I'm a little bit older (not so much wiser), and my writing has improved since To Persevere was first written. So, it now has a shiny new summary and is going to get a fresh lick of paint. The plot isn't going to change. I'm just going to do major editorial updates and heavy rewording to try and improve the writing. This will hopefully also help me get the sequel finished.

Chapters should be replaced/updated every few weeks or so. Enjoy.

It was over: he could not see or hear where Voldemort was; he glimpsed another Death Eater swooping out of the way and heard,

"Avada-"

And that's when it happened. Harry's vision shifted.

He was no longer on the motorbike. Instead Harry was somewhere high above, watching as his body, Hagrid and the bike plunged towards the ground. Harry tried to move his arm, to turn his head, but his limbs refused to react. Harry could only watch as he remained disconnected from his body.

Harry's new perspective was steady in comparison, eyes narrowing and wand lowering.

It was only due to the searing pain splintering through Harry's head, did Harry find himself slipping out of Voldemort's mind and back into his own. Harry's fingers were shaking as he fumbled with the steering, Hagrid's limp body was hanging over the handlebars, making it impossible to manoeuvre.

Harry barely heard Voldemort's high pitch voice. His head was spinning, and it left him no time to react as Voldemort's spell struck him squarely on the chest.

In an instant, the plummeting sensation in Harry's gut halted. Now, only ice cold was running through his every being, creeping to the depths of his mind. Harry opened his mouth to scream, but no sound came out.

Harry slammed his eyes shut. He was going to die.

Harry couldn't move and all the he could see was a dim light flickering behind his eyelids. His limbs were frozen, locked shut as his chest rose and fell sharply. The wind no longer tickled his skin, but that offered little comfort as his body remained numb and unresponsive.

The only real sensation was Voldemort's overwhelming presence, flooding his mind and cutting deep into Harry's soul. Harry was losing grip on consciousness, but simultaneously his vision was coming into a sharp focus.

For the second time that night, Harry found himself out of his own body.

Voldemort was standing over him in silence, wand spinning slowly as Harry's body floated above a large wooden table. Death Eaters surrounded him, waiting expectantly for their Lord to finish what should have been done all those years ago.

Harry groaned as he was dragged back into his own body.

"Be quiet, Potter."

Harry opened his eyes, only to be greeted by blurry shadows.

"The Veritaserum," Voldemort said.

Instinctively Harry locked his jaw shut, but he couldn't turn his head to see the approaching figure. Instead, Harry could only hear the dim mutterings and rustles from the surrounding Death Eaters.

Droplets burned his lips and Harry spluttered, coughing as a sharp coolness ran down his throat.

"The Prophecy?" Voldemort said.

Harry's mouth moved automatically. His own voice seemed distant and unrecognisable as the words spilled out.

And then there was silence.

Voldemort spoke again, his voice so terribly soft as Harry's scar prickled.

"Do you know what you are?"

Harry's mind spun, but he felt his mouth answer the question he did not understand.

"No," Harry said.

And for the first time Harry felt a true jolt of fear, he didn't understand what Voldemort meant.

Strangely though, Voldemort seemed satisfied with his answer. The Death Eaters around the room shifted.

"The antidote," Voldemort said.

A blurry Death Eater stepped forwards, grabbing Harry chin as he shoved a bottle to his lips. Harry coughed, but at least he could feel the control returning to his mouth.

It happened as soon as the Death Eater stepped away. Harry's invisible bonds broke, and Harry fell hard onto the table beneath, hissing as he head slammed onto the wood.

The Death Eaters laughed as Harry stumbled to his feet, squinting as he tried to make out the room. At least his scar was an indication for Voldemort's direction. Holding himself steady Harry faced Voldemort, and pulled himself straight. He removed his hand from his burning head.

"Kill me then," Harry said as coldly and as calmly as he could. Death couldn't be that painful he thought dully.

A blurry Voldemort raised his wand, but no incantation came. Instead, Harry's vision cleared, his glasses pulling Voldemort into a sharp focus.

"You are no use to me dead, Potter," Voldemort said.

The room stilled and the Death Eaters stopped sniggering. Harry frowned, his heart thumping uncontrollably.

"Didn't think so a moment a go?" he said.

Voldemort mouth curled into a very sharp smile.

"Circumstances change."

Harry's heart must have missed a beat.

"What circumstances?" he said.

