Harry's scar hurt again that night. Again, he did not dream. He only felt it. He didn't quite know why, but it felt like someone had placed a red hot brand on his forehead. When he went to wash his face, his forehead was warm to the touch. His scar was warm.

"I should open a window." He muttered to himself before wandering downstairs to do homework for the second morning in a row.

His schedule did not change once that week. From Monday on, he would wake early from his scar, do his homework, go to classes, meet Cho in the library so they could help each other with homework, then after dinner, he would go to his private lessons.

Every day, his scar got worse. When he woke up on Friday morning, his scar hurt more than ever before. He bit down on his pillow to stop the pain, but it did nothing. He smelled burning. He stumbled to the washbasin to wash his face, his eyes tearing up from the pain. When he touched his hand to his forehead, though, he pulled away quickly. Yesterday, his scar had been hot, today, it was burning to the touch. He splashed cold water on his face and heard a sizzle. He looked up at the mirror and saw something unnerving: the water, which he had just splashed on his face, was gone, replaced by steam rising off of his now bright red scar.

Harry was not waiting to tell Dumbledore about this. He didn't care that it was four thirty in the morning, he needed to talk to the headmaster. He didn't bother to change out of his pyjamas, he just slipped on his shoes and his glasses and ran out of the common room.

"Acid lolly." He panted when he reached the gargoyles in front of Dumbledore's office. They sprang up and stepped out of his way, revealing the tall winding staircase. Harry leapt up the stairs three at a time, and knocked as hard as he could on the door.

No answer. He knocked again, loudly. Finally, he heard footsteps on the other side of the door, and Dumbledore appeared, wearing a nightcap and pyjamas, holding his wand in one hand.

"Harry," he said sternly, "come in."

Harry stepped into the room. With a flick of Dumbledore's wand, the lamps in the room flickered and lit. "What is it?" Dumbledore asked, gesturing for Harry to sit down.

"It's my scar, Professor." Harry said. He wanted to push his hand into his forehead to stop the pain, but he knew that he would only burn himself. "I woke up with it hurting every day this week. On Monday, it was warm. It's gotten warmer every day. Today, it is burning. I tried to wash my face, but the water turned to steam. I burned my hand on it when I touched it."

Dumbledore nodded. "Did you dream?"

Harry shook his head. "That's the thing. Not a dream, not a feeling of Voldemort at all. It just hurts."

Harry put his head down and winced as a new surge of pain rushed through his brain. Dumbledore rose. "Harry, I am going to send you to Madame Pomfrey. Tell her to give you a large quantity of ice. You will need to change it often, but it should help you. I have some people I need to speak to. You will stay in the hospital wing all day, please. I will have Mr. Weasley and Miss Granger notified. Continue to ice it until the pain recedes. Madame Pomfrey will know what to do after that."

Harry nodded and stumbled out of the room. "Thank you, Professor." He said. He quickly made his way down to the hospital wing. Madame Pomfrey was waiting for him with ice.

"One of the paintings told me, Potter. Come on now, hold this up."

As soon as Harry placed the ice on his forehead, he felt steam rising from his forehead. The ice cracked from the heat, and Harry found himself just holding a damp rag instead of ice.

Madame Pomfrey frowned and passed Harry a large bucket of ice. "Keel doing it." She said. "I am going to try and bewitch some ice so it doesn't melt."

Harry nodded as he placed the next piece of ice to his forehead.

Fifteen minutes and a lot of ice later, Harry's scar was cooling down. Instead of steaming instantly, Harry felt warm water pouring down his face into his eyes and mouth. He didn't dare touch his scar, knowing it would still be burning hot.

By the time the sun rose, the ice was lasting almost five minutes before it melted away completely. By the time he heard people walking around outside for breakfast, water was dripping slowly down from his forehead. There was no more steam.

By the time Harry would normally have been in his first class, Potions, his scar was warm to the touch, the rest of his forehead was numb from the cold, and he was completely soaked to the bone. The water dripping down his face was cool now, making him shiver.

"I'm sorry, Potter, I can't find the charm to stop the ice from melting. I don't know if it would have worked, anyway. Come now, let's see." Harry took the ice off of his forehead and Madam Pomfrey looked at him, touching his forehead and his face.

"Very well," she said, "you can go to sleep now." She led him over to a bed and gave him some dry clothes before closing the curtain so he could have some privacy. "Dumbledore should be along sometime before lunch," she said, "he will tell you what will happen. I want to see you asleep, Potter. Do you need a potion?"

Harry shook his head. "I'm fine." He said. He was shivering from how wet he had been, though his forehead was still warm to the touch. He took off his glasses and placed them on the table beside him before quickly falling asleep.

When Harry woke up, the sun was streaming into the room directly onto his face. He touched his scar gingerly. It was the same temperature as the rest of his forehead.

"Harry! You're awake!" Harry reached over to the table and put on his glasses. There, in front of him, were Ron and Hermione. "Are you alright?" Hermione asked.

Harry sat up and nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine." He said. "What time is it?"

"Barely noon." Ron said. "We grabbed a bit of food and came up here. We brought you some."

"Thanks," Harry said as Ron handed him a sandwich. He hadn't eaten since the night before, and he was hungry.

"What happened?" Hermione asked. "We were just told you were in the hospital wing with a headache."

With that, Harry explained all that had happened to him that morning, finishing with how he had been told that Dumbledore would be back by lunch.

"He wasn't at lunch," Ron said. "I guess he's not done yet."

Harry nodded, deep in thought. Why had this happened to him? What was his scar reacting to? Or was Voldemort controlling it, trying to cause him pain?

As if on cue, the door swung open and Dumbledore walked in. "Harry." He said seriously. "How long did it take for your scar to cool down?"

"Er, I think we stopped icing it at about nine thirty. So I guess it was about four and a half hours."

Ron let out a low whistle, and Hermione elbowed him to be quiet. Dumbledore nodded. "I have spoken to some of my sources, and they have verified what I feared. Voldemort has gained more power. More control. This is not a matter of feeling his moods, this is feeling his power. Every time he gains power, your scar heats up. I have reason to believe that the warmth you have been feeling every morning is Voldemort learning new things, gathering new supporters. The one today; it was the worst. I doubt if it will ever happen as badly again. We shall see. But Voldemort has just gained something, something powerful. I know not what. We shall see."

He rose. "This has weakened you. You may leave when Madame Pomfrey sees fit."

He turned and walked out the door.

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Sorry it's so short. I just really enjoyed writing this chapter. It was a lot of fun, and I didn't want to drag out the end and make it suck more.

Oh, look at that… no new reviews… shame. Come on, people, I've got eleven reviews. Why will no one review? There's something about Harry Potter fanfictions… do they really suck that much? No one reviews them!

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