Chapter 4: The First of the Last Encounter

Harry was flying on his broom, his hand outstretched towards the snitch.

"Watch out!" screamed Ginny.

He turned to duck a bludger, and took a look at the face belonging to the player next to him.

It was Voldemort.

A flash of green light, and Harry screamed as he tumbled to the grass. A sharp pain shot through his body when he tried to move. When he looked up again, Voldemort was standing above him, his eyes narrowed into its red slits. He waved his wand and chocolate frogs swarmed all over him. His forehead burst into an all too familiar pain as he reached for his own wand, which promptly turned into a rubber chicken.

"You killed my father," said Harry, chewing thoughtfully on a chocolate frog. "I mean, YOU KILLED MY FATHER!"

Voldemort's pale gray lips pulled back into a grisly sneer.

"Harry, I am your father."

"NOOOOooooooOOOOOOooooo!"

Green light pierced the boundaries of his vision, the chocolate frog slid down his throat, and he felt his body contort in pain as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Harry shot up in bed, gasping and shuddering. He shoved his glasses on.

3:14 AM read the clock.

Ron was snoring gently, mumbling, "Weasley… King…" evidently deaf to Harry's sputterings.

Harry immediately felt his scar, but there was for the first time in a year, absolutely no pain.

"Must've eaten too much cake," he mumbled, flopping back on his pillow. In his mind he reviewed his dream. Voldemort, his father? His body went rigid and cold at the thought of it. Of course not. The thought of Voldemort being father to anybody was a joke. Convinced that the dream and chocolate frogs could mean absolutely nothing, Harry fell asleep again.

Harry woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. He did not remember his dream until he looked at himself in the mirror, seeing the scar again. As a matter of fact, the scar did not look like its lightning shape. It was contorted twisted... almost into…

"No…" whispered Harry.

"Whatsa matter," said Ron. "Is your scar hurt—" He stopped, eyeing Harry's forehead. "Blimey…What's a heart doing on your forehead?"

Harry shook his head, and patted his hair down, hoping to hide it.

They went down to breakfast in silence. A heart… A heart… thought Harry. How could that happen?

"Harry, I've just made some hotcakes and—" began Mrs. Weasley. She stopped, staring at Harry's forehead. "What happened--?"

"I dunno," he replied. "I woke up and it was this way…"

Everyone watched him all through breakfast, which was punctuated with Mrs. Weasley's "Are you all right, dear?"s.

When the three of them were alone, Hermione finally spoke. "Did something strange happen to you?" she asked.

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione cautiously, before telling them his dream.

"Why that's absolutely silly!" exclaimed Ron. "You-Know-Who your father?"

"What's silly?" demanded Ginny, who had just entered the room. "I think Harry's scar is just revealing his love for me."

Ron rolled his eyes. "What do you want?"

"Bill and Fleur have just arrived," she replied, making a gagging noise after Fleur's name. "I can't believe she's going to be our sister-in-law…" she muttered.

"I bet Ron can," said Hermione, glaring at Ron.

"Would you two just confess that you've got the hots for each other already?" said Harry (and the person putting the words in his mouth), and left the room.