The eyes opened.
Harry yelped. The eyes that stared back at him were more like glowing pools of water than eyes, with a light underneath them and a bright green color. They looked like his, if his had no pupil and glowed.
"Welcome, child," the mouth breathed.
"Er. Hello?"
"Welcome to Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, the home of your godfather. Harry Potter, be welcome in the home of the Black family."
"I don't know who they are," Harry said, feeling a little disappointed. He'd hoped that the freakish things happening around him meant that his own freaky family was still alive and waiting to welcome him, but it didn't seem like that.
"They are your godfather's family."
"What's a godfather?"
The face paused for a moment as though not prepared for the question. Harry could feel his own face burn a little. He knew he was uneducated compared to most people, but that was partially because it was hard to read in the cupboard and Dudley would rip his books up anyway.
"He is someone sworn to protect you," the face said at last. "Sworn on his magic. You are aware that you have magic, child?"
"I just thought I was a freak."
The face made a horrible grinding sound like wind turning over stones. "Never use that word to refer to yourself! You are a proud child of the House of Black, and this is your home. This is your bedroom. You will catch food for yourself within these walls."