Hermione was in a sour mood. Dumbledore had all but promised her that he would be bringing Harry to the Burrow as soon as he could, but it had already been a week since her conversation with the elder wizard and she had still not received any word of his plans or Harry's well being. Is he being isolated again? Did anybody besides her even care? It was beyond frustrating and Hermione found herself growing impatient as each day went by.

It was almost dusk and Hermione found herself pacing the sitting room, her thoughts consumed with the situation of her absent friend and his continued isolation. Her conversation with Ron about whether or not she fancied Harry still rang in her mind. Did she fancy him? Or was it something else, some sort of longing she couldn't explain? The more she thought about it, the less sure she became and she decided it was probably best if she just kept her thoughts to herself, especially in front of Ron who would be sure to make a scene.

"Hey, Hermione." Ginny's voice startled her, bringing her back to the present. "What are you thinking about? You look so serious."

"Nothing," she answered quickly, trying her best to look unbothered, but Ginny gave her a look of doubt and she knew that the redheaded girl had seen right through her. "It's about Harry," she sighed.

"What about him? Are you worried about him or something?"

"Well... yes. It's just that..." Hermione hesitated for a moment, but decided she needed to get some things off of her chest before they became too heavy, "He's my best friend and I don't even know what he's up to, what he's doing. I don't even know if he's safe, or if he needs me. I haven't been able to speak to him, or see him. And I think it's driving me mad."

"Maybe you need to speak to Dumbledore? Have you asked him what he knows?" Ginny said, giving Hermione an understanding look.

"I did. Well, I spoke to him the night I came back from Grimmauld." Hermione let out a frustrated sigh, "but he didn't really give me any clear answers."

"Maybe he'll let you go and visit Harry." Ginny suggested. "You could try asking him again. Or maybe Ron and I could ask him with you."

"No, no. Its fine." Hermione shook her head. Not wanting to talk to Ron about anything regarding Harry at that time. She knew Dumbledore had his reasons for keeping Harry hidden from the rest of them, but the lack of information was becoming unbearable.

"He did say Harry would come here eventually so he won't be kept isolated forever," Ginny reassured Hermione. "I think we'll just have to be patient."

"Yeah, I guess you're right." Hermione agreed, though she was far from feeling confident. She wished there was some way to get in contact with Harry, some way to find out where he was, and what was happening. But, until Dumbledore or someone from the Order of the Phoenix gave her any updates, she was in the dark, and she didn't like it.

"Hey, Ginny?" Hermione said, "Does your brother fancy me?"

Ginny gave her an odd look.

"Actually, now that you mention it, he's been bothering me a lot lately about you. Keeps asking me what you think of him. Why?"

"Nothing really." Hermione replied, "Its just, we had an argument the other day and he wouldn't stop asking me about whether or not I fancied Harry. Than he said some nonsense about being with someone else, someone like him. It was rather odd."

"Oh, really? I've noticed Ron has been acting weird too, actually," Ginny said, thinking back on the last couple of days, "He's been a little too eager to help me out lately."

"Help you?"

"Yeah, like taking out the rubbish and making breakfast." Ginny explained, "Normally he never does that."

Hermione had a bad feeling in her stomach, she hoped she wasn't being too critical of her friend. "That is... a little bit strange, now that I think about it."

Ginny raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "I just thought he was trying to avoid you or something."

Hermione didn't know what to think, Ron had been acting quite different, and a bit strange lately, but it had always seemed like a positive change. The whole situation just kept getting stranger and stranger and she couldn't make heads or tails of it.

"But, he is my brother," Ginny said. "He probably just wanted to make me happy. Maybe he feels like he owes me something?"

"I don't know." Hermione sighed, "But I hope we can settle... whatever this thing is between us. It would be nice for things to go back to the way they were before this summer."

"Maybe you should just talk to him," Ginny offered.

"Yeah, maybe."

A moment of silence fell over the pair, the only sounds the creaking of the Burrow's walls and the chirping of crickets in the grass. Hermione leaned against the windowsill, looking out towards the tree-line where Harry and Ron emerged from not so long ago, looking like the closest of friends.

"Oh!" Ginny exclaimed, suddenly remembering something. "Did I tell you? The boys were up all night planning a prank on Fred. Apparently he did something to George's hair dye and George didn't even notice it until after they left." Ginny said excitedly, "And it looked hilarious."

The Burrow's open fields stretched out beneath Ron as he soared through the azure sky on his broomstick. The wind whipped through his hair as he lost himself in his thoughts. His conversation with Hermione had left a nagging restlessness in his mind.

