Harry Potter's Real Dad

He was covered in soot from head to toe. This did not bother him much. He was normally a little dirty from all the chimney cleaning anyway. Aunt Petunia only let him bathe after a chimney cleaning since he was dirtiest then, but his baths had to be shorter than ten minutes. It did not offer a lot of time to get all the soot off that built up again and again over the weeks.

He took note of his hands and feet. They were bleeding slightly, as were his elbows, but he brushed off his wounds.

Harry ran back into the house with the brush and scraper, leaving the bag of soot outside. Aunt Petunia added the soot to her bags of fertilizer and compost for her gardens, which Harry would tend to later. He had to finish the chimney right now.

As he entered the house, he saw Aunt Petunia hanging her purse in the closet and helping Dudley take off his coat. She looked at Harry.

There's my little chimney sweep," Aunt Petunia cooed.

Harry smiled brightly at her as he walked over to the chimney, setting the tools in the bucket.

"And not a mark on my furniture," she continued, walking over to Harry. She patted the air above Harry's head, keeping her hand away from the filthy hair. "Good boy. Make sure it's spotless for our fire tonight or there will be no supper. And you'll lose five minutes on your bath time."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

"And don't get any of your filth on anything. You know Uncle Vernon doesn't like a dirty couch. Oh, what am I saying, you know what you're doing—you're such a hard working boy, you are. I'll leave you to it."

"Okay, Aunt Petunia," Harry smiled even more, the praise making him feel warm inside. Harry put his glasses back on and crawled into the fireplace and set to scooping out the soot and ash in the into his bucket. Dudley was already jumping on the couch's drop covers and turning the television on for the cartoons while Aunt Petunia brought him his lunch.

Harry's stomach growled but he ignored it. He didn't get lunches. Three meals a day was a big no-no for chimney sweeps. He had to stay slim. He only got a small breakfast and sometimes dinner. But Aunt Petunia told him it was necessary—who else would ever be able to clean her chimney? Harry had to be her hero, and he went hungry many nights for the sake of being that hero. It was something—love, affection, care—something! And Harry craved every bit of those moments Aunt Petunia talked sweetly to him, or even dared to pat his head once.

Harry focused on his cleaning, making sure to get every bit of soot and ash out of the fireplace. As he scooped up some ash from the back of the fireplace, he realized this ash had a strange look to it. It was like white powder with a bit of a sparkle to it. Dumping it in his bucket, he looked down at it.

He had never seen ash sparkle in all his days cleaning the chimney. It was the strangest thing, and he reached his hand out to it slowly.

Grabbing a handful of it, he let it sprinkle out into his other hand, watching it shimmer as it did so. He frowned, taking a pinch out of his handful and blowing a big puff of breath at it.

The powder flew into the air, sprinkling down to the ground.

Then, the fireplace swallowed him.

Harry screamed. It felt like he was falling through the air as millions of fireplaces flashed before his eyes. He landed harshly on the ground as he was spat out of a fireplace.

Jumping to his feet, his eyes darted around. He was in a strange pub like place and many people were staring at him with confused looks. Some of the people were very large men with intimidating scowls and thick arms.

Harry slowly backed into the fireplace once more. Someone was approaching him. He looked down at his hand to see the powder still in his fist. Wishing for the best and hoping it would take him someplace safe, he threw the powder down, watching it poof around him and glitter.

The fireplace swallowed him again just as someone tried to grab him.

He was freefalling once more, past millions of fireplaces. Harry was starting to feel sick and his breathing was picking up, his throat closing uncomfortably. He squeezed his eyes shut and whined, "Just take me home, please!"

And suddenly, the world stopped, and the fireplace spat him out once more. Harry fell to the ground, his heart pounding in his throat and his breathing jagged.