. Draco tucked those ideas away as they turned their attention to the runes, and it was with a pang of disappointment that Draco realized that the end of the school year would also bring about the end of their work together. And, somewhat worryingly, Bill hadn't said anything about coming back next year. He thought about asking, but the prospect that Bill would say 'no' was too daunting. He held the question in, even as their work concluded and he packed his things up.

He exited the classroom, and all thoughts of codes, emotions, and next year were immediately swept away as he saw Claire Jameson approach, clearly looking for Bill.

"Still getting tutored?" she asked him lightly.

It was a normal question, but there was still something off about her, still something in her voice and clothes and posture, that put him on edge.

Draco pulled on his best sneer. "If the man could teach properly, I'd be caught up already. I'll have to take another summer course if I want any chance at getting my NEWTs."

His tone was venomous enough that any other professor would have dismissed him or reprimanded him. Claire did neither. Instead, she stepped closer, tipping her head to the side and furrowing her brow in a show of confusion. "I heard Bill is a good teacher."

She was prying. Draco was sure of it. But why would she have any reason to doubt his story? Why would she have any reason to keep talking to him? Draco felt uneasy, and decided it was safest to end the conversation.

"He's a bloody idiot," Draco said, "but I suppose you're sweet on him, which is why you're defending him. I hate to break it to you, but he did get engaged to a Veela. Do you really think you can compete against a Veela? And in tweed of all things?" He gestured, derisively, to the tweed skirt-suit she was wearing. Modest. Conservative. Unnecessarily buttoned up.

She took a step back and raised a hand to her throat. "I don't think I like what you're insinuating. I am a professor and I –,"

Draco rolled his eyes and stepped around her. "I don't care about your lack of love life. Just don't drag me into it."

She widened her eyes and stuttered over a response as he left. It was an act, Draco was sure of it, because there was no flush on her face, no sweat or quickened breathing, no somatic signs of distress. He rounded the corner and paused once he was out of sight. He cast a quick camouflage charm over himself and peered around. Claire had gone into Bill's room. They were talking, but too lowly for Draco to hear. He cast a hearing aid charm.

"– the least I could do," Claire was saying. "Here, let me grab those for you."

"You came down just to carry my books?" Bill asked.

"Well, I also wanted to ask if you might be free to cover Saturday detention for me," Claire said. "You can say no, of course, but – oh! Careful!"

The last exclamation came with the thunk of a cast against a desk. Bill swore, then apologized for his language.

"No need to apologize," Claire reassured him. "How did you manage to break your ankle anyways?"

"That damned moving staircase," Bill said.

Draco was relieved to hear Bill lie so easily. Claire was prying again. He was sure of it.

"Should you really be putting any weight on it then?" Claire pressed, proving his suspicions. "It must be a complex break, if Pomfrey wasn't able to heal it overnight. Most simple fractures are an easy fix."

"Oh, it's mostly healed," Bill said, still sounding open and blasé. "But I think Pomfrey's been a little anxious of late, with all the attacks and injuries that have happened over the schoolyear. She's playing it safe, and I'm happy to follow instructions."

"I suppose we can't blame her for being overly cautious," Claire said.

Draco heard them approach the hall and quickly retreated to his dorm. Claire's questions could be innocent, but Draco couldn't help but feel she was interrogating him and Bill. But why? To what purpose? Stevick had been the Death Eater. He'd been the one who had gone after the horcrux. There was no reason for Draco to suspect Claire. No reason for him to suspect anyone. The danger was gone.

Still, Claire's questions nagged at him all through the next day, and not even a warm, sunny Friday could cheer him up – at least, not the way it cheered the students around him. They were all eager to escape outdoors once classes had finished. Draco followed, hoping the warm air and blue sky might pull him away from the nagging in his head.

It didn't help.

He found himself wandering down to Hagrid's hut in search of something to do. His distress must have shown on his face because as soon as he arrived, Hagrid gave him a grin.

"I've seen tha' face before," he said. "Finals got yeh worried?"

"Something like that," Draco admitted, and then realized, unwittingly, that his decision to maintain his friendship with Hagrid been an emotional decision, and not one that was based in his code. Was Bill right? Should Draco, Merlin forbid, start taking his emotions into account when making his decisions? The thought troubled him, making him frown further.

"I'll call Orion," Hagrid said. "Yeh could prob'ly use a distraction."

The groundskeeper gave an ear-piercing whistle, and somewhere in the forest, Orion answered with a high-pitched whinny. A few seconds later, the thestral emerged from the canopy of the trees, flying speedily towards them.

Rather than running Orion through the ground obstacles, Draco took Orion up into the air, the castle shrinking below them. Draco enjoyed flying. There was something liberating about it, a way to shake off all the troubles and complexities of life. He checked the saddle, to make sure he was properly strapped in, and then pulled on the reins, directing Orion into a roll. The thestral readily complied. Over the last few months, Draco had learned that Orion's true strengths were in the air. The thestral loved the rolls and dives that Draco taught him and he executed them all flawlessly, making Draco laugh in exhilaration.

They spent the afternoon in flight, and only returned to the ground when the sun started to set. Draco brushed him down and left him with Hagrid to receive his treats and headed back in, wanting to grab a shower before dinner. He was just emerging from the bathroom when Blaise came into the dorm, sopping wet and smelling of the lake.

"Hey," Blaise greeted him. He bent down to pull off his wet boots.

"Evening," Draco returned, then added, "I haven't seen you in a while."

"I've been staying away from Nott," Blaise said. "Him and the rest of the seventh years."

Draco nodded and clenched his mouth shut over the next question. He shouldn't care enough to ask, but the emotion won out in the end. He gestured at Blaise's clothes. "Do they have anything to do with your present state?"

"Nah," said Blaise. "Me and Harry threw Ron into the lake, but then Harry turned on me."

Draco raised an eyebrow. "Getting chummy with Gryffindors?"

"Sort of have to," Blaise said. "No one here wants to hang out with me. Or, if they do want to hang out, they're too scared to. Nott made it clear he'd target anyone close to me."

"Has he been giving you any trouble lately?" Draco asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

"Not since you dueled them," Blaise said.

"It was time to put them in their place," Draco agreed. He reached for his school bag, already planning out a library homework session after he ate.

"If you hadn't wiped their memories the first time, you may not have needed to duel them again," Blaise said.

Draco paused. He slowly looked up at the other boy. "What?"

"When they jumped me after the debate meeting," Blaise said, "back during the start of school. None of them remember what happen, so I assume you obliviated them, like you obliviated me. But mine didn't stick that well. I've been remembering things. Snippets and dreams, but enough to know that you saved me."

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Draco told him firmly.

"I'm not going to tell anyone," Blaise said quickly. "And frankly, even if I did, no one would believe me."

"Of course they wouldn't believe you," Draco said. "Obliviate six people in one night? That's impossible."

