Harry's only explanation was that he had snapped. How could he not have? After all, The Daily Prophet had been announcing it to the whole wizarding world all year on an almost daily basis. Maybe Rita Skeeter hadn't been so far from the truth after all. Though it could have been seeing his godfather, Sirius be killed by a curtain just moments ago that did it.
Yes, that must be it. The grief from his godfather's unfortunate demise was just too much and had caused him to become delusional. After all, he couldn't really be staring at his dead father, who was standing before him, quite alive, if not a little angry looking.
On second thought, maybe he was dead. He did vaguely remember running after Sirius, trying to catch him before he fell into the veil. That couldn't be right though. If he had been killed falling through the veil surely James would be looking at him with happy recognition? No, it was clear he was insane.
James, or perhaps the ministry worker whose Harry's subconscious had decided to give the role of his dead father to, was starting to become impatient with Harry's blank stare and lack of response. He sat across from Harry in what could only be an interrogation room, with dull white walls and a suspicious looking mirror.
"OK, I'm going to ask you one last time and you're going to answer me. What were you doing in the Department of Mysteries without authorisation?" James asked.
Harry stared at 'James', his eyes holding a bit more clarity as he focused on the outward world. After a pause Harry decided it would be best if he answered his interrogator. After all, he had to occupy his time somehow until he snapped back to reality.
"I was in the Department of Mysteries trying to retrieve a prophecy and save my godfather from his untimely death" Harry stated blandly.
"Where is your godfather then?"
"He's dead. Though I'm sure I'll see him soon" Harry remarked, convinced his mind would probably conjure up a Sirius to comfort his delusional mind.
"Are you dying?" asked James, confused.
"No, just a bit mentally insecure"
"Oh, what's your name kid?"
"Harry, Harry Potter" Harry recited obediently.
"Harry Potter is dead!" James almost yelled, his eyes flaring violently.
"Well then you must be dead as well because I am quite certain that my name is Harry Potter"
"I'm not dead and you're not Harry Potter. Now answer the question properly before I call for a psych consult and have you thrown in the loony bin. You've already admitted you're mentally unwell" James threatened.
Harry was silent, contemplating his options. Though he was sure he was crazy, he wasn't sure he wanted to be poked, prodded and asked how he felt about things by strange people in white coats. Besides, after all that had happened in his life, Harry was quite certain he deserved a vacation, even if it was in his own head. So Harry lied.