His grip on the broom handle tightened as he mulled over Hermione's elusive words. What was it about Harry that made her so protective, so devoted? He'd always thought of them as friends, but lately, it felt like there was something more, something unspoken between them. Did she have feelings for Harry that she wasn't sharing with anyone, not even him?

He thought about his conversations with Bill about the night Hermione returned in a frenzy after her visit from Grimmauld Place, shouting at everyone and accusing them of mistreating Harry or this and that. The way Bill spoke about that night in their front yard made it clear he had been holding something back, like he didn't want to tell him why she had been acting so crazy.

His thoughts turned to Ginny's mysterious conversation with Hermione he had caught a glimpse of while leaving the kitchen a few days ago. Ron still didn't know what it was all about and neither girl would say. He had a sneaky suspicion that the whole thing seemed to involve him somehow, which gave him a flutter in his stomach, but it wasn't like his sister would be open to answering questions if she felt he was intruding in her personal conversations with Hermione.

"Hey! Where've you been all morning? Mum was worried when you left the house so early!" Fred and George came into view as Ron drew near. "Oy! Are you even listening to me? Earth to Ronald?" Fred said as he flew a small figure eight around Ron in the sky.

"No. I was thinking about other stuff, you git." Ron rolled his eyes, as he steadied the broom and flew towards the field below. Fred followed, and together, the twins flew low over the trees and the Weasley home in the distance.

"How about some Quidditch later?" Fred asked, pointing to a worn football in the grass below.

"Sure," Ron replied, hoping it would help ease some of his anxious thoughts. He didn't feel like being around his parents at the moment and flying with his brothers seemed like the better option.

The sun shone brightly in the cloudless blue sky, the heat warming his cheeks and the smell of cut grass filling his nostrils. He couldn't help but grin a little. Summer really was nearly over, and he was feeling pretty good about it. He was ready to get back to Hogwarts, ready to get back to normal, even though the normal was always some sort of disaster at school. But, he did enjoy it there, even when there were Dark Wizards, monsters, and dementors roaming around. It felt more like home than home did sometimes.

As Ron and Fred continued their flight around the grounds of the Burrow, they saw Hermione appear from the forest near the Weasleys' home, walking down the long drive and past the gate. Her posture looked tense, but otherwise she seemed all right. Her arms were crossed as if she was cold. She seemed lost in thought, her gaze distant as she walked down the path.

As they passed above her, Ron thought about her behavior the past had become more closed off than usual. He couldn't recall the last time she'd let herself just talk freely, to let her thoughts out into the air like she normally did. Ron watched her disappear past the gate and into the house, it was probably something having to do with Harry again, he reckoned.

"I bet you want to follow her, don't you? "

"Why would I follow her? " Ron shot Fred a dirty look. He could always see right through his attempts to conceal his thoughts.

"You can't fool me, I see the way you look at her, how you stare at her all the time."

"I do not! I was just wondering... " Ron stopped mid-sentence as he realized how absurd he sounded, even to himself. He let out an exasperated sigh. "Ugh. Forget it."

Fred laughed loudly as he zoomed ahead and Ron followed after, hoping he wasn't blushing.

The Weasleys' Burrow was an old, crumbling building situated at the end of a dirt path in the middle of the countryside. The surrounding forest provided plenty of places to fly, and Ron had spent most of his time here soaring through the treetops, chasing Fred and George as they zipped along on their broomsticks. The sun shone down on the Weasleys' yard and Ron couldn't help but smile. It was a beautiful day, and it was nice to be outside after spending the morning in his room.

The wind whistled as they sped across the fields below. Ron had been up here so many times over the past few days that the sights, smells and sounds had become familiar to him, but there was something calming about them now that made him feel content and at peace. The feeling didn't last long, however.

"Oy! Ronnie!" Fred shouted, as they approached a small group of people in the yard. "Let's fly a bit higher!"

Ron hesitated, glancing back towards the house, where he spotted his sister Ginny waving at him. The others waved too, beckoning him down, but Ron knew that he didn't have a choice, at least for now.

He sighed, gripping the handle tighter before accelerating up after his older brother.

They reached the tree-line quickly, soaring over the top of the tallest oaks as they ascended higher. Ron leaned forward, adjusting the angle of his broom handle. He knew the feeling that would come soon and he was ready for it. The air became cooler and thinner, the ground becoming more distant with each passing second. His breathing became shallow and his muscles tensed as he flew higher and higher into the sky. The clouds below them became closer and closer until finally they broke through the last layer, the tops of the tallest oaks in the distance below.

