A/N: First let me give my usual thanks to everyone who has been reading, and especially to the reviewers. And I know this has nothing to do with the story, but I was recently confronted with a common linguistic error: People using the word 'stupid' when they mean 'ignorant' and vice versa. When I tried to correct someone (I should have been an English teacher) he asked, "what's the difference?" I shall now relate to you how I explained it to him.

I have a friend who lives just over the mountains, a beautiful place with a lot of land stretching toward the river. Owing him several favors, I came up one weekend to help him build a new deck on the back of his house. He had it all laid out and the foundation was set. All we had to do was put the wood in place and nail it down.

The deck was beautiful when it was done, some ten hours later. And a dozen of us were sweating from all the work. Half was covered while the other half was left open because ithad the barbecue pit (already built). A nice large deck. And because it was getting dark, my friend turned on the lights (hastily hung - that was the project for the following weekend) as well as two of those bug zappers, the kind with the glowing blue wires.

It was then that my friend's brother finally arrived to help. He had a beer in his hand and it was obvious it wasn't his first. He mumbled some half-hearted apologizes and then he stopped to stare. In all his life, he had never seen a bug zapper. He walked up to it and, curiosity taking hold of him, reached up with his hand and touched one of those glowing blue wires. That was IGNORANCE.

STUPIDITY was when he touched it the second time.

Chapter Ten: A Series of Events

The rest of the week passed in its usual way. One day at a time. Hermione talked Draco into taking Arithmancy. Her logic was that you could learn all you needed to know by reading books and was therefore fun. Draco's logic was that if he had any problems he could always ask Hermione for help.

But the week was not all fun. The scowls and frowns were still there. Draco's actions of the previous year, and the year before that, did little to convince everyone that the original stories about him were false. Many believed he was 'true to his roots'. He even overheard a Ravenclaw explaining to some first years that the Ministry was letting the 'Boy-Who-Lived' come into his power so he could fight You-Know-Who, should he return. Then the Aurors would move in and take care of whoever was left. The Ravenclaws, as a group, did not trust him. Nor did the Slytherins, it seemed. After the first class of Potions, Crabbe and Goyle confronted him in the hallway.

"We heard you tricked Casper Lestrange," Goyle told him as a small crowd formed around them. "He should have gone to Slytherin." Goyle emphasized his words by poking Draco in the shoulder with his finger after each word. When Hermione began to say something, Crabbe made a fist.

"Have you ever met Casper?" Draco drawled, trying to be as casual as possible. "You should probably thank me."

"Thank you?" Goyle laughed menacingly. "I'll show you my thanks."

"As will I," a new voice said. All turned to see Simon Nott standing there with his brother. "I have met Cousin Casper too many times for my liking." He made his way through the gathered students and held out his hand. "Thank you for relieving us, not only myself and my brother but all of Slytherin, from having to deal with that spoiled brat on a daily basis."

Crabbe and Goyle looked surprised. Simon smirked. "Seriously. He is that annoying. Draco did help us with his little trick."

This time, Goyle hit Draco's shoulder with his fist. "That was a good idea. Thanks, Draco."

"Just glad we're still friends," Draco said as he rubbed his shoulder. "Truth is, he's friends with one of the Potter's. I was afraid he'd get into Gryffindor."

Simon gave a laugh which Draco thought sounded real. "That's twice as many people who are grateful. Thanks, again, cousin. If I can ever return the favour, let me know."

Draco gave him his best smile. "Just remember. We need to get together, soon. To discuss certain matters."

Simon returned the smile. "I'll get back to you about a place and time. After the Quidditch tryouts, though. I plan to be a chaser this year, and I need to practice. But it will be soon."

Everyone left with smiles on their faces. Except for Theodore Nott, who never seemed to smile at anything unless he forced himself. Hermione wanted to know what they were going to discuss, and Draco explained as the walked back to Gryffindor. Simon had an idea about who was trying to kill him, and wanted to talk to him, in private, about a plan to uncover the potential murderer. He added that he was sure Simon already had a plan in mind.

Wednesday was exciting in its own way. Draco went to his first class in Arithmancy. Professor Vector, the teacher, gave him a polite smile but absolutely beamed when Hermione followed him into the room. She pointed the two of them to their seats and began her lecture with what appeared to be a repeat of the first lesson: what to expect from this class. Draco saw a familiar face near the front. Justin was here as well. The class started in earnest with a listing of the numbers and their basic meanings. This was followed by an outline of the most basic form of arithmancy, determining the numbers of names. The homework was very simple. Each person in the class would analyze their own names.

For Draco it wasn't that simple. He explained it to Hermione as they sat in the library.

"Why not?" Hermione asked as she began her homework.

"You've always had the same name, right?"

"I was born with it, Silly."

