"So," he prompted when, after five minutes, Remus had yet to say another thing. "Let's talk about my magic. Why do you think it's only coming back in three respects? Snape feels that might be significant."
"Parseltongue, Occlumency, and divining dreams." Remus nodded. "Severus is right; it's odd that only those three manifestations of your powers remain. No charms, no spells, nothing that requires a wand . . ."
"Maybe I need a new wand?" Harry wondered out loud. "Though it's hard to see why I would. And I'd be afraid to use any other wand, anyway, now that I know mine and Voldemort's cancel each other out." He sighed. "Anyway, I found an old school wand of Sirius', down in the cellar. It didn't work for me, either."
Remus thought about that for a moment. "Have you had other divining dreams?"
"Only every day," Harry drawled. "Or night, that is, ever since I've felt well enough to stay up all day long. You know what, though? I've noticed a distinct pattern to them. They're always in two parts, and the first part is always about the past. And as the days go by, I'm going ever deeper into the past in those dreams." He paused a moment, counting on his fingers, and detailed, "First it was Kreacher, then I saw Snape cutting your hair for the Polyjuice. And in the days since, I've seen the Slytherins plotting out some Quidditch cheats, and Dumbledore hiring Aran for the Defence job, and Hogwarts being respelled over the summer . . . things like that. It's all fairly innocuous, except for Kreacher where it started."
"And you're sure that everything you've dreamed is true?"
"Well, a couple of days after the Quidditch dream, Ron mentioned in a letter some things that confirmed what I'd seen. And I asked Snape about the respelling; he seemed absolutely gobsmacked that my dream had been so . . . comprehensive and detailed, he put it. I don't know about Aran getting his robes eaten by Dumbledore's spiral staircase, but I suspect that's true as well."
Remus frowned as he settled himself back into bed. "What about the second part of each dream, Harry? Any patterns there?"
"That's where things get more confusing," Harry confessed. "I mean, I think there is one, but I haven't been able to figure it out. I get impressions that are sort of random. The Dursley house destroyed, okay, I told you that. Then it was just a clearing in the forest, nobody around, but it had a creepy atmosphere, I can tell you that. The next time I saw a small stone room, empty, almost claustrophobic, though it made me feel really thirsty, of all things."
"What else?"
"Hmm," Harry had to stop and think, not because he didn't remember, but because he really didn't know how to put things into words. At least, not these things. "I've been in the hospital wing at Hogwarts, wracked with pain. I couldn't see, but I knew it from the smell . . ." Remus smiled, and Harry figured that a werewolf would know what he meant. "And I was screaming and screaming for Snape. Anyone else came near me, I flailed, but at the same time I felt like I needed only him, just the smell of him made me positively nauseous." He paused. "Weird, huh?"
"Oh, I wouldn't say so," Remus denied. "Anything else?"
"Um, yes, but it just gets weirder. I'm down in the Hogwarts dungeons, living there instead of in the Tower, and Ron and Hermione come to visit me. Hmm, I can see again in that one. Ron says something derogatory about Slytherins, and I hit him--"
"With a hex?" Remus sounded excited.
"No, with my fist. Learned it from Hermione; she's decked Malfoy a couple of times." Harry paused, trying to recall more. "Oh, and then there's this one where Malfoy calls me his brother, and I laugh. Now if that's not sick, I don't know what is."
"Would you like to hear my analysis of your dreams?"
Surprised that Remus had asked, Harry turned over more towards him. "Does it start with you're in a dark place, emotionally?"
"I take it you don't want to hear."
"No, no, I do," Harry decided. "Might as well. Maybe I am in a dark place, like you said. I didn't think so at the time, but these dreams, especially the parts about me, aren't exactly sweetness and light."
"That's the first thing I noticed," Remus commented, pushing up to lean against his headboard. "The second part of each dream is about you."
"Except for Privet Drive."
"You don't think images of Privet Drive are about you, Harry?"
"Hmm. Maybe they are."
"Now, you're likely right about the first part of each dream divining the past. Interesting power, especially as I don't believe you've really possessed it before."
"You've seen my O.W.L. scores, too? Or Snape told you?"
"Intuition," Remus corrected. "Based on the fact that the true gift of second sight is exceedingly rare. I would say," he continued, "that you're divining the past for one reason only: to force you to understand that these are no mere dreams. They are visions, rather, and your powers are telling you to take them seriously."
"Like it matters if I know that Professor Aran is too dumb to ride Dumbledore's staircase without getting his robes caught and ripped to shreds!" Harry couldn't help it, he laughed. "And I don't need visions to know that Slytherins cheat like mad, Remus."
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"Those things don't matter, you're right. They exist as markers only, so that you will realise the other parts of your dream need paying attention to. The parts about you, Harry."
Harry plumped his pillow. "All right, I understand. So what of those parts? Do you see a pattern in them, somewhere, other than the fact that they mostly concern me?"
"They reflect your ambivalence," Remus told him, brown eyes steady. "About many things."
Harry had a feeling he wasn't going to like Remus' interpretation. "Go on," he said darkly, staring right back.
Remus abruptly shut off his light, though he winced as he used magic to dispel the magical glow emanating from the lamp. "You hate the Dursley house, but you've come to have confused feelings about your cousin, as I understand. So you dream of the house being crushed, but not with him in it."
"Yes . . . "
"You feel trapped here. You want out, but you know it isn't wise. You dream of stone rooms, walls closing you in, making you thirst for what you can't have, yet when you dream of clearings, an image of apparent freedom, the image strikes you as creepy."
Harry raised an eyebrow, rather impressed. He did both hate and not hate Dudley, these days. He did feel trapped, but realised that leaving could be even worse. "Go on," he quietly replied.
Remus took a deep breath, then plunged on. "Then there's Severus. Years of distrust and hate between you. More years than you've been alive, on his part. But now you're both managing to build . . . a friendship of sorts. You're ambivalent about that. I think you like him now, at least sometimes, so you dream of calling for him. But you fear you're being blind, so you dream that you cannot see. He makes you feel sick because no matter your feelings now, you can't help but remember all the misery he's caused you."
"He's out causing misery right now," Harry muttered, hating the thought. He couldn't bear to ponder it, to visualize what the man might be doing. "All right, what else?" he asked Remus. "Don't tell me I'm ambivalent about Malfoy, too, because I know that's not the case. He's a right bastard, just like his evil father."
"I wouldn't say you're ambivalent about Draco, but about yourself. You dream of hitting Ron because he insults the Slytherins, and of a Slytherin calling you a brother. I would say that Draco in your dream is representative of the house into which you were very nearly sorted."
"Now I know it had to be Snape who told you that."