Scar
The scar had not pained Harry for nineteen years. All was well.
Harry sat up in bed, quite suddenly, wondering what had woken him. Ginny lay beside him, asleep and still managing to remain beautiful. He glanced around. The rebuilt house at Godric's Hollow was silent. But Harry had woken as suddenly as if someone had drummed the new Weird Sisters album at full volume next to him. So why had he woken up?
He slid off the bed and found his glasses. Striding out of the room, he looked back at his wife's immaculate body. Harry looked in on each of his children as he went to the bathroom. Albus was sleeping soundly, as was Lily. James would not stay still in his sleep, as was the norm. With his wand, he lit the candles in the bathroom and stared into the mirror. He was vaguely thinking of visiting Ron and Hermione when he knew. He knew what had woken him. He knew exactly why and he knew exactly what it felt like.
There was a terrible pain in his scar.
This had not happened for nineteen years.
The connection had re-opened.
Lord Voldemort was back