Dark creature. Monster. Beast. All of those words that can be used to describe him now. Harry almost could not believe what had happened to him. The unspeakable has happened. THe savior. Light hero. The chosen one. Harry Potter is now classified as a dark creature. What started off as a normal day has descended into a madness that is reserved for horror novels. Harry almost could not process what has happened in the past 24 hours. The day started with classes. Monotony. He showed up to class, pretended to be interested and got nagged by Hermione to pay attention. He had lost his quill at lunch but it was such a minor and benign detail that his brain for some reason seemed to linger on it. Maybe he is in shock? How would he even know to begin with?

Right. His day...well it started off in Transfiguration which might have been interesting enough if it wasn't for the fact that they were focused on the theory regarding transfiguring food. What kind of idiot would eat something that was once inorganic? If it was a book, a mug, or even a quill why would you eat it? Doesn't it reason that if it was once not food it probably won't be the same as food? It seems like common sense but considering the McGonagall has been covering the theory for the past two week maybe it wasn't as obvious as he thought it to be. Harry had been bored out of his mind and Ron looked like he wanted to stab himself in the eye to get out of class. Of course, Hermione, like always, was scribbling away like some kind of maniac. Harry wondered what she was even writing, McGonagall was talking about the same thing that she has been for the past hour but in greater and greater detail. Harry shook his head. No matter if Hermione knew the information word for word, she was always afraid that she was going to miss something. Harry almost wished that he had the same drive as she did; however, he didn't think that he could work with the same fervor that Hermione seemed to show for everything. Hermione was hard working and hyper focused in every class for every assignment, little or small. If Harry tried to match her energy, he was sure that he would collapse of exhaustion but that was Hermione. When the class finally let them free, Harry, Ron, and Hermione headed to the Great Hall. They navigated the halls with the ease that only someone who had stared and studied the Marauder's Map could. Harry had stared at that map for hours trying to grasp at any connection that he had to his father, after all any connection gained is a connection that brings him closer to his parents which he was so desperate for.

During lunch, Hermione was glancing back at the head table. She seemed confused but didn't say anything for a few minutes. "Harry? Have you Professor Snape at all today?"

Harry looked up and was lightened by what he saw. "Snape is still gone? I'm happy to be away from that snake but I will admit that it is weird for him to miss both breakfast and lunch." Harry ignored Hermione's token response of insisting that he call him Professor Snape but Harry will call him Professor when he acts like it. His hatred for him was known throughout the school and was only matched by the hatred that Snape had for him. In hindsight, the fact that Snape was missing was red flag number one. There were more minor ones but this was the biggest.

The Golden Trio head a free period together, in a rare struck of luck, and so they headed to a room that Fred and George showed Harry before they left. It was hidden in the third floor corridor and was put there after the philosopher's stone fiasco. The twins thought it was put there by the castle because it wasn't always there but showed up one day when they were running away from a professor in the middle of the night. It wasn't protected by a password but they thought that only people who needed it or knew about it could find it. It was hidden behind a tapestry and had a long staircase that led to a round room. The room had windows that seemed to outlook a tower but considering it was in the middle of the school, they had all dismissed it as a form of enchantment or illusion that mirrored the outside. It was simple with a couch, four or five armchairs, depending on the day, and had a soft carpet that made Harry want to sink his toes into the soft fabric. Strangely enough, the room did not seem to favor any of the houses and was decorated in neutral brown colors. Hermione went on and on that it might have been a place for all four founders to relax without having to worry about what belonged to who. Afterall, who would want to pick a color and have everything in their lives dominated by it.

Hermione pulled out a piece of parchment and started working on the essay that Professor McGonagall had assigned while Ron pulled out his Wizard's chess and began getting ready to play. Harry thought about playing with Ron but then decided to take out his potion's textbook. Harry had begun a newfound appreciation of potions ever since Snape had stopped teaching and the Slughorn fellow took over. Slughorn was clearly looking for talented and famous wizards but Harry hadn't minded as much as he thought he would. Slughorn was alright and dropped tidbits of his mother that he hadn't known about. Everyone always told him about his father and it was nice to hear about his mother from a professor who wasn't obsessed about James Potter. Don't get him wrong, Harry loved hearing about both his parents but he always heard about his father and never enough about his mother. Slughorn was extra impressed by the potions that Harry had been brewing with the help of the advice of the half-blooded prince. Harry was intrigued by the name and wanted to know who it was but didn't care enough to actually ask anyone about it. What difference would it make if it was a nobody or if it was the greatest potion master to ever live? When it came down to it, the advice and directions were dead useful and Harry wouldn't ignore its suggestions for as long as they worked.

Hermione had glanced over in disapproval over the book but they had long stopped their bickering over the book. Harry half thought that Hermione just hated that the actual potions textbook was not nearly as helpful as the annotations in his book.

They worked through their free periods and then headed to charms. Charms was a nice enough class but Harry wasn't nearly as gifted in this class as he was in transfiguration. Professor Flitwick was a good teacher but he was also covering theory this week. The professors switched between theory and practicals every few weeks and Harry always dreaded the weeks where it was almost purely theory. Harry had tried to focus on class but his mind drifted to Dumbledore. Dumbledore had shown him memories this semester and he kept thinking about what he had seen. Although there was no doubt in his mind that Lord Voldemort was horrible and needed to die, he had his doubts about a young Tom Riddle. The muggles were always arguing about the importance of nature versus nurture and he thought this was a good example of it. Was Tom Riddle's nature evil or was his environment forcing him away from being good? Harry remembered stories about the horrible orphanages that his aunt and uncle told him when he was younger, though maybe that was just to scare him from telling anyone about his cupboard under the stairs. Riddle seemed really smart and Harry was sure that he had probably resented everything that had led him to be at an orphanage and then going to Hogwarts and being sorted into Slytherin, which was incredibly prejudiced against anyone who was perceived to be a muggleborn, probably did not help his situation at all.

Harry was sure that he could probably go back and forth over whether Tom Riddle was always evil or turned evil but it didn't really matter because the reality was that Harry Potter had to defeat him. That was another thought that was on his mind often enough: Horcruxes. The very nature of them seemed horrible and if the one that Dumbledore and he were to go after later today was as horrible as the diary, Harry dreaded the thought. The diary almost killed him and he would have to be crazy to think that destroying the next one is going to be any easier. It seemed impossible but if he created seven like Dumbledore and he thought that he did then it had to be done. Any person that was crazy enough to split their soul that many times was surely insane.

Charms finished with little fanfare but there was an inescapable feeling that something was going to go wrong. Harry, at the time, dismissed it as a feeling about Horcruxe hunting and ignored it. Red flag number two. Harry should have known to always trust his feelings because they were almost always right. Harry would never forget that again.