They hovered in place, letting the wind blow past them as they surveyed the countryside below. It was an amazing sight. The Burrow and its surrounding fields, trees and hills, all laid out in front of them, seemingly in miniature, stretched out beneath them like a patchwork quilt. Ron grinned to himself. The feeling he got from being up here never seemed to lose its effect. The world below him suddenly didn't seem so big, and all of his worries seemed so far away.

Grimmauld Place, the Noble and most Ancient house of the Black family, was cloaked in an eerie stillness that was more common to cemeteries than the bustling headquarters of a secret organization. It was almost as if time had stopped in the old mansion.

It was a grand old place with a dark and foreboding facade that matched the Black family's dark and twisted reputation. Its tall, arched windows were covered by heavy drapes, and the doors were made of heavy oak. There were no lights shining through the windows, and the only sounds came from the occasional creak of the floorboards or a gust of wind through the rafters.

Inside the mansion, things were not much better. The furniture was old and dusty, and there was a sense of unease that hung in the air. It was like stepping back in time, a time that was darker and more dangerous than the present.

One person who seemed to fit the atmosphere of the place perfectly was Severus Snape. He was the head of the Slytherin House and a member of the Order of the Phoenix who operated as a double spy for both Dumbledore and the Dark Lord.

Snape had been teaching Harry Occulmancy for some time now within the old house, and despite the truce that had been established between them, the hatred and animosity between them had not faded. Harry felt the hatred as much as Snape did, but he knew that if he wanted to improve his Occulmancy skills, he had to learn to overcome it.

In one of their sessions, Snape had tried to push Harry to the point of breaking, using his hate and anger as a tool to help him focus his magic. He had even conjured an image of his mother, Lily, in an effort to taunt Harry into attacking him. Harry had nearly succumbed to his fury, but Dumbledore had stepped in and stopped him.

In another session, Snape had attempted to get Harry to let down his Occulmency shields, but Harry had refused. He knew that if he lowered them, he would be vulnerable to the dark forces that lurked inside his own mind, and he had no intention of falling victim to them again.

Moody, on the other hand, was a much more straightforward teacher. He had drilled Harry on defense tactics, teaching him how to anticipate an attack and respond to it effectively. He had also taught him a few tricks, like the ability to use non-verbal spells, which Harry had never known to exist.

"Over here, boy!" Cried the grizzled auror as another blast of magic flew towards Harry, who barely managed to deflect it with his wand. "You're going to get yourself killed if you don't focus!"

Another volley of magic flew towards him, and Harry dove out of the way just in time to avoid it. He felt a sharp pain in his ribs as he landed, but he gritted his teeth and forced himself to keep going. He was determined to show Moody that he was worthy of his trust.

As the battle wore on, Harry found himself growing more and more frustrated. The old auror moved around him like a phantom, he seemed to anticipate Harry's every move, dodging his attacks with ease while returning them with even greater ferocity. It was like fighting a shadow, one that always seemed to be one step ahead.

After what felt like hours, Moody finally called a halt to the training. Harry was exhausted, sweaty, and his arms were starting to feel like lead. He stumbled over to a nearby bench and collapsed on it, struggling to catch his breath.

Moody approached him, his expression grim. "That was far from your finest hour, lad."

"I'm sorry. I just don't feel like I'm getting anywhere. Every time I think I'm improving, you just come along and make me feel like a first year all over again."

The Auror let out a gruff snort, his magical eye whirring and scanning the surroundings. "Don't be daft, lad," Moody growled. "I've been tangling with the darkest of forces since before you could say 'Quidditch.' What I'm showin' you ain't the sort of stuff you'll pick up from a dusty old tome or by givin' your wand a flick. It's the real deal, and you'll be thankin' me for it when the time comes."

Harry looked at him skeptically. "If you say so. It just seems like we've been at it for weeks, and I still haven't made any progress."

"Patience, Harry," Remus chided from his position by the window. He had been observing Harry's training when he wasn't busy running errands for the Order, providing feedback and suggestions whenever he could. "It takes time and practice to master the arts of dark defense. Don't give up so soon."

Moody let out a sharp laugh. "Don't listen to him, boy. You'll learn nothin' from his namby-pamby approach. You gotta push yourself to your limits. That's how you learn."

Remus sighed, shaking his head. "I don't think that's necessarily true, Alastor."

Harry sat back on the bench, wiping the sweat from his brow.

Moody snorted again, brandishing his wand. "If the boy is serious about defending himself, he needs to be able to deal with a surprise attack."

Remus glanced between them, his face tightening with anxiety. "I really don't think thats a good idea, Alastor..."

