A/N: Last Tuesday at university we got an assignment to write a few lines about "free will", well, and instead of just philosophizing about it, I thought I could put my hobby to use and make this one-shot out of it. Maybe it will even get me a better mark! I hope you'll like it! If you do, or if you don't, please leave a review to tell me what you think, okay? Thanks!

Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling. I'm only writing for fun (or, just as this time for some credit at university) and I'm not making any profit out of this story.


Free Will

Function: noun

1 voluntary choice or decision I do this of my own free will

2 freedom of humans to make choices that are not determined by prior causes or by divine intervention

- Merriam-Webster Online


One week had passed since Harry had returned from his fifth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, more than one week already, since his godfather Sirius Black had gone through the veil and Harry had heard the contents of the prophecy.

…neither can live while the other survives…

This part of the prophecy was once again running through his mind, as he was lying on the lumpy mattress of his bed in the smallest bedroom at number four, Privet Drive. No matter what he did, no matter how hard he tried to think of something else, his mind always drifted back to this phrase. It was haunting him, day and night, even more than the thoughts of Sirius's death.

As a matter of fact, Harry thought that he was coming to terms with his godfather's passing quite well. He knew that Sirius wouldn't want him to stop living and even though it was hard and it still hurt terribly to think of him, Harry had learned to move on. He had too much to do and he knew perfectly well that Voldemort was still out there, most likely already concocting another plan after the fiasco at the Ministry of Magic.

Which brought him back to the prophecy.

Harry threw a tired glance out of the window. It was dark outside, but no stars could be seen. Two days ago, a strange mist had settled over Little Whinging, always filling him with a chill emptiness, which he had come to associate with Dementors.

Quickly turning away to once again gaze at the ceiling of his room, Harry shuddered inwardly. Somehow, the mist always made him remember the prophecy more vividly. He didn't want to face it, but he knew that he had no choice.

Harry had to defeat Voldemort… He had to kill him. There was no other way around, he had no other choice.

Not for the first time in the last few days, Harry wondered, what would have happened, what he would have done, if there had never been a prophecy. Or if Neville had been the Chosen One. Would he have turned his back to the war, or would he have fought of his own free will? Would he have still wanted to kill Voldemort, or would he have been content to sit at the sidelines?

Why did he even want to fight now? Was it because of the prophecy, because it told him he had to, or was he doing it of his own free will?

Free will… Did something like this even exist? Did he really have a choice? A choice not determined by destiny or some other influence from the past?

If Trelawney never had spoken those fatal words, condemning him to this destiny, Harry was sure that he still would have fought. So many people had died and were still dying because of Voldemort and his Death Eaters. Voldemort had killed his parents, Cedric and, in a way, Sirius! So how could he just turn his back to this war?

But again, this decision wouldn't have been made of his own free will, but because he wanted vengeance. Harry wanted vengeance on the man who had killed his parents, had killed Cedric and was responsible for Sirius's death. He couldn't back down, he couldn't just retreat and act as if all those deaths had never happened. He had to fight.

His obligation to fight, however, stretched even further. Because of his status as The Boy Who Lived, the whole wizarding world looked up to him, expecting him to do great things. Now that they all had accepted that Voldemort was really back, they were expecting him, The Chosen One, to take care of the Dark Lord once and for all. Of course he wouldn't want to let them down, no matter how much they had tried to demean him and Dumbledore for the last year. It just wasn't like him.

"Free will!" Harry spat in a whisper. Something like this didn't exist. All of his decisions were, in one way or another, influenced by something that had happened in his past. Those choices weren't made voluntarily, but because he had to make them.

It is our choices that show what we truly are.

Harry still remembered Dumbledore's words. Back then, they had been talking about why the Sorting Hat had put him in Gryffindor. The answer was simple – because he had asked it not to send him to Slytherin's House. And why didn't he want to go in Slytherin? Because he had met Draco Malfoy and had seen in the pale boy everything he didn't want to be. This and Hagrid's statement that there wasn't a single witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin and that Voldemort was also one. Why would he want to be in the same House as the man who had killed his parents?

It hadn't been his own free will that had made him make the decision to not go in Slytherin. It was influenced by his experience with Malfoy and what Hagrid had told him.

His whole character had been stamped by prior causes and this had made him to the young man he was now.

But even if his choices back then and his choice to fight and kill Voldemort now weren't made of his own free will, Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived and Chosen One knew that it was the right thing to do.