He spent the long train ride to Hogwarts psyching himself up. He could do this. It would be weird, but it would be fine. He was adaptable. The great hall would still be the same. Gryffindor tower would still be the same. All he had to do was making it through being sorted, endure dinner, and then he’d be falling asleep in his comfortable, crimson clad four poster bed, in the same tower he’d spent the last four years in. He could do this.