He leveled his wand at Harry, and in a flash, the boy was surrounded by a ring of fire, flames licking at his robes and singeing his hair. He reacted quickly, rolling out of the way and scrambling to his feet, wand outstretched. He muttered a counter-spell, extinguishing the flames, and whirled around, wand out.

"I'll give you points for speed, boy," Moody said with a grim smile. "But you need to be prepared for anything!"

He conjured another ring of fire, and Harry was forced to use his wand to push back the flames. He gritted his teeth, sweat beading on his forehead as he struggled to focus his magic. He couldn't afford to get distracted by his surroundings or he could lose his focus and end up seriously hurt.

As the training continued, Harry felt a sense of frustration building inside of him. It seemed that no matter how hard he tried, no matter what he did or how fast he reacted, Moody always found a way to outsmart him. He had been taught a variety of spells and techniques, but it seemed that Moody knew them all and was using them against him.

It was maddening.

It wasn't until Harry had been disarmed and sent crashing into a cushioned wall the 7th or so time that day until Remus intervened, calling for a halt to the training session.

Harry sat up, groaning as he rubbed his sore muscles, his wand lying uselessly on the floor a few feet away. He felt drained, both physically and emotionally. It was like the auror was just toying with him, taking advantage of his weaknesses and leaving him with more questions than answers.

Harry left the makeshift training area and began to ascend the rickety stairs towards his room, eager for a moment of respite. As he passed the long corridor on the third floor, he noticed something strange.

A shadow was lurking in the hallway, hovering by the doorway of one of the abandoned bedrooms. As he peered at it, it slowly faded away as if it was a trick of the light.

Harry felt a shiver run down his spine as he hurriedly continued up the stairs towards his room. It was as if the dark presence within his own mind he had felt before was somehow still lingering, a warning that something was still lurking in the old house.

The following day, Harry found himself in yet another Occulmancy lesson with Snape.

"The trick, Potter, is to visualize an object you care deeply about and use it as a focus to help build your walls." Snape had his head bowed and eyes closed as he focused on his own walls.

Harry did the same. His mind automatically turned to Hermione. He thought about her smile and her bright, curious eyes. He thought about how the voices invading his mind had nearly driven him to harm her and felt a sharp pain in his heart.

He forced himself to focus on the moment. He took a deep breath and concentrated on his shields. He thought about Hermione's face. He thought about how he could protect her. With each passing minute, he thought about how he wanted to keep her safe no matter what.

Snape slowly opened his eyes and fixed Harry with a resentful glare. "Your infatuation with Miss Granger has made it all too easy to gain access to your mind. Your defenses are weak. Your emotions are a liability. You would be wise to learn to control them if you ever hope to defeat the Dark Lord."

Snape rose to his feet, straightening his black robes as he prepared to leave. "This will be your first and only warning. The Dark Lord has a tendency to take advantage of those with loose control over their emotions and it would be a shame for Miss Granger to get caught in the crossfire of your ineptitude. The best course of action would be for you to distance yourself from her if you truly wish her safety."

Snape swept out of the room, his robes billowing behind him, leaving Harry alone with his thoughts.

Harry gritted his teeth. He had spent the better part of a day working on his Occulmancy and all Snape had to say was that she was a liability?

Harry stood up abruptly. He didn't need this. He was doing the best that he could. He wasn't going to let Snape's sour grapes get the better of him. He was going to continue his training, and he was going to continue doing his best to protect himself and the people around him, whether Snape liked it or not.

The next few days saw a flurry of activity at Grimmauld Place as members of the Order came and went with their own training and duties, each with their own opinions about Harry's training.

Harry continued to train with Moody, Remus, and a few other aurors who would occasionally stop by for a visit. Moody seemed to have an endless supply of magical curses, hexes, and jinxes, and he was eager to try them out on Harry. Remus was a little more restrained, but he was still willing to offer suggestions and encouragement when necessary.

As for Harry himself, he felt like he was improving, but it was slow and painful, and it didn't help that there were so many different people involved. Moody's style of training was direct and physical, while Remus had a more patient and encouraging approach. There was often conflict between the two of them and Harry found himself stuck in the middle.

One afternoon, Harry found himself in the drawing room after finishing a long and painful session with Moody. His muscles were sore and bruised, his head ached from all of the spell casting, he just wanted a break.

"I must say Harry, I'm impressed with the progress you've made so far." Dumbledore commented, peering at him over the rim of his half-moon glasses.

"It doesn't feel like much," Harry admitted with a shrug, sitting down heavily in a plush armchair by the fireplace. "I mean, it feels like I'm barely scraping by."