He grabbed his bag and made for the door, not wanting to stay a minute longer. Blaise called after him, stopping him in his tracks.

"I know you're good at magic, Draco. Hell, you used the Cruciatus curse in front of the entire house, so I know you have the power for it. And I know you're in the Neutral party even though without you, Superiority doesn't stand a chance. I know that you saved me from Nott and the others, but then took the blame for it to save your reputation. I also know that you don't say 'Mudblood' anymore, you stopped segregation in the house, and you just asked if I was still being bullied. I know what it all means."

Draco clenched his jaw. How many times this year was his cover going to be blown?

"What does it mean?" he ground out.

"It means something's going on with you," Blaise said simply. "I don't know what it is, but since you've helped me, I'd like to offer my help in return. Anything you need."

Draco let out a breath of relief. Blaise hadn't called him a genius or spotted Draco's political questioning to anymore extent than his own behavior had given away. That was a relief. But he couldn't take Blaise up on his offer. That was a step too far.

"I don't need your help," he said, and turned back to the door.

"What about a friend then?" Blaise called after him. "Could we be friends?"

Draco paused. "Ask me next year." And then he left the room.

Saturday came, bringing with it a nervous energy. The debate was tomorrow, and the memories of the first debate – an immediate descent into insults and yelling – was heavy in everyone's minds. It was also the start of the final weeks of school. Projects were coming due and exams were scheduled. It was rude of Dumbledore to schedule the debate so close to the chaos of the end of term. Draco tried to get some work done that morning and found the library packed full of students and professors alike, the students studying for the exams that the professors were making last minute adjustments too. It was hard to say who was more anxious, the professors or the students. The students scribbled out their notes, whispering nervously back and forth, and the professors were quick to shush them when their voices were raised higher than a whisper. Even Claire Jameson, by far the most mild-mannered professor Hogwarts had ever seen, was irked enough to reprimand a trio of Hufflepuff fourth years who were, admittedly, being quite obnoxious. It was enough of the departure of her 'nice' persona that Draco trailed after her when she left library, curious to her change of personality.

Claire didn't return to her office. Instead, she stopped by McGonagall's.

"Here you are, Claire," McGonagall said, handing over a large brass key with a tag on it.

Draco knew what those were, school-issued Portkeys that professors and students could use in case of an emergency. Where was Claire going?

"I do hope your father's okay," McGonagall said.

"As far as I can tell, he is," Claire said in the tremulous voice of someone trying to be brave. "I'll be back tomorrow, for the debate."

"If you need to take longer, it is acceptable," said the Deputy Headmistress. "We have emergency leave for that reason."

"It's just… so close to finals," Claire said. "I'd hate to leave my students now, but thank you."

Draco slipped away before he was discovered spying and sighed. He supposed that explained why she'd been so irritable. He didn't know why it rankled him, that there was a reason for her bad behavior. He was just so sure that she was hiding something, so sure there was something going on underneath her façade of shyness, that he wanted proof of it. But maybe he was just paranoid.

He sighed again and turned down the hall towards the Room of Requirement. The Neutral party had one last meeting before the debate, and the group had grown – more than Draco had expected. He'd originally thought he might appeal to half of the Neutral students, but under Anthony Goldstein's passionate direction and Isobel MacDuogal's strict management, they'd pulled in all of the Neutrality students, a handful of Equality and Superiority students who'd only picked sides because of peer-pressure, and some precocious younger students who weren't even part of the debate. Draco sat in the back of the room as Isobel distributed their plan of action to the gathered students and lectured about 'remembering their cues'. Goldstein paced in the corner, shooting off new ideas to his friends who gently, but with some exasperation, reminded him that there wasn't any more time to change plans.

Goldstein was placated, the larger group of students were dismissed, and then the room dropped to the handful of students that would be speaking at the debate. Isobel wanted to review their written statements.

Draco stayed, not because he was speaking, but because he was curious. Pansy lingered as well, looking bored and uninterested, but Draco saw the way her eyebrow twitched anytime she caught a weakness in someone's speech. Isobel caught most of the inconsistencies and sent those students back to re-work some passages.

"This might actually work," Pansy murmured in his ear.

"You needn't sound so surprised," Draco whispered back.

Anthony glanced their way, and then suddenly sat up straight. "Aren't you both giving a statement?"

"We decided it might be too polarizing, remember?" Isobel reminded him.

"I thought we said everyone in Neutrality should have a chance to speak." Anthony looked at them, a frown pulling at his face. "Don't you want to give a statement?"

"I'd be willing to give a speech," Pansy agreed, "but I doubt people would be willing to listen. Many people know that my family is political."

"That doesn't matter!" Anthony insisted. "We, as the Neutral party, shouldn't be able to kick members out just because we don't like their political reasons. If we do that, we're as bad as the other parties." He turned to Isobel in question.

Isobel turned to Draco. "When I said that your statement would be polarizing, you agreed with me. I took that to mean you didn't want to give a speech."

"I don't," Draco agreed, but then he paused. He'd had idle thoughts about what he'd say if he did give a statement, everything from telling the faculty to screw themselves to an impassioned lecture on the political divide. He'd dismissed all those ideas, but one kept returning. It wasn't so much what he'd say. It would be what he'd imply, and what impact that would have on the students. Not just a mutiny; an all-out rebellion.

"You want to say something, don't you?" Anthony asked.

"I would like to give a statement to end the whole debate," Draco said.

Isobel let out a snort. "You think you can give a speech so compelling and insightful that you can end the whole debate?"

"No," said Draco. "But I think I can give a speech that will highlight the ridiculous and unenforceable nature of the debate, and thereby bring an end to it. But since all of you have worked so hard on your statements, I'll go last so I don't ruin them."

"That's so thoughtful of you," Isobel said, rolling her eyes.

Anthony leaned forward. "We've been planning to engage in the debate. Why do you think it's better to end it?"

"Because ending the debate gives Neutrality the power," Draco said. "If there's no audience left, then Superiority and Equality are left screaming at each other without an audience."

"And why do you want to give Neutrality power?" Anthony pressed.

His question wasn't an easy one, but there was an easy answer Draco could give. He could say he just wanted to mess with people, and they'd believe it. He'd always been known for his defiance of school rules. But in this moment, Anthony seemed genuinely interested in his answer. And Isobel did too, even though she was regarding him skeptically.

All of his logic, all of his code, told Draco not to be honest with them. To never show weakness. To never trust. To never share his thoughts and feelings in a way that could be used against him. But he knew the people in this room. They had their own codes of conduct. They were, for the most part, good and kind and compassionate with strong opinions on morality and ethics. These were people that Bill would trust, and he would advise Draco to trust them as well. And hadn't Draco already been burnt by not being honest with them? After the fire on the Quidditch field, they'd pulled back from the mutiny plan because they had no reason to believe that Draco was inciting it for anything other than personal gain.

