The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.

...until he woke up from a terrible dream- one he wasn't sure was a nightmare or a good type of dream, the kind that leaves you feeling warm and rosy when you wake up. He checked his watch: 12:34 in the morning. He turned over, fell back asleep, and dreamed of an enchanted ring and a small hobbit named Bilbo Baggins.