"I did't . . . didn't. I wasn't always Draco Malfoy. I used to be Atkins. And before that, I din't even have a last name. I was only Draco. Givens named me Atkins."

"After Tommy Atkins?" Justin asked as he walked up. He pointed to another table, where William Potter and Casper Black were sitting, pouring over some book together. Justin explained he was their official escort, to make sure they didn't get lost. He looked at their homework as he sat his own books down. Hermione told him what they were discussing and Justin nodded. He then suggested that Draco try all three names. It could be interesting.

"Just the numbers," Hermione added. "Then you can decide what to write about. Besides, now you've made me curious, so if you don't do it, I'll have to."

And Draco did just that. It was a simple chart to make. A equaled one, B equaled two, and so on. Once you reached nine, you started again with one. So D-R-A-C-O- M-A-L-F-O-Y became 4-9-1-3-6-4-1-3-6-6-7. Added together they equaled 50. 5 + 0 5. That was the value for his name. D-R-A-C-O-A-T-K-I-N-S became 4-9-1-3-6-1-2-2-9-5-1 which added to 43. 4 + 3

7. Lastly D-R-A-C-O became 4-9-1-3-6 which equaled 23 and 2 + 3 5 . Hermione was already consulting the book for the general meanings.

"You can see by my chart," she explained, "That I'm a four."

"As am I," Justin added, giving her his best smile, which Hermione returned.

"Fours are practical and reliable."

"And organized, as you can tell," Justin smiled again. "So, Hermione, why didn't the hat put you in Hufflepuff?"

"The same reason it didn't put me into Ravenclaw. Someone has to keep an eye on Draco."

Draco scowled, but couldn't make it last. "Thanks, 'mione. Now explain me."

"You're a five. You started out as a five, became a seven, then went back to being a five." She began reading. "Fives are . . . creative. And Sevens are" she gave Draco an encouraging smile. "Sevens are creative and imaginative"

"And fives are? Honestly?" Draco asked. "You've the text in front of you. Or I could open my own book."

"I'll tell him, Hermione," Justin offered. "It's simple, Draco. Seven is a lucky number. Everyone who is a seven is an exceptional person, or can be. But fives, they're like wild cards. They can be anything. Their most notable feature IS that they can be anything."

Draco nodded. It was funny, but it seemed to fit his life. Why else would the Dursleys have kept him locked up. Because he was capable of doing anything. Then he became Draco Atkins and moved to Paradise. There were always new things to learn, he had friends, he could do whatever he wanted and be whomever he wanted to be. Then he became Draco Malfoy. And everyone was treating him with kid gloves because they didn't know what to expect from him. With those thoughts in mind, he began writing.

"Draco?" Hermione's voice showed concern.

"I only going to write about who I am now." An impish grin landed on his face. "How do you spell abomination?"

"We still have to do our heart numbers and social numbers. You know, add the vowels for your heart number, then the consonants for your social number."

Justin nodded. "My heart number is a four, and my social number is nine."

Hermione looked up. "Mine are the same. That means our inner selves, our hearts, are identical to our characters. What are the chances that we would match exactly?"

Draco frowned. His heart number was a five. That meant that his inner self and his character also matched. But his social number, which represented how he portrayed him self, was also a nine. He asked Hermione what that meant.

"Nines are achievers. They inspire others and are very determined."

"Describes me," Justin said smoothly.

"Doesn't seem to fit me though," Draco noted.

"See, here," Hermione pointed to the last line. "They can also be arrogant and conceited."

Draco smiled. "I like that."

Hermione frowned. "We did it wrong. I forgot to include my middle name, Jane." As Hermione began to rework her chart, Draco smiled and pointed out that he didn't have a middle name so his work was done. Justin was also frowning. Draco asked with a smirk if he had a middle name. Justin held up two fingers.

"There, I'm actually a seven," Hermione said shortly. "My heart is a one and," her voice rose happily, "my character is a six. I am perfect after all."

Justin was still working on his chart. Finished, he smiled at Hermione. "I would like to announce that Justin Joseph Janus Finch-Fletchley is also a seven, and a one, and a six. We still match."

Draco sighed. He hated perfect people and now two of them were his friends. "It's all rubbish, you know."

Hermione ignored him and turned to Justin. "How did you get a name like Janus?"

"It's Friday," Draco grumbled.

Hermione didn't care. "And I need to practice for Quidditch." She smiled knowingly. "I thought you would like to help me. There's still over an hour until dinner, but . . . if you don't like flying."

"They'll let me use a broom?"

"You're a third year. Only first years aren't allowed. And anyone who's eligible can borrow a broom to practice Quidditch."

Draco's mood changed at once. The thought of flying was enough. He followed Hermione from the common room all the way to the pitch. The Gryffindors had reserved the field and the team members, and hopefuls, were already there when they arrived.