The silence stretched longer than Draco intended. The whole room was looking at him now. Even if Draco did try to be flippant, they wouldn't believe him. Not when he was taking too long to answer a simple question.

Draco sighed and sat back in his chair. "Slytherin's fucked. The current politics are tearing the house apart."

"Draco," Pansy said lowly.

He turned to look at her. He'd shocked the whole room with his candor, but she was the most surprised.

"You know it too," he said. "You're from the most respected neutral families and even you couldn't navigate that divide." He turned back to the rest of the room. "It's no secret that the Dark Lord has strong ties to Slytherin, more than any other house here. There might be, what, ten percent of Ravenclaws and fifteen percent of Hufflepuffs with direct ties to Death Eaters?"

Isobel tipped her head to the side, counting it up.

"And about five percent of Gryffindors," Anthony added.

Draco nodded. "Nearly forty percent of Slytherin students have parents with connections to Death Eaters. That percentage rises to sixty-five if you count extended family members."

Anthony's eyes narrowed at Draco. "If war breaks out…,"

"Slytherin implodes," Draco finished for him. "If there isn't a viable Neutral party, then the Death Eater students turn on their more reluctant classmates. Students are forced to swear fealty to the Dark Lord or are exiled from the house."

"Isn't that what you want?" Isobel asked. Darla hissed at her; she raised her hands in protest. "I'm just saying that Malfoy has made his opinions about Muggle-borns and Half-bloods all too apparent." She pinned Draco with a no-nonsense glare. "Don't you want Slytherin to be run by Death Eater sympathizers?"

"Despite what you might think, I am able to grasp the idea of cause and effect," Draco said. "If there's no Neutrality, then the Death Eater-faction forces the non-Death Eaters out of the house. Slytherin can't sustain that loss."

"So you're doing this for house pride?" Isobel asked skeptically.

"No," said Anthony, speaking for Draco. "It's an escape clause. Legitimizing a Neutral party will decrease the chances of a civil war in Slytherin, but it also makes it easier for students to avoid the Dark Mark. Avoiding the Mark means that if the Death Eaters lose the war, it's easier to avoid criminal prosecution."

"You could see it that way," Draco allowed.

"How do you see it?" Isobel asked.

"I'm not keen on having another war," Draco said. "I'll remind you all that I've been injured twice this year in Death Eater attacks. Tensions are escalating, and I don't like living in danger. By empowering a Neutral party, we deescalate those tensions. After all, it's hard to fight a battle without soldiers."

"There are some in Slytherin who would find that viewpoint treasonous," Pansy remarked lightly.

"And there are some in Slytherin who seem hellbent on senselessly martyring themselves before they graduate," Draco retorted. "I'd like to live a long and healthy life."

He didn't miss the way the other students leaned into their conversation. It was some of their first glimpses into the fracture in Slytherin.

"You're referring to Nott and his ilk," Anthony said.

"It is rather obvious," Draco agreed. "And I will remind you all that our house does have a few students who express viewpoints more similar to your own – Blaise Zabini, for one. You all seem to like him. It would be easier for him and others like him if there was a Neutral party as well."

He paused and waited to see what they'd say. A few of them whispered to each other. Isobel pulled Anthony to the side. Draco didn't bother trying to listen in to their conversation. He'd either convinced them, or he hadn't. It was out of his hands now.

Pansy leaned in. "You're not usually so honest."

"I don't usually have reason to be," Draco said. "But honesty seems to work better with certain people."

She hummed in thought, then asked, "Are these new opinions you've had? Or are you simply hedging your bets if the Dark Lord loses?"

"I've hinted at my opinions," Draco reminded her.

"You hint at a lot," Pansy said, a touch of irritation in her voice.

Draco knew that Pansy liked to know what people were thinking. It was an important part of political spying – to know how people thought, what decisions they were going to make, what their political and philosophical leanings were. She didn't like being surprised, and he'd just surprised her.

Isobel and Anthony came back before he could respond, and Draco could tell, by their expressions, that they were going to back him up.

"Okay," said Isobel. "You can share your statement, but you have to go last, just in case you do manage to cancel the whole thing." She crossed her arms. "Care to share what's going to be so mind-boggling that the entire debate gets tossed?"

"I think it's better as a surprise," Draco said.

Isobel rolled her eyes at his secrecy.

Anthony grinned.

Draco found himself smiling back.

And yet, as he lay awake that night, part of him wondered if he'd just made a mistake. What if he shouldn't have trusted them? What if word got around about his actions and people realized he was genuinely shifting towards neutrality? What if he couldn't keep balancing on the tightrope he was stretching out for himself?

The night crept by in agonizing slowness, seemingly all the longer for his racing thoughts. He finally got up, dug a sleeping drought out of his trunk, and swallowed it down.

Sunday came, warm and sunny and inevitable. Draco found himself in a grim state of determination. His plan would be put into motion soon. The dice would fall, however they may, and Draco would either come out a powerful victor or an ineffectual loser. A headache spiked behind his eyes,

He wasn't the only feeling trepidation for the debate. Equality and Superiority students practiced their speeches on the lawn for their friends, trying to work out all of their public-speaking nerves. The younger students, relegated to audience members, darted around the impromptu speeches, trying to avoid it as long as possible. Dinner came, and it was unnervingly silent, the only sounds being whispered conversations and the clinking of silverware.

As soon as the last dessert dishes were cleared, Dumbledore stood up from his chair. "Good evening students," he announced jovially, evidently immune to the anxiety brewing around him. "At this time, we will transition into our Debate Class. Just like before, members of the Equality and Superiority groups will take turns responding to prompts that the faculty members have prepared. These prompts will address current affairs, politic issues, and ethical quandaries. Each side will get two minutes to state their point, and a one-minute rebuttal to the other side. All Neutral students will be asked to listen to the debate and write a paper identifying which side you felt was more compelling on each question and why. Additionally, we will be asking the younger students to write a reaction paper. Both of these assignments are to be turned into your Head of House by end of the day Monday."

There was a loud groan from the audience. The younger students had thought they'd get out of the debate without any homework, and the Neutral students hadn't realized how stringent their essay was going to be, not to mention how quickly it was due.

"Now," said Dumbledore, ignoring the mutterings in the hall, "if all of you would rise from your tables, we will situate ourselves."

The students grudgingly got to their feet. The students in the Equality and Superiority parties stepped to the front of the room as Dumbledore raised his wand and swept it over the Great Hall. The furniture began to move and shift. The long tables walked themselves to the sides of the room. The long benches pulled into the middle and then began stacking themselves, creating a set of bleachers not unlike the Quidditch stadium. The head table was pulled back and a low stage was raised in the front of the hall. Two podiums appeared in the middle of the stage, facing each other, lit by two large, floating chandeliers. Behind the podiums, chairs arranged themselves in neat rows. The Equality and Superiority groups filed into those chairs and the professors reclaimed their seats at the head table, facing the stage and readying their questions. The younger students began jostling for the bleachers, trying to get the preferred seats in the back and save spots for their friends.

