"But my seer dreams always come true, you know that, so there must be something to this--"
"In case it's slipped your feeble mind, I am not going to unadopt you! Though you may well wish I had if you insist on going on about Lucius like this!"
"All right, so it's not too likely Malfoy's changed his stripes," Harry admitted, rubbing his temples. "What if it was the other way around, and it wasn't him in France. Say, he was here trying to expel Draco as you witnessed, and somebody was in France impersonating him. You know, on Polyjuice."
"Yes, I do know about Polyjuice," Snape snidely put in. "How much do you know? Or, to put it another way, when you were wandering the Slytherin common room a few years back pretending to be Crabbe--or were you Goyle?--just how easy did you find it to walk in another person's body? Did you feel you could copy the needed mannerisms in any remotely convincing way, or speak with the right intonations and lexicon even though you possessed the right voice?"
Harry stared. "You knew? You never said, you didn't take points, you just let us get away with it?"
"I hardly think coughing up fur balls constitutes getting away with much. My one regret is not getting to see the catwoman in person. But your utter idiocy years ago hardly matters to me now, Potter, though I'd hope your realize from this that I was never as stupid as you believed--"
"I've never once thought of you as stupid!"
"The point," Snape interrupted, "is the Polyjuice does nothing to help one act the part of another. It's a costume, nothing more. How successful was my impersonation of Lupin? Be honest. Suppose Dumbledore hadn't let you in on the deception. How long would you have needed to realize I wasn't in fact the werewolf?"
"Don't call him that," Harry muttered. "Um, I don't know. Maybe five minutes." When Snape scowled, Harry blurted, "Well, you said to be honest! I know Remus, is all. I could tell the difference."
"And Lucius Malfoy, in your dream. Didn't he seem exactly the way you picture him? Down to the last mannerism, the last detail?"
Harry blinked. "Well, yeah. But if that means it couldn't have been somebody else on Polyjuice, then it means it was really him, and we're back to wondering why he's suddenly gone good!"
"No, what it means, you young fool, is that he matches your impressions perfectly because it is your subconscious that conjured him! Of course he appears exactly as he should, Harry! He's the product of your memories. Had you in fact seen someone else on Polyjuice, 'Lucius' would be behaving distinctly strangely, I do assure you."
"All right, all right, the Polyjuice is out," Harry raggedly admitted. "And I can't believe he's reformed, not really. Though I sort of want to, I guess, for Draco's sake. And that's just sick, it is. 'Cause what I really ought to want is him dead and buried. Well, part of me wants that too, I guess, but then I think of Draco and the whole feeling sort of gets twisted up. Actually," he slowly admitted, "it was easier to hate Lucius when I hated Draco too. Maybe that's why I fought so hard not to trust him, you know? I probably knew it would make everything a lot more complicated." Harry frowned, then. "But how did Lucius strike you? I mean, as himself?"
"No," Snape announced. "One thing was wrong. One thing more that proves we are discussing a figment of your mind, and not the actual man. Lucius Malfoy, Harry, speaks absolutely flawless French. Yet you dream of him in France, speaking to French wizards, but conducting the entire conversation in English, even though their command of it was obviously lacking in several regards? If you really dreamed the past, why wasn't Lucius speaking French as is his custom whenever he crosses the Channel?"
"Uh, because I don't know any French?" Harry hazarded a guess.
"A seer dream would not take that into account. You would have heard exactly what was said, though you would have understood nothing. But as your own mind, not any psychic force, was creating the images and sounds in the dream, you had recourse only to languages you know. Though, I would expect your French extends to oui and monsieur, correct? Exactly the words scattered amid all the English. Amazing, isn't it? Not to mention that your idea of French people appears to include some very hackneyed bad accents--"
"All right, you're right!" Harry conceded. "Obviously the dream wasn't real at all. Well, not that part, anyway. And if not that part, then not the other, either, I suppose. But... listen, if what was really going on was that I went to sleep sorry for Draco and wishing something good for him, then why did I end up dreaming he was going to die?"
"I expect you'll know the answer to that once your memories are back in place."
Harry closed his eyes and braced himself. "Do it, then. I'm ready." And he thought he was, but it was still a shock, as Snape had said, to feel the experience of that dream rushing back into his mind to take up residence. He staggered slightly, then righted himself. And then he gave a long sigh and said, "Oh. So that's it. Yeah, I would be thinking that. I've been thinking it a lot, actually. And it makes perfect sense."
"It being, specifically?" Snape sounded a bit impatient.
Flushing a little bit, Harry admitted, "Um, well I have to move up to the Tower pretty soon, and this'll sound stupid after all the complaining I used to do about him, but I'm going to miss Draco. I mean, I'll visit like I promised but it won't be the same, and it's a bit like losing a brother just when I've finally got one, that's all."
"And you always lose people," Snape echoed his own words back to him. "Or so you believe."
"Yeah," Harry sighed. "So what are we going to do, then? I mean, the dream probably wasn't true in the least, I grant you that. But just in case, shouldn't we warn Draco? He can't get shoved off the Owlery if he doesn't leave here, after all, and if he knows he might get killed going out, he'll stay where he belongs..."
"Oh, warn him by all means," Snape announced in a hard tone, waving a sarcastic hand toward the door as though urging him to it. "And when he asks how you know your dream to be prophetic, do be sure to explain that you always dream a factual past, and go right on to taunt him with the prospect of his father doing something decent for once in his miserable existence!"
"I don't have to tell Draco about that part," Harry weakly protested.
"No? How are you going to prove to him that he is indeed in danger, then?"
"I'll, er, misdirect him a bit, I guess," Harry decided. When Snape scoffed out loud, the boy protested, "I can keep a secret--"
"Not ten hours ago you proved the opposite! Do not get me started on what I think of your having decided, despite my clear disapprobation, to tell him about your birth prophecy!" Curling a lip, Snape mercilessly went on, "I know you, Potter. You aren't nearly Slytherin enough to keep up a lie when someone you care about begins pressing you for details. If I liked, I could make you tell me here and now just exactly what you thought you were doing with that Polyjuice all those years ago!"
Probably true, Harry reflected, but still, he objected, "I kept my promise not to tell Ron or Hermione about my operation until it was safe to talk, you know!"
"But you didn't misdirect them, which is what this situation will require. You refused to speak of it, and to their credit, they didn't press you. Draco will press you for details about your dream. Who wouldn't, after being told their own death has been forecast? And will you be able to sustain a lie?"