'We cannot solve our problems with the same thinking we used when we created them.'
~Albert Einstein

"GRYFFINDOR!"

The hall erupted in cheers, the lions roaring with pride as a new one was brought into their midst. Harry felt the hat being taken off his head, the nudge from McGonagall towards the table that was rejoicing the loudest. He saw the delighted look of Ron and Hermione, surprise lingering beneath their happy tones. The rest of the sorting went by smoothly, at one point he thought the hat was singing but dismissed it, his mind too busy feasting on the what had happened to pay much attention.

He had become a lion, a Gryffindor, the very thing his father detested.

A part of him wanted to credit it to his acting, his performance having been so convincing that it had tricked the magical head wear. He desperately wanted this part to win, but he had been raised to ignore wishful thinking and that was exactly what that solution was. No, to him it backed up even more what he had sensed on the train. He was changing, mentally becoming like them. Scanning his pale fingers he never noticed any difference. There was no gaping sign, evidence of his changing allegiance. He knew he was being stupid, there would be no physical manifestations of his mind's troubles. Part of him felt alien though, that he had sprouted scales or some other abnormality.

Looking up, he nibbled at his food, not even able to remember what he had piled on his plate. Ron was chatting animatedly to Hermione, flecks of food firing from his mouth that he could see she was trying to ignore. The chatter at the table was almost deafening, the babble incomprehensible to his ears. It was quite simple:

He was out of his depth, and he hated it.

He was accustomed to silence at dinnertime, there was no small talk and there was absolutely no noise of this level. His father liked his peace, as did Harry. Being here he felt akin to a deer in headlights, not knowing what to expect and feeling incapable of adapting. He normally was able to anticipate things, but here everyone was so rash that this was rendered redundant, all his traits he had accumulated over the years useless.

Harry wondered how his father would react to his heir being in Gryffindor. He would probably be tortured, his allegiance needing to be proved to the Dark all over again. He hadn't forgotten what happened last time his loyalties had been held in suspicion.

"Harry," his father's voice was like honey intermixed with poison. The hairs on the back of Harry's neck stood on edge. He knew this wasn't good. This was his first Death Eater meeting, it was only to be expected that he make a mistake. This however, did not get rid of the animalistic 'fight or flight' response.

The rest of the Death Eaters filed out, glancing at him, their expressions ranging from pitying to smug. He would crucio the smug ones later.

"What is it father?" asked Harry, once they were alone. Voldemort sat on his customary throne, higher up than the Death Eaters. It was intimidating and the grey stone wall did nothing to ease his discomfort. Normally he felt safe in here. Not today.

"How dare you disrespect me like that in front of them," hissed his father, his eyes flashing.

"I am sorry that I offended you. Please tell me my flaw so I can avoid it in the future," Harry looked at his feet, trying to show subservience.

The crucio hit him quickly, stunning him and making him fall to his knees. He felt as if his bones were twisting, reaching breaking point but not shattering, going past what he thought was the extreme and into a whole different realm. His skin was on fire, boiling his blood that raged through his veins, infecting other areas. He knew he should be used to this. It wasn't the first time this had happened, the difference was the other times he had been prepared.

The curse was lifted. A brief reprieve.

"Do not call me father in front of them. I am your Lord," sneered Voldemort, raising his wand arm again. The pain was back but this time he was expecting it. Opening his eyes, he blinked through the haze, seeing past the agony. His father was tall, his robes billowed as his magic swirled around him. His eyes were shining, manically almost but all Harry saw was magnificence. The way he just radiated power, it was infectious and he wanted to feel it for himself.

And then it was over, his father was pulling himself up, half supporting him to the steps. Relief flooded his body as his father murmured healing spells in his ear.

"I am sorry I had to do that Harry. Do not forget this as I will regret having to do it again," said Voldemort, straightening himself up.

Taking a sip of Pumpkin juice Harry tried not to wrinkle his nose. His father was right, he had not forgotten it. The two hour session he'd had with Wormtail had also dealt with the residual after affects that spells couldn't cure.

"Harry?" he managed to discern Ron's voice from the babble.

"Yes?"

"Are you okay?" asked Hermione, her brown eyes filled with worry.

"Yes, I'm fine," replied Harry, confused slightly by them picking up his melancholy mood. He never expected Gryffindor's to be able to read these things, preferring rowdiness to analysis of body language.

"You just seemed a bit out of it there mate," said Ron, concern also flooding into his voice.

"Its just a bit of a change," he replied, looking around the hall to show what he meant.

"I felt like that when I first came here," said Hermione, her eyes softening as she relived the memories of her first year. There was also sadness amidst the fondness that hindsight brought and Harry wondered what she was seeing.

"I'll get used to it," said Harry, noticing that they were now onto desert. Looking amongst the dishes his eyes quickly honed in on the treacle tart. Claiming a slice, he ate it with more gusto than anything else he had consumed that night. That is until her voice was registered by his senses.