The Neutral students did not sit. Draco and Pansy made their way to the steadily growing number of students standing in front of the bleachers. At first, the professors didn't notice. They were too busy consulting with the debate parties and settling themselves, but soon it became obvious that something was amiss. They turned in their chairs to survey the group. The students in the bleachers began pointing to the standing students, leaning over to their friends to wonder about it.

"The audience is to be seated," McGonagall directed sternly.

That was the first cue. The Neutral party members who weren't planning on giving their statements reached into their bags and pulled out rolls of spell-o-tape. They tore off long strips, placing them over their mouths. The spell-o-tape turned black. White words appeared on the surface, reading 'SILENCED', 'GAGGED', and 'INJUSTICE'.

"Really," McGonagall huffed. "This isn't the time for a demonstration. Take your seats!"

That was the second cue. The taped-mouth students began filing into the bleachers as the audience gawked and whispered. The remaining neutral students pulled out their wands. Draco and Pansy set off small firework charms, to get everyone's attention. Darla Burgess flicked her wand at the stage. The floor cracked and a podium sprang up, right in the middle of the two already positioned. Isobel and Anthony transfigured a line of chairs behind it while Justin Steel twirled his wand and a large banner appeared, gently floating above the stage, reading out 'Neutral Party'.

Isobel led the way onto the stage as the professors at the head table stared, dumbfounded at the display. Nicolas Downing flicked his wand and the microphone that had been attached to the head table flew to the neutral podium. That spurred the professors into action.

"Mr. Downing!" Sprout protested, her voice drowned out by Flitwick's high piping, "Mr. Goldstein and Ms. MacDougal, what is the meaning of this?"

Isobel stepped to the microphone. Draco and Pansy dropped their firework spells and pulled the two chandeliers, that had been floating over the Equality and Superiority groups, to hang over the Neutral podium. Anthony and Darla flicked their wands to pull down the ambient lighting in the room. The students in the bleachers, those who didn't have tape over their mouths, fell silent as the room darkened.

Isobel leaned into the microphone. "Hello, I'm Isobel MacDougal. A member of the Neutral Party."

The professors, who had taken to their feet at the interruption, paused. Isobel had been the obvious choice to make their opening statement. She was known to be a stickler for the rules and was one of the rare students who had never lost her house any points. It was that reputation for goodness that bought her the time to speak.

"At this time, I would like to address our professors, fellow students, and audience members," she said, nodding to the head table, other parties, and audience in turn. "We believe the Neutral Party, a party that has been unfairly and unjustly silenced. We were not invited to be a part of the first debate, nor were we invited to this one. But we refuse to be silenced anymore."

McGonagall stood, casting a sonorous on her throat. "This is not the agreed upon format of the debate," she said. "All of you are to leave the stage, immediately."

"But there is no format to the debate," Isobel countered. "At least, not officially. When this class was announced at the beginning of the year, it was implied that it was a mandatory, Ministry-approved part of the curriculum. However, this debate is actually an extra-curricular activity that we all were forced into. Isn't that correct?"

Draco heard mutterings from the back of the hall, in the bleachers. A few students on the Equality and Superiority parties turned to their classmates. Whispers started. He hid a smirk.

"Ms. MacDougal, you and your compatriots will leave the stage, or we will begin to take points," McGonagall threatened.

Draco saw Isobel flinch at the threat. He knew she valued her reputation, even bragged about it, but her hands tightened on the sides of the podium.

"I will not leave," she retorted, "not until you can explain why an unofficial, extra-curricular debate class has neglected over one-third of the students here. Look behind you! See all of the students you have silenced!"

That was the third clue. In the dark of the bleachers, the students raised their wands, lighting their taped mouths with a simple lumos charm. They stared defiantly back at the professors. It was a striking display. Draco could hear the parties to either side of him begin to whisper to each other.

"If you are interested in discourse," Isobel told the professors, "that is, truly interested in discourse, and not interested in spreading propaganda, then you will listen to us. To all of us."

McGonagall looked shocked at the accusation of propaganda. Flitwick and Sprout looked annoyed that they weren't being obeyed. Snape crossed his arms and sat back, looking for all the world like he was bored, but Draco caught the glimmer of amusement in his eyes.

"At this time, I would like to petition our audience," Isobel continued. "In the age of democracy, it is you, the people, to whom we are beholden. We ask that you vote in favor of letting us take part in this debate, but whatever your decision is, we will respect your wishes."

Draco thought this part of Isobel's speech was unnecessarily dramatic, but as a 'good student', Isobel had a hard time defying the professors. By asking for a vote and gaining school support, she was able to ease her conscience.

That was the fourth and final cue. Anthony hadn't just recruited the Neutral students, he'd recruited dozens of younger students as well, students who weren't allowed to be part of the debate but who wanted to be. Those students took to their feet now, lighting their own lumos charms and shouting support.

"Let Neutrality speak!"

"Let Neutrality be heard!"

"We support all viewpoints!"

"Don't silence anyone!"

With that show of support, the rest of the audience took to their feet, lighting up their own wands in a full, unanimous vote. On either side of the stage, the whispers of Equality and Superiority groups turned into a burst of exclamations. In front of the stage, the professors turned to each other, taken aback at the full school mutiny before them.

Isobel leaned back to the microphone. "Professors, it is with the support of the entire school that we ask to take part in this debate."

The professors hesitated. McGonagall opened her mouth but couldn't seem to find the words to say. Dumbledore's head tipped quizzically at the neutral students. His eyes lighted on each of them, spending the most time on Draco, like he wasn't sure what to make of him.

At the end of the table, Bill stood up. The Great Hall fell silent; the neutral students pulled in a breath. This was it. If they'd managed to win over the professors, then their plan would have worked. Draco hid a smile, already knowing how Bill would vote.

"A true debate has more than two sides," Bill told the professors. He wasn't addressing the crowd, but his voice carried in the silence. "I motion to allow the Neutral party to speak."

All around him, the Neutral students let out sighs of relief.

"I'd second that motion," Lupin said, which was a surprise to Draco. He didn't know if Lupin was only supporting Bill, or if he genuinely thought the Neutrality party was a good idea.

"I hear two motions," Dumbledore said. "And I also hear the support of the student body. We will allow the Neutral party to have a part of this debate."

Isobel turned the group with a grin. The students in the bleachers cheered. Both the Equality group and Superiority group objected.

"Headmaster!" Hermione protested, "we haven't had the chance to prepare statements against a Neutral viewpoint."