Voldemort didn't answer; instead he turned aside to address his Death Eaters.

Knowing he wasn't going to get an answer, Harry followed Voldemort's attention. Most Death Eaters were masked but Harry couldn't help but raise his eyebrows as he saw a familiar Slytherin. Draco Malfoy was standing beside his father, and he didn't look very healthy. His already pale skin seemed to be practically white. Malfoy wouldn't meet his gaze.

"How many dead, Yaxley?" Voldemort said.

"Just Moody, Snape might have killed one of the copycats," Yaxley said. "The giant might be dead too, he fell quite a way."

"Good," Voldemort said.

It was if all the breath had been knocked sharply from Harry's body. Moody was dead. Harry's head was spinning, he didn't want to consider Hagrid's death.

"Which copycat?" Harry asked, his stomach twisting into a painful knot.

Yaxley hesitated but Voldemort only nodded.

"The one with the werewolf," Yaxley said.

George Weasley.

Harry gripped the table, legs already weak, but ready to give way. He didn't want to show any weakness, but he couldn't stop shaking. Yaxley had just been speculating, George couldn't be dead. Voldemort's red eyes were fixed on Harry, almost expectantly as if Harry would answer who the copycat had been.

A scream pierced the room, echoing from downstairs.

Other Death Eaters sniggered again, looking eagerly at Harry, but Voldemort only looked annoyed. The scream echoed again, and Harry had a funny feeling that if Voldemort wasn't going to kill him, he would be joining them downstairs soon.

Voldemort drew something from up his sleeve. Harry's wand. Harry started forwards, but Voldemort only had to nod once.

"Crucio."

Harry dropped to the floor, pain consuming as his body burned. It was unrelenting agony, flooding through every nerve as he screamed. Everything was constricting, he couldn't breath.

The curse lifted, but Harry's limbs remained numb and trembling. It took so much effort to pull himself up, ears burning from the Death Eaters laughter.

Voldemort hadn't been paying attention, he was still examining Harry's wand, twirling it around carefully in his hand.

"Get Ollivander," he said.

A Death Eaters bowed low and left the room.

Harry watched as the large doors shut. There really was no way out, not when Death Eaters grinned maliciously from behind their masks from every corner.

Harry heard the another yelp from downstairs. Harry didn't know what else to do. He might not get another chance. There was little he could do to help the wand maker.

Harry had barely considered running, making a break for it when the door reopened, when Voldemort flicked Harry's own wand. Harry jumped as something cold clasped tightly around his right ankle. Looking down he saw a heavy chain protruded from the ground now fastened securely to his ankle.

The large door opened again, as Harry glared at Voldemort.

"Leave us," Voldemort said.

The Death Eaters were obviously disappointed, but they obeyed, marching out of the room silently.

Ollivander looked so much older then Harry had remembered. He was shaking, covered in dirt and he limped heavily across the other side of the table from Harry. He winced as he cowered before Voldemort.

Voldemort passed Ollivander Harry's wand silently. Ollivander didn't need to look at it properly, even though the light was dim he gasped in shock his voice dry.

"This is Harry Potter's wand."

He then glanced around the room and his gaze came to rest on Harry.

"Oh my dear boy," he said, pity in his eyes.

Harry didn't know what to say, he was concentrating on how he could get his wand, he doubted he would get very far. Perhaps Ollivander would throw it. Harry shifted forwards slightly his heart racing.

However, Ollivander did no such thing, he merely muttered something Harry didn't hear as he passed the wand back to Voldemort. Harry gritted his teeth, he had missed one of the few opportunities he was ever going to get.

"Dark magic lingers in this wand," Ollivander said gravely.

"It does not," Harry said.

He stepped forwards only for the shackle to tighten and the chain to constrict. He stopped short frustrated, glaring at Ollivander.

"I'm afraid it does, Mr Potter," Ollivander said. "Your wands collided, did they not?"

Harry glanced at Voldemort who was now watching Harry intently. Harry ignored him and nodded stiffly.

"It seems that power from the Dark Lords own wand emanated into your own," Ollivander said.

Harry who was rather attached to his wand, felt his heart sink.

"Of course," Ollivander said, a look of wonder crossing his old face. "It is still a normal wand. However, yielded by the Dark Lord it will embrace him."

"What are you on about?" Harry said.

