A/n: thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers and my guardian angel and awesome beta: SetsunaX!

The award for best review this time goes for: Meidai

--Girl you rule! I'm utterly thankful! Hope you like the chapter!

I hope you ALL like the chapter and review! Well this chapter was going to be up last Friday, but real life caught me once again!! Nothing I could do!

My PC went on strike! But it's working again, and now I just have to answer all the reviews (once again if you can put the story on alert and on your favorite's list you can also review! So go do it!) and write new chapters! Finally, 5 days without my PC and I thought my plot bunnies were going to eat me alive! Like a giant carrot!

Let's begin…

Chapter 4 - Freedom of Choice

"Actually…" And as Harry looked up completely puzzled, he picked up another potion from his pocket and thoughtlessly placed the vial on the table.

The vial… it was definitely strange.

'Bizarre' was the word that came to mind. Yes, there were several strange things about this vial and the potion it contained.

First, it had the oddest color. It was white, pure, pearly white - the kind of white that hurts the eyes if you look at it for too long. Like Harry was doing right now, before he had to look away or his eyes would start to dampen and fill with tears.

The second strange thing about the vial was the atmosphere around it. It had an eerie feeling to it. Spooky, it was plain spooky, and he had seen some spooky things in his life, so he knew spooky when he saw spooky!

The strangest thing though, was the way Voldemort had simply placed it on the table without a second glance, like he didn't care, either for that particular potion or for the fact that he was giving Harry a third choice. Truly, the whole scene was weird and made little sense to Harry, not that many things in his life made sense really, he should be used that by now, but it was almost as if Voldemort wanted the potion to go unnoticed. Like it didn't matter that much and was only produced from the inside of Voldemort's robes for the simple benefit of fulfilling Harry's request for a third potion, and maybe it was.

Problem was… the potion in itself didn't seem to back up that idea, with all the spookiness…

Did he want to know? Really?

He was pretty sure that if he just took one of the first two potions right now, and he bloody well knew which one it would be, he would die and never have to know what, exactly, was the torture Voldemort had devised with that potion, because it was a torture; a new way of tormenting him.

He was certain of it, and he didn't even want to know just so that he wouldn't have to admit to that man, to either of those men, and above all, to himself that he would rather drink the poison, die and just give up and be done with it.

Could he handle the curiosity though? More than that, could he ignore the little ray of hope that he had been searching for, for all his life and had never found, and by the looks of it, never would?

He knew that if it seemed too good to be true, then it was…

He was certain that if it could end up badly for him, it would…

And yet he continued to hope… to wish… to wonder…

What if it could happen?

What if it could be that way?

What if he didn't have to suffer every time?

What if it was this time?

What if for just this once…?

Hence his problem, his apparently, eternal problem. After all, this was the thing that always kept him going, and getting into more trouble! Crap, if it wasn't for that annoying little thing called hope, which he appeared to have ludicrous amounts of, he would have given up ages ago, and probably be dead by now! Thus he would never be in this mess in the first place, or have to make this stupid, stupid, cruel choice… Ah!

What did it matter in how he got here? He had a choice to make, well, two choices actually, but in reality it was only one, for if he admitted to himself that he could want something besides death then it really didn't matter what the hell was in the vial. If he chose to know what was in there he would also be admitting to himself that he didn't want to die. And the second potion, the muggle one, for him to become a muggle… he might as well be dead. He was sure he would die too.

So could he take a chance on life, on wanting life? Really he had never had a choice before on wanting to live. He was supposed to live, he had to or the muggle world would crumble and die with him, no pressure, huh?

Could he choose life, or better yet, could he ignore the possibility?

No, he couldn't. He was a dreamer right to the end, and he would die as dreamers always do - flying up high, then crashing and burning.

"What the hell is that crap?"

"Language," Voldemort said, raising an eyebrow. "If you ask properly I will tell you."

"Fine, may I be informed as to the nature of that crap?"

There was another snort from the direction of the door behind Voldemort. Harry couldn't be sure, but he could have sworn it sounded a lot like Snape.

"I guess that will do," Voldemort replied with a sigh. "It's exactly what you asked for, a third option, right? As to the exact nature of this 'crap', as you so appropriately phrased it, well that is the catch."

Harry rolled his eyes at that, and Voldemort continued. "Yes, you know there must always be a catch. I cannot tell you of this potion. What it does or even what it is. It's really just another choice. I hadn't even considered bringing it up if you hadn't asked for a third option."

"Well, since you seem so considerate to give me whatever I ask, can't you just let me go?"

"No."

"Or kill me, really? That would also be fine." Harry tried to manage a wishful look.

Voldemort just smirked, "Now Harry, and where would be the fun in that?"

"Me, dead? Like finally. You always seemed to find that funny before! What? Is my impending death somehow diminishing the funny-factor in this?"

"Really Harry, with a tongue like that it's really a wonder how you've gotten this far, I do wonder…"

"Really, 'cause if I remember correctly you were there a couple of times. I can give you a reminder if you need?"

At that Voldemort seemed to lose his patience and snapped. "Just pick one damn potion, already! I've more things to do! Ruling the world and all! I've plans for August!"

At that Harry just grinned and muttered "Language…"

Good, he had gotten a rise out of his enemy, which meant he wasn't the only one going through the trials here, good.

That somehow made him feel better, not that it mattered very much truly, but still knowing he wasn't just another death in the big Lord's life, as it had seemed from the moment Voldemort had stepped into the room, made him feel just a tiny bitsy bit better.

Now on to the choosing. Not telling him the effects of the third potion was a master's touch. Quite genial, he couldn't pick based on 'wanting that' or 'not wanting that'. It came down to the choice he had thought of already before, life or death, excluding, obviously, the muggle thing. Not that there was anything that assured him that the third vial wasn't simply a fancier poison and wouldn't kill him either way, but he doubted it.

Not that it mattered either; he wasn't supposed to chose with life as an option, but merely with the possibility of it.

The mere choosing, in fact, was an act of cowardice, or could be seen as such. It wasn't for Harry though, and he wasn't having such a hard time choosing because he was scared of death.

No, he was taking all this time and thinking all his thoughts, simply because he had already made his choice on an instinctive level and was trying to come to terms with it.

I once asked someone what freedom of choice was, and got the funniest response. As it happens it comes as a funny coincidence that that same definition was exactly the conclusion Harry got the precise moment before he picked one of the bottles:

"Freedom of choice is that you can make the decision to do whatever you want. Even if it isn't what you should do, if it isn't what others expect of you, even if it is a bad decision, or if you may be punished for it, you still had the freedom to make that choice."

And as he drank the potion he had picked he thought gingerly, "…it was my choice, and that's all that matters…"

And the pearly white liquid continued on its merry way down his throat.

Leaving us to wonder, as Voldemort often did in the many months following these events, if Harry had known that it was a 'memory potion' and that it would erase a fairly large portion of his memories, would he have still made that same choice?

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A/N: really sorry about the delay in this chapter, promise the next one will be much faster; also it will finally have some decent action!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Some important advance to this story line! Finally! but if you really want to ensure I will update faster, well then you just have to press the pretty button bellow… then again, freedom of choice you know? XD oh! And spoilers for whoever gets the "I've plans for august" comment!