"They don't have any opinions!" Nott exclaimed. "They're just doing this to get out writing a paper!"

Draco saw a few students in the bleachers perk up at Nott's exclamation and felt a prick of pleased satisfaction. Nott was setting the stage nicely for Draco's statement.

Dumbledore raised his hands, silencing the crowd. "I believe that a well-formed argument will stand for itself," he told Hermione, and then he turned to Nott, "and we will see what opinions they have shortly. I admit, I'm quite eager to hear it myself." He looked to Isobel. "I assumed that the Neutral group would be persuaded into Equality or Superiority following the debates. I see now that I was thinking in dichotomies. But as our Runes Professor has stated, there are more than two sides during the debate. I apologize if I have made any of you feel stifled. Please, let us continue."

Draco rolled his eyes at Dumbledore's apology. He didn't think for a minute that the Headmaster hadn't realized that there were more than two parties. He'd only been using the debate to push students into his army.

"Thank you, Headmaster," Isobel said, accepting the apology graciously. "And if you don't mind, we have a statement prepared. As the other groups got to give an opening statement during the last debate, I think it's only fair if we can give our own."

"By all means," Dumbledore said.

Isobel turned the page in her binder and looked out at the students. "Thank you for listening to us and giving us your support. At this time, I'd like to introduce the Neutral Party. We are the most diverse party on this stage. We come from different cultures, socioeconomic classes, and political backgrounds. We have different family systems and practice different traditions. We even root for different Quidditch teams."

There was a smattering of laughter at that statement, like Isobel had intended. She paused to let it die down before continuing.

"But despite our differences, we are a cohesive party with one goal: to respect the different reasons why we are neutral. There are hundreds of reasons to be neutral, and I have invited these members of the Neutral party," she gestured behind her at the group, "to give their reasons. After all, I cannot speak for everyone, nor would I wish to. Our reasons are personal, and some are even private, but we have found the courage to share them with you today so that you might understand why we claim neutrality in a time of political division. And maybe some of the reasons we give will resonate with you."

Isobel turned the page, took in a breath, and said, "My own reason for claiming Neutrality is due to my belief in pacificism. My family has strong Druidic roots. For those familiar with our traditions, you know that we pride ourselves on non-violence. As a pacifist, I believe Neutrality is my best option."

She stepped back and Anthony stepped up next.

"I believe in equality," he said. "However, I feel the Equality party, as represented by our fellow students, does not adequately address the current issues facing us today, namely the loss of wizarding culture and tradition. As such, Neutrality fits me best."

Justin Steel followed Anthony. "I don't like a lot of the extreme rhetoric I'm hearing from each side. It sort of scares me. I feel more comfortable with the Neutral group."

There was a small murmur after his statement. He'd clearly stuck a nerve with a lot of students.

Imani Okoro went next. "I wasn't raised in England. The politics I was raised with are very different from these ones. I'm not sure how my political beliefs match either group just yet and Neutrality gives me the chance to explore those differences."

Pansy stepped up after her. Both the Equality and Superiority groups glared at her, but she ignored them. "My family is well-known in the Ministry," she said. "Any politician who hopes to make changes in the government understands that they have to reach both sides of the aisle. This is the only way effective reforms can be made, and why I claim Neutrality."

As far as statements went, it was bland – which is exactly what it needed to be. The Equality students couldn't call her out for saying anything prejudiced, nor could the Superiority side claim she had betrayed her blood or family. She stepped aside for Darla Burgess.

"I'm Neutral because I'm young," she said. "I won't be seventeen for another two months. I'm not legally allowed to vote or Apparate or even do magic outside of school. And I feel young. I think I know what I believe, but when people try to convince me of their point of view, I begin to doubt myself. I feel overwhelmed and confused a lot. And that makes me feel stupid and I get mad at myself. I'm Neutral because I just don't know what I believe yet and I want a safe, quiet, respectful place to figure it out."

There was a good amount of muttering after her speech, and a few students even applauded, clearly feeling just as overwhelmed as her.

Nicolas Downing stepped up next. "I'm Neutral because I don't want to talk about politics. I don't like politics. I don't understand politics. I want to learn about plants and potions in class, I want to play Exploding Snap with my friends after dinner, and I want to play Quidditch on the weekends. I think I should be allowed to do that."

More muttering as he stepped away. And then Draco was next. He stepped up to the podium and heard a few gasps from the bleachers. He knew that his presence on the Neutral side was considered a joke. No one actually expected him to be neutral, or to speak for Neutrality. But he had to convince them it was all a joke now. His disguise relied on how well he could give his statement.

He looked over at the Superiority group, since they were the ones he'd need to convince, and leaned into the microphone. "Since the Neutrality party has claimed a spot at the debate, that means I no longer have to write an essay for this sham of a class. I will give my statement now, fully meeting the requirements set before me." He paused for a minute, for full impact, then said, "I'm Neutral because my political beliefs are private. It is illegal for anyone demand, coerce, blackmail, or otherwise intimidate another person to reveal their political beliefs." He turned to the head table. "I'm sure none of you will ask me any other questions, or you can be sure my solicitor will hear about this."

He stepped back from the podium and glanced at the other Neutral students. Pansy was smirking, Anthony looked like he was hiding back a laugh. Isobel rolled her eyes, but then gestured at the door.

'Just go,' she mouthed.

Draco did leave. He stepped down from the stage, walked past the Superiority table, and exited the side door. He paused outside and wondered at the stillness inside the Great Hall. Had no one realized what he'd just done? Didn't they realize he'd just given them an out?

He peered back into the hall just in time to see Simone erupt out of her stunned inaction. She leapt from her chair on the Superiority side and darted up to the Neutral podium.

"I claim Neutrality too," she said, "because my views are also private."

And then she followed Draco's path towards the door, glancing nervously at the head table as she exited. When none of the professors stopped her, she broke into a sprint.

Her exit sent the entire Great Hall into uproar. Half of the Superiority side lunged for the Neutral podium, all clamoring to give their statements as well.

"I also claim Neutrality," Eleanor Connelly said. "It's such a personal matter, don't you think?"

Daphne Greengrass took her place. "I'm neutral too, and it's really none of your business."

Millicent Bulstrode shoved past Tracey Davis to the microphone. "Neutral. And what everyone else said."

They all made for the exits as more Slytherins took to the stage to declare neutrality, and then it wasn't just Slytherin anymore, but other students poured down from the bleachers to give their statements. There were microphones on the other podiums, but the students seemed to think that their declarations of Neutrality would only count if they spoke from the neutral podium. They jostled each other in line, some cutting in front of others, all of them eager to announce that they were part of the Neutral group. Some of them simply parroted what Draco had said – that their beliefs were private. A few added on their own personal reasons.

"I don't think I know enough to decide just yet."

"I don't want to lose a relationship with my family."

"I would rather talk about this with my close friends, not the entire school."