"Harry, its good to see you're in Gryffindor," he glanced up and saw Ginny smiling at him before plopping down in the space next to him. Suddenly the room felt stifling and he found himself wishing he had taken off the robes, many of the students had deposited of them already.

"It certainly wasn't what I expected," said Harry truthfully, the first truth he had spoken that evening.

"Normally people don't get what they expect," said Ginny, biting into her strawberry cheesecake.

"Look at the Patil twins, Parvati is in Gryffindor whilst her sister Padma was in Ravenclaw," interjected Hermione.

"How does it decide though?" asked Harry.

"I asked dad that once. He said it was based more on personality, our core traits than how our minds work. Minds can change, we cannot change at the heart of our being," said Ron, the looks he got at this told Harry that this level of wisdom wasn't usual from the red head. However it also told him that he would have to watch him more carefully, random bursts of insightfulness were more dangerous in their unpredictability.

A small hand squeezing his arm made him jump. It felt as if warmth was shooting from this point, radiating out before ensconcing his whole being. This was different from last time, he felt light-headed but complete at the same time. It was... Strange. Strange wasn't good, it couldn't be good. Looking into her cinnamon eyes he realised why it felt so abnormal.

She understood.

He raised his mask, the easy smile slide from his face, hidden behind the wall of coldness. He knew it was unfair to her, but this had to stop. Her eyes met his empty, dark ones and widened before realisation dawned.

The contact ceased, he was free.

He let go of the breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. As he exhaled, his mind seemed to come back to itself, achieve some semblance of normalcy. He tried to ignore the fact that his heart was racing, that people were staring.

"Sorry, I'm not used to physical contact," to him the lie was feeble, but to the Gryffindor's it made perfect sense. To them he wasn't saying he was uncomfortable, he was just saying he wasn't used to it and would need time to accustom to it. Really he was just wanting her to back off, to leave him and allow himself to get back to being his father's son. He quickly squashed the objections to this, preferring for now to remain in denial. He would have to face it, but he wasn't ready, now was not the time.

Dumbledore stood up from the Staff Table, thankfully distracting him from his thoughts as the food vanished. "Now you are all fed and watered its time for bed. Don't stay up too late catching up, there will be no leniency for falling asleep during lessons tomorrow. Goodnight."

The sound of footsteps filled the hall, blending into one. Harry almost missed the chatter.

"Oh Harry, I almost forgot. As Head Girl, Professor McGonagall asked me to show you to the Common Room and make sure you get around alright. Is that okay?" Hermione looked genuinely elated to hold such a trivial title.

"Yes, that's fine," said Harry, saying a small goodbye to Ginny and following Ron and Hermione out of the hall.

"Gryffindor first years, follow me," yelled Hermione. A few minutes later a gaggle of pupils came up to them, Harry recognised a few from the boat trip. The trooped up the stairs, almost getting stuck on the third floor if a staircase hadn't came by to help them, before stopping in front of a portrait of a woman. She looked down at them, her warm features smiling happily at the sight of the new students.

"Fortis," Hermione announced and the portrait swung open, revealing the Common Room.

The first thing that hit Harry was the sheer abundance of red and gold. It was like there had been an explosion and the colours coated every surface they could reach. A fire crackled merrily in the hearth, the flames licking the grate as they devoured a log. Two armchairs and a settee surrounded it, with various tables and chairs littering the rest of the room. Two staircases were at the furthest end, one marked boys and the other girls. He let the first years go up first, their inane talk irritating him slightly but not enough to make them want to hurt them. He could understand their awe after all.

Hermione went up to her dormitory after Ron promised to show Harry where to go. Harry tried not to roll his eyes at this. For a seemingly clever girl, she seemed to think him as dependent as a baby on her. To his amusement he thought he heard Ron mutter something similar as they climbed the stairs.

After being introduced the other boys in their year, Harry quickly got changed before clambering into his bed. It was unusually comfortable and he felt his weary muscles relax slightly. The others muttered goodnight to him before closing their curtains and plunging the room into darkness. He did the same and laying back onto his pillows, he sighed, content to go into a dreamless sleep, too tired to worry about tomorrow. He felt almost normal, forgetting his mission for a moment as thoughts of the day swirled through his mind.

All feelings of normalcy were shattered however when his left arm tingled slightly, reminding him of his task.

A/N: Thank you for the feedback! I'm not too happy with this chapter, I've never particularly liked writing Great Hall scenes, so I hope its satisfactory. Sorry for the wait, life intervened and I was focusing on finishing another story. I want to make it clear that he isn't changing, he's more conflicted with being introduced to ideals different from the ones he has been raised with and its confusing him, Ginny isn't helping either ;)

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Harry Potter.

I apologise for any spelling and/or grammar mistakes contained within this chapter.

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