Dumbledore let out a small chuckle. "I wouldn't be so hard on yourself. I remember my own early years with my occulmency tutors. It wasn't easy for me either, and I had the benefit of being a first year when I was starting."

Harry glanced over at the old wizard. "Was it as bad for you as it was for me?"

Dumbledore shook his head, his expression growing more somber. "I don't think there was a time I wasn't aware of my abilities. I always had a talent for it, ever since I was a little boy. But even then, it took a lot of practice and dedication to be able to keep out those dark thoughts, especially as a child. You shouldn't let yourself get discouraged by how much progress you're making."

Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he considered his next words carefully. He was reluctant to say too much, not knowing how Dumbledore would react. "What was it like? Your childhood, I mean."

"Ah." Dumbledore gave him a thoughtful look. "It wasn't easy, I'll admit. My brother, Aberforth, was the older of the two of us, and he was quite the terror growing up. He would tease me mercilessly and push me to my limits, challenging me to defend myself and my beliefs. But in the end, I think it helped me grow into the man I am today."

"So...you were bullied too?" Harry asked, his brow furrowing slightly.

"I wouldn't use the word 'bullied,' but my brother did test my patience and my abilities at every opportunity. He had a keen mind and an even keener tongue, and he could be quite difficult to get along with at times." Dumbledore sighed, his gaze turning distant as he lost himself in his memories.

"But you turned out all right?" Harry pressed.

"Well, I like to think so," Dumbledore said, giving Harry a small smile.

Harry couldn't help but grin a little as he nodded in agreement. "Yeah, me too."

Harry was surprised at how much it meant to him to know that Dumbledore had struggled like he did. It was comforting to know that he wasn't alone. It made him feel better about the challenges that he faced, and the things that he needed to accomplish.

"Summer is nearly at an end," Dumbledore than said, leaning forward to give Harry a pointed look. "Have you thought about where you would like to spend the remaining time? The Burrow, perhaps?"

The Burrow.

"Is Hermione still there?" Harry asked, his thoughts racing.

"She is indeed," Dumbledore responded, his eyes twinkling merrily. "In fact, she has been most eager for your return. Harry, do you still hold any reservations about seeing her?"

"I... I'm not sure, Professor. I do want to see her and the Weasleys, but that night, I could have killed her. Idon't know what I want, honestly. I don't think their safe with me around."

"Tell me, Harry. Following Severus's intervention within your mind, have you encountered any lingering voices... thoughts?"

Besides the figure he had thought he'd seen the other day, the voices and shadows that plagued him seemed to have disappeared completely. He still had nightmares, but the visions where no where near the caliber of before.

"No, I don't think so. Nothing besides those... ordinary nightmares, I suppose."

"Do you feel that it is Voldemort?" Dumbledore asked.

"No. It feels like... I don't know, sir." Harry paused and considered the shadow in hallway, "But... sometimes it feels familiar. I just can't quite place it."

"Familiar?"

"I think... I think I saw someone the other day. In the corridor. It was only a moment. I can't say if it's my mind playing tricks on me or..."

"You don't think it could have been an echo? A lingering presence left by the spirit Professor Snape had banished?"

"I'm not sure."

"You will need to remain vigilant, Harry. Now, shall I arrange for your transportation to the Burrow?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry considered this.

He wanted to see his friends. He wanted to see the Weasleys. And, above all else, for some reason he couldn't really explain, he wanted to see Hermione, but at the same time he didn't. He was afraid to see her reaction, afraid to see what she thought of him after that night. Afraid that he might still be under the influence of whatever it was that wanted him to hurt her. Snape was right, he wasn't fit to be around anyone right now, not when he didn't fully trust himself. And besides the point, his time in Grimmauld Place hadn't been so bad now that the Order had occupied it as their official headquarters.

"No," Harry replied softly. "I'd like to remain here until the start of term, if that's okay."

"Are you sure, Harry?"

He nodded, his gaze still lowered.

"As you wish." Dumbledore agreed, though Harry sensed a note of resignation in his tone.

"You'll need to keep practicing your occlumency techniques. Your mind must be your primary line of defense against the darkness. However, Harry, please do not allow this house to become a place of exile."

Harry's face heated as he felt a sudden surge of shame, as if he were being scolded for not wanting to see his friends. He understood Dumbledore's point, but at the same time, he didn't want to hurt the people he cared about. He was too afraid of the things that could go wrong if he was with them.

"I understand," he replied softly. "Thank you, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled.

"That is all for this evening. Make sure to practice your occlumency before you go to bed."

"Yes, Professor. I will. Good night."

Harry turned and left the sitting room, closing the door quietly behind him.