Once they had given their statement, they scurried out of the Great Hall as quickly as possible, like they were afraid the professors were going to stop them. But none of the professors did. Draco watched the faculty sit back in their chairs, looking utterly helpless and unable to rein in the mutiny happening before them.

But there were some students who weren't eager to leave the debate – namely the Equality side and half of the Superiority group. Draco watched, with satisfaction, as the Golden Trio pulled in the Equality team for a quick huddle, all of them wondering what to do. Nott and Warrington, on Superiority, were more vocal in their anger.

"Get back here!" Nott shouted at every Slytherin who dared to claim neutrality. "You're betraying your own family, your own blood!"

The Slytherins didn't listen. They darted out the doors, passing by Draco as they headed back to the dorms. They nodded to him as they passed. Draco nodded back, pleased that they were acknowledging him as the architect of their freedom.

By the time half the school had exited the Great Hall, the professors finally conceded their loss. Dumbledore clapped his hands, calling for silence, and stood up from the table.

"I think it is rather obvious that this debate has been concluded. You may all return to your evening activities."

"But Headmaster," Hermione said, "we haven't given our statements."

"Neither have we!" Nott protested.

Draco watched, with great amusement, as both of them turned to look at each other, horrified that they were agreeing about something.

"We want to go first!" Nott said quickly.

"We could bring everyone back," Dumbledore agreed placidly. "What do you think? Should I gather all the students to return?"

"Yes!" Nott insisted. "Superiority demands to be heard!"

"Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked.

Hermione was smart enough to pick up on the social cues in front of her. The students didn't want a debate. Forcing them to stay would turn them against her. She stood up tall and announced, to the remaining students, "The Equality group recognizes that their fellow students have expressed their frustration with the format of this debate. We will honor their wish to cancel the debate." She gave Nott a dirty look. "We aren't going to force our beliefs on them."

She turned back to her group and nodded. They began to pack up.

Nott spluttered, trying to form a response, but Hermione had been first to concede, and therefore had won the public opinion. The Superiority group sunk down in their chairs, sullen and defeated, as the rest of the students began to exit the Great Hall.

It was a victory.

It was a resounding victory.

Draco pulled in a breath, realizing what he'd just managed, and allowed himself a startled, celebratory burst of laughter. He'd ended the debate. He'd given Slytherin a path away from the Death Eaters while protecting his own reputation. No one would think he'd done it for any other reason than to defy the professors and skip an essay.

But there was still more to be done. It wasn't enough to rejoice in his success; he needed to leverage it.

He headed down to the Slytherin Common Room. As he expected, it was full of students talking and laughing and reliving the moment. His entrance was met with cheers and applause. The older students came up to greet him personally.

"Impressive," Eleanor Connelly said.

"Absolutely brilliant," Millicent Bulstrode agreed. "Did you see the look on Dumbledore's face?"

"I thought McGonagall was going to have a heart attack," Tracey Davis added.

"And to think it wasn't even part of the official curriculum!" Daphne Greengrass exclaimed.

Draco accepted the praise and handshakes as he made his way to the fireplace. He pulled out his wand and cast a quick firework spell to get everyone's attention.

"Listen carefully," he said.

The room fell silent. The students crowded in towards him. Nott and his cronies hadn't made it back yet, but that was fine. They didn't need to be here.

Draco glanced around at the students. "As leader of Slytherin, I've been reluctant to give orders. I assumed you lot would be able to follow the tenants of Slytherin house without me holding your hands. Most of you have met that expectation, as low as it is. Others of you have not." He pinned a dark look on the students who were all too eager to follow Nott's bad example. "Some of you assume that your fellow housemates are acceptable targets for humiliation, degradation, and ostracization. Some of you have forgotten that we are all Slytherins. We have all been chosen to be in this great house founded by Salazar Slytherin himself. If he has deemed each of us worthy of representing his house, then we do not question that decision. We were chosen to represent his cunning, his ambition, and his power, and we do that best when we are united. Do you understand that?"

There was a chorus of "yes's" and "I understand's". Others nodded vigorously.

Draco continued. "Some of you have assumed that I have been unwilling to give orders because I don't have the power to enforce them. I believe that recent events have proven that assumption false." He gave them all a level look, and several students looked away, remembering how he had bested Nott and Warrington in the Common Room duel. "If it is required of me, I will exercise that power more liberally, and I will use it to enforce the one order I am charging you all with now: There is to be no more in-fighting in Slytherin house. Is that understood?"

The "yes's" were louder this time. And it wasn't because Draco had intimidated them or inspired them or convinced them. It was because he was saying what they had wanted the whole year. They wanted a unified house. They wanted to hang-out with their friends. They wanted to feel safe.

"Then go be great," Draco told them, repeating the common parting line for the house.

The students dispersed, eagerly reforming into their friend groups to chat, or heading off to the library to get some last-minute studying done. Draco sat down in his spot by the fireplace and watched it all for a few minutes. It felt good, to take in his victory, but it also felt lonely. No one really knew why he'd claimed Neutrality, why he risked so much to make it popular. He wanted to share the victory with someone who fully understood that he'd done it for his own freedom as well.

There was only one other person who knew.

Draco left the Common Room and headed up to the teacher's wing. Bill's office door was open, as Draco had been hoping, but there were voices inside. Draco peered in, just in time to see Claire hand Bill an essay.

But it wasn't an essay. It was just a glamour charm. As soon as Bill touched it, the paper morphed in a large brass key. The school Portkey Claire had gotten from McGonagall the other day.

Bill's eyes widened, and then latched onto Draco's, right before he and Claire were both whisked away.

Draco blinked at the empty room in front of him, his startled mind trying to desperately make sense of what he'd just seen.

OoOoO

"What an absolute disaster!" Pomona moaned in the teacher's lounge. She held out her teacup. Hooch poured another splash of whiskey into it.

"I have never seen such a display of rebellion," Minerva agreed, then paused, reconsidered, and said, "well, not directed at us certainly. They were rather organized against Umbridge."

"But she was odious," Flitwick said. "I hardly think a school-sponsored debate is worth a mutiny. We really should be taking points. At least from the ringleaders."

"Which include some of our best and brightest," Minerva reminded him, and then shook her head. "We'd set a terrible precedent. No, we have to let this one go and pretend it wasn't as shocking as it was. If they think they actually won something significant… well, we'll start having a mutiny every week."

The other teachers nodded. Bill sat back, sipping his own whiskey, and tried to hide his smile. It must not have worked because McGonagall turned to him with a frown.

"Why are you so pleased about it?"

The other teachers rounded on him. Bill took another sip of whiskey to buy himself a chance to think. He was pleased about the mutiny. He knew what it meant for Draco to have his success. The Slytherin house would relax. Politics wouldn't be as stringent. Draco wouldn't have to solve the issue of inner-house segregation on his own or duel his classmates to keep everyone safe. Some students might even be able to see a path away from the Death Eaters, even despite family pressure. It was an undeniable triumph, but he couldn't say any of that. Or rather, he had to leave any mention of Draco out of it.

