Harry, perhaps oddly, has gone slightly red. "I know not what I was."

(As he's thought about it more-- and he does think, sometimes!-- he thinks he was Monmouth somehow, and yet still himself. But to have had any of that other Harry in himself is a faintly disturbing thought. ...and that's not even starting on how things were with Feuilly, how they could be the same and yet he could conceive of them so entirely differently.)

"But whoe'er I was, I did return into England, and when I woke again to myself, the sword remained." He pauses. "And the dogs."