Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  Warner Brother's bought me out.

All that week, Harry had been looking forward to the weekend.  Whether it was Snape's caustic remarks in potions, Trelawney's grim predictions in Divination, or even the occasional looks of pity from the Gryffindors after they left Charms, Harry was ready for a break.

Yet, when Saturday rolled around, Harry found the weekend just as dissatisfying.  By Sunday evening, he was pacing the dorms and commons, trying to think of something to do.  Ginny and Ron were busy playing chess and Hermione was off in the library again – Harry was unsure which group he'd rather avoid: two sour Weasleys or two thousand dusty tomes.  It was a close call.

But it wasn't even quite dark yet – he still had awhile before he had to report to the Entrance hall for yet another mopping duty.  What to do until then?  He decided he might as well go for a walk around the grounds.  He quickly got his jumper and put it on under his thick cloak.  It wasn't near as cold or windy as it was during the match with Hufflepuff, but he still didn't want to be on the opposite side of the grounds and have the cold catch up with him.

Harry, once prepared for the weather, set out and managed to catch the last glimpse of the winter sunset, and spent a few minutes gazing at it.  Yet the son was soon gone, and the grassy fields were bathed in a soft glow of dusk.  Harry was a little amazed.  It was December, yet they hadn't had a lasting snow yet.

As he walked down the brick path between the Castle's north end to the Herbology greenhouses, Harry wondered about the Slytherin quidditch team.  For some odd reason, the Slytherin team declined to hold practices on Sunday evenings, or on Sunday afternoons for that matter.  Harry was slightly curious about it - it wasn't like Draco to refrain from making more work for Harry.  But before he could come up with any ideas, he noticed a bright glow lighting the air around the Quidditch field.  Curious, Harry walked over the hill to the north and saw a large gathering on the pitch, which was lit by several points of bright light from above.

However, as Harry walked down to see what was going on, the group disbanded, apparently done for the night.  One of them pointed their wand at the sky and the bright lights illuminating the field vanished.  Harry toyed with asking one of the students what they were doing, but decided he could do it next Sunday.  At least he found out where the Slytherins all went on Sundays, as well as why they didn't hold Quidditch practices on that day.

Harry waited patiently on the Quidditch pitch for his meeting with Clive the next day.  His pupil had been still been performing poorly, and Harry was almost sure that it wasn't a problem with ability.  He'd know for sure after this session, and smiled to himself.  Clive trudged up the gently sloping hill to the pitch, and Harry called out, "Glad you could make it!"

Clive muttered under his breath, but Harry's smile didn't waver.  "I've got a surprise," Harry said, grinning even wider.

Clive eyed him mutely, and Harry pulled something out from his robes.

"Hey!  That's my picture!" Clive yelled, seeing what Harry had in his hands.

"It's a nice one," Harry commented.  He had asked for Frank Dvorak – one of Clive's first year friends - to help him out and swipe something of Clive's that he was attached to.  Apparently Frank chose well, judging by Clive's expression now.  "It looks like a good reunion.  Are all these people in your family?"

"Yes!" Clive said, reaching for his photo.  Harry, however, pulled out his wand and suddenly the picture started flying about the pitch, a meter or so off the ground.

"Stop it," Clive demanded, but Harry smiled.

"I'm tired of these lessons," Harry said, "where you don't even try.  So we're doing something a little different now.  If you want the picture back, you'll just have to catch it."

Just as Harry expected, Clive chose against the broom and tried his wand.  Harry was somewhat impressed, as the first year had a decent Leviosa spell under his belt - but he couldn't match a 5th year student by a long shot.  Clive growled and ran after the picture.  However, after a few minutes of futile sprinting, he angrily stomped back to Harry.  Harry, wearing a smile, handed Clive his broomstick.

Clive set off on the broomstick, flying hesitantly toward the picture.  It was quite clear, though, that he'd never catch it at the slow crawl he usually flew at.  Slightly panicked, Clive flew faster.  Yet when he managed to come within several meters of the picture, it changed direction, and Clive let out a worried yelp.  Harry was a touch worried as well - he had never seen him do a turn yet.  Clive gripped the broomstick tightly and managed to do a wide awkward turn and aim his broomstick back around at the picture.

Within 15 minutes, Clive was looking much better, although he still didn't manage to catch the photo.  He was flying nearly as fast as the picture (which actually somewhat surprised Harry), but his turns were still somewhat clumsy and he usually had to restart his pursuit when the picture changed direction.