"I was thinking of Blaise Zabini," Bill said instead.

"What about him?" Flitwick asked.

"He's been bullied in his house, as you all know. But now that Neutrality is 'cool', things will be easier for him."

The teachers fell silent, considering that side of the story.

Dumbledore spoke up. "You make a good point, Bill. It's even possible that this act of rebellion might provide some students a path away from Voldemort."

"You can't really think so," Minerva objected.

"Miss Parkinson is a shining example of it," Dumbledore said. "Her family has strong Death Eater sympathies, but they've stayed neutral due to their position in the government. If there is no room for the middle ground, her family will be swayed to Voldemort, and no doubt Miss Parkinson would be as well. When she spoke, it reminded me that we will never reach those minds who are firmly rooted in Pureblood supremacy. But we may be able to reach those on the outskirts, or those who are willing to 'reach across the aisle', as she said. Equality cannot reach Superiority. But it can reach Neutrality."

"Neutrality go co-opted with Draco Malfoy's stunt," McGonagall argued. "It's meaningless now. Students who believe in Pureblood superiority were claiming Neutrality just to get out of the debate."

"So they did," Dumbledore agreed. "But how many of those students were allowed to call themselves Neutral before? By giving them this breathing room, it may be enough to have them question their beliefs."

"Ever the optimist," McGonagall said.

"Not always," said Dumbledore. "But tonight… yes, tonight I am hopeful. I was wondering how to reach Slytherin, and it seems I didn't have to. In his attempt to avoid a little bit of work, Mr. Malfoy did it for me."

He chuckled a little at the thought of it. The other teachers didn't share his humor. They continued to console themselves with their drinks, and Bill took the opportunity to finish his drink and leave them to their pity-party. They didn't understand they were mourning the wrong thing. They didn't realize the sympathy they should have for students who were caught in impossible situations. They didn't realize they should be relieved the debate was canceled, like Bill was. Bill was genuinely relieved it was canceled, and not just because it indicated Draco's success, but because the idea of the debate had gone stale in his mind. Ever since he understood the true struggle of the Slytherin students, he'd realized how pointless the debate was. The students needed more than an opportunity to yell at each other. They needed safety and space and guidance.

He headed to his office, intent on getting a leg up on the work in front of him. He hadn't realized just how intense finals could be for the professors.

He'd just sat down when there was a knock on the open door. Bill looked up to see Claire step into his room, a piece of parchment in hand.

"Sorry to bother you," she said, "but I think I got one of your student's essays by mistake."

She crossed the room, and Bill half-stood from the desk to take it from her.

Behind her, in the doorway, Draco appeared, no doubt wanting to celebrate his successful mutiny. It was something Bill would be happy to do with him.

His hand closed on the paper. The parchment melted away under his grasp. She wasn't handing him an essay; she was handing him a large key. A school Portkey.

Something hooked behind Bill's stomach. His eyes glanced to Draco's, his own shock mirrored on Draco's face, and then space crushed around him. He felt the flash and tingle that meant he was passing through wards, at least two sets of them, and then he was dropped, stumbling to a cold, stone floor, not able to keep his balance.

Hands clapped. Slowly. Mockingly.

Bill picked his head up, somehow already knowing what he was going to see. A dimly lit basement room. A figure in dark robes stepping towards him, eyes glinting red, the long pale hands coming together in a singular round of applause.

Voldemort.

Bill scrambled to his feet, his hand reaching for his wand, but it wasn't there. It was on his desk, where he'd left it when Claire had handed him the Portkey. He turned to her. Claire's eyes were fastened on Voldemort. Her expression was one Bill had become intimately familiar with over the past year. Adoration.

Voldemort stepped closer, his robes trailing behind him like shadows and Claire sank to her knees, her head bowed respectfully. Bill took a desperate step backwards as the Dark Lord paused in front of her. One long, pale hand reached out and brushed her face.

"So, you have done what no one else could," Voldemort murmured. "You have discovered Dumbledore's spy and brought him to me."

Claire tipped her head up. "I would do more for you. You only have to ask. I am your servant to command and instruct. Anything you desire. Anything."

Her voice held the same inflection it always did. The inflection that had made Draco immediately suspicious of her. At the time, Bill had chalked it up to an accent or dialect difference. Now, he heard it for what it was. An affection. A slimy, oily affection for the Dark Lord, the sliding syllables and lilting vowels were all for him. Claire had been the spy, not Stevick, or rather, not just Stevick, and Bill hadn't seen it. Or hadn't wanted to see it, and now he was captured, in the presence of Voldemort, and in very real danger and –

He moved without thinking, knowing that hesitation was deadly and his thoughts could be read. Claire was on the ground in front of him, her wand was tucked into her jacket pocket. Bill lunged for it. His hand closed around it and then –

He was flung backwards, into the wall. His back and head snapped against it. Stars burst in his vision as he crumpled to the ground. He tried pushing himself up, wanting to run, to flee, to getaway, but an invisible force snapped tight around him. It grasped his limbs, locked his joints, and seized his muscles. He struggled against it, but it held tight. Only his eyes were free to move, darting to Voldemort in terror. The Dark Lord had his wand out and pointed at him. He flicked his wand, a lazy motion that wasn't real spellcasting, but Bill flew towards him regardless, his twisted body fully suspended in the air.

"You aren't trying to leave already, are you?" Voldemort asked. "You have been an unseen guest of my meetings for so long, it's only right that we should host you properly this time."

Bill tried to deny it, tried to protest his innocence, but nothing but a feeble grunt escaped his lips. Voldemort tipped his wand and Bill was dropped to the floor, still frozen in his awkward position. His cheek and elbow landed first, then his knees and side. Another grunt escaped him, this one of pain.

Voldemort stepped around him, the ends of his robe brushing against his face and Bill wanted to flinch back, but his body wasn't his own.

The Dark Lord turned to Claire. "Send in the others."

Bill couldn't turn his head to watch, but he heard her footsteps on the floor and then a door opening.

"Who are you?" someone asked – Nott, Sr, if Bill was correct.

"A servant of the Dark Lord, like yourselves," Claire returned easily. "He asks that you join him."

Bill heard footsteps behind him, about a dozen of them, meaning Voldemort had sent for his inner circle. He heard them mutter to each other as they saw him, an unseen chorus of whispers and hisses.

"Who's this?" Nott asked. "And who's she?"

"This," said Voldemort, flicking his wand, "is Dumbledore's spy."

A spasm of pain licked down Bill's spine. He strangled out a scream. His body shook against the invisible binds that kept it locked.