"The wand chooses the wizard, Mr Potter," Ollivander paused as if the whole concept was fascinating. "And your wand has changed allegiance."

Harry remembered how much he hadn't liked Ollivander in the first place.

Voldemort seemed to be done with the wand maker for he nodded towards the one remaining Death Eater, who pulled Ollivander from the room. Harry was sure the old wizard had gone mad, as Ollivander was muttering, "Curious, very curious," as he was dragged out.

And then they were alone.

Harry stared coldly at Voldemort whose thin lips curved into a frightening smile. Something really had changed.

"Why aren't I dead?" Harry asked again.

Voldemort stepped closer.

Harry held his ground as Voldemort stopped right in front of him. Voldemort only raised Harry's own wand again and pointed it directly at Harry's head. Harry knew the killing curse wasn't coming and surprisingly that scared him more. He didn't know what to expect.

Voldemort moved Harry's wand, parting his hair out of the way to reveal his scar. Harry didn't move, he wasn't going to let Voldemort have the satisfaction.

And then Harry's head erupted.

Harry couldn't see. His vision was foggy as he staggered, grasping his head. His lungs compressed as he struggled. Harry fell to his knees desperate for oxygen. His head pressing in on itself, his very soul on fire. Voldemort's presence was stronger than ever. It was consuming him, it was him.

Harry's mind was tearing apart. One half, Harry, the other, Lord Voldemort pushing down on his very soul. Everything was heavy, twisted and suffocating.

Harry tried to concentrate, scrambled to bring the images of Ron and Hermione into his head but he couldn't. Voldemort was too strong. Voldemort was in control.

"So weak, Harry," Harry heard his own mouth say, felt his own mouth curving into a cruel smile.

NO. Harry thought, he would not be controlled. Yet he could feel his own body moving as if under a spell. His vision was blurry, the pain still relentless. Hedwig, Moody, Hagrid, George. Harry threw them up in his head, the grief and pain so overwhelming that he fell back into control.

Harry was on the floor as Voldemort stood directly in front of him. Voldemort had possessed him.

Harry didn't look up, this time not bothering to stand tall, he spoke from the floor.

"Just kill me," Harry spat. This wasn't part of the deal. Harry had always expected death.

Voldemort did not reply. Instead he flicked Harry's wand towards the door.

It opened and Yaxley moved in and bowed.

"Yaxley," Voldemort said. "Take Potter downstairs."

Yaxley stepped towards Harry who still hadn't moved. Raising his wand Yaxley pointed towards the door.

"Move, Potter."

Harry forced himself to stand. He didn't want to obey but the thought of being away from Voldemort gave him strength. Frustrated, Harry forced himself up, legs shaking. The shackle fell from his ankle.

Voldemort wasn't looking in his direction as Harry followed Yaxley. Harry didn't understand, what could possible have stopped Voldemort from killing him. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

Ginny was standing in the doorway.

Inside it was too claustrophobic, with everyone jostling around trying to distract themselves from the screaming absence of Harry and Hagrid.

George was better now, they had managed to stem his wound and his ear was now wrapped up in fresh bandage. Moody's death was lingering, and the very possibility that he wasn't the only one to die tonight was resting heavily in the air.

Ginny couldn't bring herself to move away from the door. She had to see that Harry was safe. He had to be late, after all nearly everyone had missed their portkeys.

Ginny could hear frantic whispers from inside. She didn't know who was talking but she didn't particularly care.

There was nothing for another ten minutes. Ginny only turned her gaze away from the empty lawn as Remus appeared beside her.

"I'm going to find them," he said.

Remus walked out across the garden and vanished.

Tonks moved to stand next to her. Ginny knew Ron and Hermione were sitting quietly together. Ron obviously muttering words of comfort to Hermione who was just staring blankly ahead.

"He'll be okay," Tonks said quietly "He always is."

But something felt wrong, Ginny couldn't hold back her worry. Each second lasted an age.

A loud crack announced Remus's return.

Ginny ran forwards, recoiling in horror as she saw Remus's anguished face. Tonks followed, coming to a halt beside her.

"Hagrid's pretty bad, he fell pretty far. He's being fixed up at the moment," Remus said.

Ginny bit her lip, voice failing her.

"Harry?" Tonks said, voice breaking.

Remus looked devastated as he just shook his head.

"Gone."

