The Last Temptation of Harry Potter

Chapter 2: The Crossroads

"I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees

I went to the crossroad, fell down on my knees

Asked the Lord above, "Have mercy, now, save poor Bob if you please."

Robert Johnson

Bob Dylan once sang Hard Rain A-Gonna Fall. Harry suspected this was that rain. It was hailing down upon the thin roof like bullets while the sound of thunder shook all of Private Drive. Once the rain turned to hail, The Dursleys attempted to cram themselves into Harry's unused cupboard while Harry remained in his room, staring up at the ceiling. Neither gave the other a moment's thought. They were all past the point of caring. If it weren't for the prophecy, Harry wouldn't have minded if the entire house collapsed, ending his suffering.

Harry wasn't oblivious to the storm, but a far greater one was raging in his heart. The Futility of his task weighed heavy on his mind. Killing the Dark Lord was impossible. The only person Harry succeeded in killing was his Godfather, whose loss grew harder to bear with every passing hour. The grief was suffocating. If only that were all that weighed on his mind.

He had the nightmare again. It started with Hermione collapsing from Dolohov's curse. Only this time, she was not breathing and were eyes were wide and empty, as they were when she had been petrified. Harry tried to wake her, growing increasingly desperate as his cries turned to screams. Pain worse than a thousand torture curses tore his heart to shreds. Harry wished he was dead.

Then a voice would whisper Harry's name, and he would look up to see a pair of red eyes. The red eyes always awoke him from his nightmares, covered in sweat, trembling with tears streaming down his face.

When he first woke from the nightmare, Harry had written a messy letter to Hermione to make sure she was alright and apologizing for nearly getting her killed. But, unfortunately, Hermione did not write back. More than likely, she wasn't allowed, but when Hedwig returned, she carried only a cross necklace. Harry's spirit grew heavy with worry as he held the chain to his heart, crying in silence.

Harry had not removed the necklace from his neck since he'd put it on. Hermione had worn it since her 4th year at Hogwarts. It had been her grandmother's until she passed at the tender age of 92. The necklace was nothing special. Just a simple cross hung from his neck. Harry wasn't religious, nor was Hermione, who found the Wizarding world's aversion to Muggle theology a surprising relief. Yet Harry found the necklace eased his pain. It confirmed that Hermione did not blame him for what happened.

Yet it did not quell the fear from his heart. Harry did not know her sending him the necklace wasn't an ill omen. Hermione was severely injured fighting by his side, and though she insisted she was okay, he saw the pain in her eyes. Harry grimaced as he clutched the cross in his fist. Despite the number of people Harry had lost, the thought of losing Hermione was unbearable.

Of course, it wasn't just the cross that consumed Harry's mind.

Nor was it the cross that Harry was tenderly caressing, staring long into the night when seep alluded him. Harry couldn't explain the stupid chocolate frog card had captivated him so. Harry had a strange fascination for the women on the cover, which had nothing to do with his teenage hormones. It was her eyes that held Harry's will captive. Yellow eyes, the blackest eyes,

Harry tried to lock the card away, yet he could not sleep without it. He could barely sleep with it. Most concerning of all was when Harry flushed the card down the toilet. As loathed as he was to part from Luna's gift, his obsession over the old dark lord was a distraction from the present. Yet when he returned to his room, he found Morgana's card waiting for him underneath his scrawny pillow.