Harry yawned awake. It was early; the light still dim. He looked around the room, which was odd. He could see. Without his glasses. That was new. He blinked, and he could feel something on his eyes, contacts? When had he gotten contacts? He scrubbed his face, and he felt the familiar lumps and bumps of the scar on his forehead. He opened his eyes, still clear but crusty. He reached over to the side table beside his bed for his wand. Neither the table nor his wand was there. He shifted a bit, and he could see that the table most of the tables and some chairs had been knocked over.  Had there been a fight? Is that why I can’t remember anything?  Pondering could wait; he needed the loo, urgently.  