"And she," Voldemort said, his feet stepping outside of Bill's view, "is my newest servant. And based on her current performance, one might say my most competent servant."

Bill heard the rustle of robes and a soft footfall closer. Lucius Malfoy spoke up, "Any recruit that serves you well is indeed a boon. But, if I may inquire, why was she kept secret from those of us who could have aided her endeavors?"

Voldemort laughed, a harsh, chilling sound. "You, of all people, know my reasons for secrecy. You know how my secrets continue to worm their way into Dumbledore's ears. The solution was simple: I needed a spy who was loyal to me, and me alone. And wouldn't you say my instinct was correct?"

There was a rumble of hasty agreement from the other Death Eaters, and somewhere in their assertions, the spell that locked his body was dropped. Bill sagged onto the ground, limp with relief. He pulled in a few breaths, then tried to push himself up. A foot stepped on the back of his neck and shoved him back into the floor.

"Not so fast," Voldemort hissed. "We've only just begun to enjoy your company. Since my followers have failed to identify you as the bothersome fly on the wall, it is only fair that I give them a chance to redeem themselves."

Bill stilled on the ground as the reality of his situation began to seep in, just like the cold of the stone floor seeped into his body. He was going to be tortured for information. His heart stumbled over a beat; his stomach twisted.

Voldemort's foot pressed down harder on the back of his neck as Voldemort addressed his Death Eaters. "The instruction is simple. I want to know everything he knows. I don't care how you do it, but I demand you extract every piece of information from every corner of his mind. You have three days. Is that understood?"

"Yes, milord," the Death Eaters promised, voices overlapping.

"Good," said Voldemort. He stepped off Bill and turned to Claire. "Come with me, child. You shall tell me all you learned during your time with Dumbledore and then you shall be rewarded."

"I will follow you anywhere," Claire said.

Voldemort swept out of the room, Claire trailing after him. The Death Eaters bowed low as he exited. The door closed behind him. The Death Eaters turned, as one, towards Bill.

They wore their black robes, hoods raised and ornate masks over their faces. They stepped closer to him and Bill scrambled backwards, panic shooting through him, and then the first curse was cast.

"Crucio!"

Bill didn't have time to identify the voice. Fire erupted in his veins and he collapsed onto the stone floor, screaming at the agony that seized him. It was too much; it was overwhelming, overpowering. He couldn't think; he couldn't breathe.

The spell ended. Bill gasped in a breath, feeling tears sting at the corner of his eyes, and it wasn't just tears from the pain, it was from the knowledge of what was to come. Voldemort had given his Death Eaters three days to torture him, and Bill knew the faces under those masks. Three days with the crazed, unpredictable, sadistic Bellatrix. Three days with the bullying, malicious Nott Sr, backed up by Crabbe and Goyle. Three days with the vicious, vile Carrows and the towering Macnair and the monstrous Greyback. Three days with the cold, tactical genius of Lucius Malfoy. Three days – if Severus couldn't get him out sooner.

Bill's eyes flitted over the figures that were gathered. A new terror overtook him when he couldn't recognize Snape's slim figure among them.

Bellatrix stepped forward, her tangle of dark hair spilling from behind her mask. "Crucio!"

The spell hit – stronger than the first. The pain didn't wash over him, it bubbled up from inside of him. Bill screamed, his body writhing on the floor as he tried to escape the agony. She held the spell, for seconds or minutes or hours, he wasn't sure, but when it finally ended, he sobbed in relief. He tried to think past the pain, he truly did, but his brain was as limp as his body.

From the back of the Death Eaters, Lucius spoke, his voice bored and disinterested. "There are potions that would make this easier. Where is our Potions Master anyway?"

"You always hated getting your hands dirty," Bellatrix responded, and then she cast another spell.

A flash of fire cut across his chest. Blood sprayed. A lashing hex. He curled up over himself as he waited for the answer to Lucius question. Where was Severus? Was he going to be summoned? Was someone going to tell him that Bill had been captured?

"He wasn't called," Nott said. "You know what that means. He's still not trusted."

Bellatrix cast another lashing hex. This one caught Bill on the side. He yelped, his hands flying to the wound.

"I think Snape left potions here last time," Goyle said to Malfoy.

"Names, you idiot!" Nott hissed.

Lucius sighed. "He already knows our names, or did you miss the fact that he's been spying on us. He's seen our faces too."

"I could gouge his eyes out, if it'd make you feel better," Bellatrix said.

She started towards Bill, and he couldn't help but recoil at the thought of it. He'd know that his spying job could get him killed, but for some reason he'd never considered a permanent injury or being maimed. He thought he might be sick.

He was saved by an unlikely source. Lucius stepped forward and caught Bellatrix's wrist. "I trust you can break his mind without a gratuitous amount of violence?"

She turned to Lucius. Their masks hid their expressions but there seemed to be an unspoken standoff between them.

"This is the Weasley's eldest son," Lucius said. His voice was stern and cold. "That name is as ancient as your own. While it is permissible, in wartime, to execute a spy, other heinous acts are to be used sparingly. We do not want the same public relations crisis you caused during the Longbottom fiasco, do we?"

She snarled at him. "You've gone soft, Lucius."

"Hardly, but someone needs to think of our reputation. I suppose that falls to me." He stepped back and turned to the other Death Eaters. "No permanent injuries, not yet at least."

The other Death Eaters scoffed but didn't outright debate him. Lucius gave a brief nod and then swept out of the room. Bill wondered where he was going. To get the potions he'd alluded to? To talk with Voldemort about the best way to kill him?

"Alright, blood traitor," Nott snarled, pointing his wand back at him. "Let's see how long it takes until you beg for mercy."

The curses descended, and Bill screamed, and wondered how long it would be until he begged? How long until he broke? Could he last until someone noticed he was missing?

And then – in the midst of his body shrieking in pain – he felt a sudden burst of hope.

Someone did know he was missing. Someone knew he had been taken.

Draco had seen him be Portkeyed away.

Another Cruciatus hit. Bill didn't fight the pain.

He just had to hold on until Draco sent for help.

OoOoO

Author's note: So, bit of a change in this chapter. I pulled the entire debate into this chapter, instead of having it the next chapter. Because I made the debate and the Neutral Party a big part of the story, it needed to have its own climax. And, in some ways, Bill getting captured is not the climax of the story. Draco's emotional arc is the true climax – him learning to trust Bill, him developing the Neutral party, him taking action in the ghoul attack – are all leading to the moment in this chapter: when he trusts the Neutral party and successfully leads the mutiny at school. However, in lots of action-adventure stories, the action-climax comes at the very end. Which will be Bill's capture and Draco's rescue in the next chapter. Which I actually may be able to squish into one chapter, since these chapters are getting looonnngg, lol!

Next update may be a while as I am finishing up an original writing project. But once that's out of the way, I'll be free to close out the Code.