Hermione was serious about having help. Looking around, Draco noticed the other team members had friends to help them practice their skills. He had to laugh at one scene. The Weasley twins had convinced Colin Creevey to be their helper. As he desperately tried to fly around, a bludger would constantly cross his path as Fred and George expertly hit it to and fro.

Mounting the broom he borrowed, Draco followed Hermione's instruction and tried to fly after her as though she had the quaffle. In truth, he tried to follow her as she worked her way around the pitch. Flying was harder, and better, than he remembered.

A bludger crossed his path. Draco swerved out of its way, trying to keep sight of Hermione. Something caught the corner of his eye and he turned to look. Fred (or George) was racing for the bludger with his club raised. He made contact and the ball raced in a new direction. Draco swerved again. Hermione was forgotten. He was now trying to find out what happened to Colin. A quick turn to avoid the bludger another time turned Draco toward the ground where he saw a small mousy haired boy landing his broom and wiping his forehead in relief.

Draco pulled his broom upward and tried to climb. But now he was on the alert. He made sure he was facing one of the twins and luck was on his side. It was the twin about to hit the bludger. It came racing, like the others, not toward him but to where he would end up if he didn't change his course. And Draco remembered one thing about bludgers. They would follow someone if they were close enough. He waited until it was close, then swerved out of its way. As he hoped, the bludger turned just enough in trying to follow its prey, resulting in the other twin having to race after it.

He wasn't the only one to smile. The twin, Draco decided it was George, was also grinning. The game was now a challenge. He connected with his club and the bludger headed toward Draco again. Draco tried his trick again, trying to influence the direction of the ball, but not with the success of the first time. The next time, he did better. The time after that, nothing. There were a dozen more tries, with the twins racing through the air several times, when Draco did his best move. He was climbing to gain height and the bludger was underneath him. He waited as long as he could then did a barrel roll. The ball kept heading upward.

Draco leveled his broom and turned to Fred, thinking the twin would fly after the bludger, but Fred sat on his broom, grinning. This piqued Draco's curiosity and he turned to look for George.

CRACK.

Close enough to Draco's head that he could feel the air from the blow, George has hit the bludger that Draco had forgotten about. This time not at him, but away. Draco gave him an impish grin of thanks as he remembered. What goes up must come down.

Practice ended on that note. Madam Hooch blew her whistle. There was barely enough time to get back to Gryffindor and change for dinner.

"Much better than the other one," Fred was telling Angelina Johnson. "He knows how to play."

Hermione nudged Draco as they walked back, to make sure he heard. "You know, Angelina says I might make it as a chaser. The team will need a Seeker."

"Yeah, and Potter was there with Longbottom, making sure it'll be him." Draco sighed. "I had a great time, but I'm too out of practice. Every bone in my body aches after only one hour."

"Think about it," Hermione insisted.

Draco thought about it. He also thought about going to bed but he was too hungry. And there was still one more minor event. As Draco and Hermione neared the staircase to the ground floor, they met the headmaster.

"Mister Malfoy, a brief word, if I may." Dumbledore smiled as both Gryffindors stopped. "I have made my final decision concerning Walburga Black's portrait. Several students have complained about her shrill screeching, I believe that was the most frequent term used. On the other hand, our caretaker, Argus Filch, personally told me she was a wonderful addition. It seems she has made herself the arbiter of decorum for anyone who traverses that particular hallway."

Before Draco could say anything, Hermione explained, "She yells at anyone walking down that hallway who isn't following the rules picture perfect."

Draco looked up. "She can stay?"

Dumbledore nodded his head, then urged the two to continue to the Great Hall. Draco hesitated, then called, "Kreacher." When the house elf appeared, Draco passed on the news. Kreacher smiled, saying he was happy Mistress had a new home. He then begged to go back to the kitchens as there was much work to do, and promptly disappeared again.

Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up. Dumbledore pointed to the stairs. "Time to eat."

"Yes, Professor." Draco followed Hermione down the stairs and into the hall. It had been a wonderful week. And it wasn't over, yet.

"Hagrid," Draco said suddenly. The week wasn't ending wonderfully after all. "I forgot about Hagrid. 'mione, I was supposed to see him. It's Friday."

He looked to see Hagrid at the main table. The giant was talking to Professor Lestrange. He was making waving motions with one hand while waving the other hand back and forth in front of it. Then he looked up, pointed at Draco, and waved. The boy waved back as he understood. He had not seen Hagrid but Hagrid had seen him, at the pitch. Nor was Hagrid mad at him or hurt. Quidditch was the one excuse he would always forgive. Draco waved back. The week had returned to being wonderful. By chance, he turned to look at the entrance when his eyes met those of Argus Filch. Filch smiled at him. Draco sat down.

"'mione, I made a new friend."