All the fear seemed to have finally left Clive, and he was flying the school's Shooting Star at its fastest, actually managing to ride faster than the picture.  Even after the photo turned a few times around the pitch, Clive was still on its tail, and Harry snapped a quick photograph.  Sure enough, less than a minute later, Clive managed to finally catch the photograph.  As soon as his hand closed on the oak frame, Clive suddenly realized that he was flying very fast with only one hand on the broom and let out a high-pitched scream.  He panicked and slowed his broom down abruptly, almost flying off the front.  After getting the broom to the usual crawl, he awkwardly flew his way back to Harry.

"Good job," Harry congratulated Clive, who was looking very angrily at him.  "I've got a present for you."  Harry pulled the finished photo from the back of the camera and conjured a frame for it.  Clive's face split into a grin as he saw himself zooming all over the Quidditch pitch, actually looking like he knew how to fly.  "I'll see you next week," Harry said with a grin, and quickly left the pitch before Clive could change his mood.

The next day at breakfast, Harry looked up from his marmalade at the strangled cry Ron made.  The redhead was reading the Daily Prophet, and Harry looked around the hall for confirmation.  Sure enough, a lot of people were reading the parchment their owls had just brought and were also looking slightly panicked.  Harry turned back around and looked at Hermione.

Hermione didn't appear anxious, but rather was deep in thought.  She absently handed Harry the paper, which he quickly read.

MINISTRY ATTACKED

Death Eaters attacked the English Ministry of Magic in London yesterday morning at 9:34.  The attack seemed to focus around the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts department and the Magical Archive annex on the south end of the compound, where approximately 40 of the black-robed wizards attempted entry.  However, the alarm was quickly sounded by the staff, and aurors arrived shortly and gave battle.  Fortunately, everyone has been accounted for, although sections of the archive are in disarray and the aurors were unable to apprehend any of the death eaters.  Arthur Weasley, a ministry official for the Misuse department was able to comment on the affair.

"It was quite horrible," a dissheveled Mr. Weasley commented.  "Fortunately no one was hurt, and the damage was actually quite light considering their numbers."

Still, most agree that the ministry was fortunate on the results.  It is yet to be seen whether Minister Fudge will bolster security due to the recent string of muggle attacks or address the rumors that Voldemort has risen again.

Harry set the paper down on the table and looked at Hermione.  "Any ideas?"

Hermione sat another moment, clearly sifting over what happened.  "It doesn't seem right.  I can't imagine the death eaters would've tried to attack the ministry, and yet fail to kill anyone.  Especially with 40 of them."

"But they failed - they were pushed off by the aurors," Harry pointed out.

"I don't know," Hermione replied slowly.  "It looks to me they found what they were looking for, and simply left."

---

My brain is fried from my Scheme Programming test.  Scheme is the worst language in the world.  You can't do 1+2+3+4+5, you have (+ (+1 2) (+ 3 (+ 4 5)))  So if this chapter doesn't make any sense, you now know why.

Penda: Heh, yeah, I love Allison's character.  I might bring her in for a few more scenes.  I tried to make it so that both Harry and Ron are both wrong and right (you could make a case for either one).  I realize I'm not putting any interaction between Hermione and Ron, but it's mostly because Harry wouldn't witness it.  Once Harry and Ron stop fighting, Harry will be able to see the two interact.  I really like how your review starts with Veela charms, and ends with you trying to charm me into explaining the mopping.  All will be explained, eventually (hopefully)

Tima: Thanks!  You can plan on updates Sunday/Tuesday/Thursday, although there may be a few hiccups.

Phoenix Flight: Yep, the points were for the homework, but nobody besides Harry and the professors know that.

Erinamation:  Oh?

Sherman: I realize you really don't like the fight, but I'm trying not to dwell on it a lot.  To be honest, I like the idea, but I think I might have started it a bit too early.  The whole 'issue' will be over in a few chapters…

Katani: Hehe.  The points were for the homework.  I guess I didn't make it too clear, but I'm planning on writing more about it later.

Chaser: Thanks!

Olivia: Thanks!  But don't get your hopes too high for Harry and Hermione.  The dance chapter should only be couple chapters away.  Hehe, at this rate, the story's going to end up 30 chapters long!

Feel free to review