Ginny fell to her knees as her heart broke. Tonks caught her by the shoulders, pulling her into a tight hug. Tears fell down Ginny's face, uncontrollable and desperate. Harry couldn't be gone. He just couldn't.

Remus's return had clearly alerted the others, but as Ron and Hermione dashed outside, Remus' face and Ginny's fallen body was all the information they needed.

"No," Hermione screamed.

It cut through Ginny, sharp and painful.

Ron was clinging to Hermione, trying to hold her still as she punched him hard on the shoulder, sobbing as she fell into his arms. Ron's face said it all. He was lost. He hadn't even contemplated Harry dying. They all knew he couldn't possible be alive.

"Come on," Remus said his voice hollow. "Get inside."

Ginny let Tonks steer her into the house as Ron and Hermione followed.

Tonks passed her gently to her mother, but it didn't help as she too was shaking in grief.

The twins were completely silent as Fred sat close to George. Ginny couldn't bear her mothers tears, or Hermione and Ron's broken faces. Yet she couldn't move, she couldn't force herself to run away.

Nothing would ever be okay again. Harry was gone. A fresh wave of tears rolled down her face as she heard noises in the garden, nobody stirred as her father and Bill entered the house.

Ginny didn't look up, she didn't have to.

"No," her father's voice cut through her painfully as he barely whispered. "Harry?"

No one answered, they didn't have too. Ginny could now hear Flur crying, she must have embraced Bill because her sobs were now muffled.

Kingsley moved across the room and waved his wand. Ginny watched as a full glass of something floated in front of her.

She didn't want it, whatever it was wasn't going to help.

"To Harry and Alastor."

Ginny struggled to find her voice and she took the glass.

"Harry," she whispered as she threw the liquid down her throat. It burned but she relished the pain.

Harry had been locked in the darkened room for well over an hour. He couldn't see properly and his head was pulsing from Voldemort's spurious emotions. Harry had spent most of the time feeling his way around cautiously in the dark.

Voldemort hadn't killed him. It made no sense. Harry should have been long dead by now, but here he was very much alive, not even injured.

Harry still wasn't sure who had gotten to their respective safe houses. Moody's death was still sitting painfully in his stomach. Harry couldn't get his guilt nor his grief to diminish. And Harry had no indication whether Hagrid and George were alive.

It was a long time before Harry hunched himself down in the corner, body aching for sleep. It was going to be a long night.

One thing was certain though, the Death Eaters had been waiting for them to emerge. He tried to think back on what had happened but found it hard to piece things together.

He couldn't imagine what the others would be going through, would they even know he was alive. At least Ron and Hermione knew what had to be done. It was up to them now.

Harry's eyes had hardly accustomed to the dark and he could still only make out faint outlines of the room. He felt his stomach twist uncomfortable, how long was he going to stay in this rotting dungeon. That itself didn't make any sense, why would Voldemort put him down here and let him rot away when he could just destroy him.

Voldemort must be planning something and Harry was going to make sure he got away before he found out what.

Voldemort stood deadly still, his mind calculating the night's events. The boy. Everything made sense now. He had been ignorant to not spot it before.

They had always shared a disturbingly close link. The fact that the boy was a parselmouth should have been an indication enough. Voldemort had felt Potter slip into his mind, latching on in desperation as his life was about to end. Voldemort had always shared a strong connection with his Horcrux's, they were a part of him.

Voldemort's thoughts wondered back to the prophecy, "The Dark Lord shall mark him as his equal," This in itself explained as much, the boy lived with his own soul attached.

Nagini hissed on the floor in anger.

Seven Horcrux's, although the diary had been destroyed and Potter would be a huge reliability. Voldemort had wanted seven, they would bind him to life with the most power. To create one Horcrux was dangerous enough but to create seven he had pushed the limits of magic. He dare not create another, nor would he part with a single one.

Potter would have to live, but the boy could never find out the truth. He would have to be controlled.

Voldemort would have to break Potter in a way that would not endanger his Horcrux. He had possessed Potter because Voldemort knew he could latch himself onto his own soul, Potter would have been able to fight him off easily otherwise. Just like before.

Voldemort's gaze sharpened as another option came to his thoughts. He didn't need the boys mind, only the body protecting the Horcrux.

If his Horcrux was strong enough, it would be able to over power the boys own soul. As long as Voldemort made sure Potter could not fight back, then his own soul in control of the Potter's body would be surprising success. One that he would use to his advantage.