Title: Burn, Baby, Burn!

Summary: Harry Potter loves to watch things burn! Pre-Hogwarts. Pyromaniac!Harry.

Disclaimer: I do not, and never will, own Harry Potter.

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An underfed eight year old Harry Potter with abnormal sized clothes smirked evilly as he pushed open the small door to his cupboard, finally free of his prison. His fat oaf of an uncle, Vernon Dursley, an 'upstanding gentleman' of the community had forgotten to lock the door like he usually did at night, a very big mistake and probably his last if Harry had anything to do about it.

Crawling out on his hands and knees, the sickly pale boy quickly pulled himself upright and glanced around. It was nearing midnight but he could see as if it was dusk because of the large full moon shining in the night sky, lighting up the entire house through its wide windows. The only sounds heard were coming from his uncle upstairs, snoring away, and the clock on the wall that ticked with every passing second.

Still smirking, he casually entered the kitchen and easily unlocked the back door, slipping outside. He had waited years to be able to get back at his relatives and now he had his chance. All the mental and physical abuse he had endured since he was dumped on their doorstep at the age of one was about to be repaid with interest.

Slightly skipping, he made his way over to his uncles shed softly humming a tune he had heard the day before on the television while locked away in his cupboard. It was an upbeat tune that somehow felt appropriate at a time like this, right before his revenge. Then he'd be free, something he longed for with every fiber in his small, abused body.

Bending down, he upturned the small welcome mat placed in front of the sheds door and picked up a small key. Placing it in the keyhole on the small brass colored lock he turned it clockwise earning a quiet click as it opened. Unhooking it from the metal door, he threw it off to the side somewhere and carefully pulled the door open, making sure he made as little noise as possible, not wanting to wake his relatives up and get in trouble. Walking inside, he flicked the light switch beside the doorframe, his smirk returning as he took in the cabinet in the far corner filled with various poisonous and flammable liquids.

Why was he happy to see such a thing? Well you see, ever since the age of six when he first got his hand on a match, Harry had been fascinated by fire and what destruction the element could provide. Burning things had become a hobby of sorts for him as he didn't have any friends to occupy his time. Fire was his only companion in life, helping him strike back at those that struck at him.

It started off innocently enough with him burning paper and other easily burnt things like plastic. Then he moved onto using deodorant cans as a type of flamethrower, spraying its flammable contents over an open flame of a lighter. He quickly got bored of such things though and moved onto bigger targets.

Like last week for instance. One of the girls that picked on him at school had got a little more... annoying for his tastes and he decided to do something about it. Stealing a lighter from their teacher's desk drawer before lunch, he tried setting her disgustingly bright pink dress on fire. He had nearly succeeded in his task but was caught at the last second by Dudley, his overweight cousin that resembled a pig-in-a-wig. He'd gotten in loads of trouble for that at school and at home, probably getting his worst beating to date. It really was a shame he wasn't able to do more than ruin the tail end of her dress though, it would have been amusing to see the snobby girl running around like a chicken that's lost its head.

Another case was when he lit one of Missus Figg's, an annoying old lady that lived around the corners cat on fire after it scratched him. He'd coated its tail in gasoline he was able to steal from someone's garage and then wrapped said limb in paper. The cat had taken off like a rocket when he'd touched the match to its soaked appendage, screeching loudly. They say cheetah's are the fastest land animal in the world but Harry was sure that that tabby cat could have given it a run for its money.

Sighing happily at the memory, he padded over to the large blue steel cabinet only to discover it too was locked with a similar devise that'd been on the door to the shed. Frowning, he looked around for a key but couldn't find one so he tried the one he used before, praying it would work. It didn't.

Growling low in his throat, he walked over to one of the walls covered in tools and pulled down a heavy set of bolt cutters. He'd seen his uncle use the tool millions of times and knew how to operate the contraption. Heaving it over his shoulder with surprising strength for such a weak looking boy, he walked back over to the cabinet and lifted the cutters towards the lock, opening the mouth enough for the padlocks hook fit inside. Taking a deep breathe, he clamped it together with all his might, cutting it in half in a matter of seconds, wincing when the now destroyed lock hit the concrete ground with a loud clang. He really didn't know just how strong he really was.

Carefully placing the bolt cutters on the floor, he reached for the handles and pulled the cabinet open. He immediately sought the gasoline, having used it successfully in the past. He didn't want to stuff this up so he went with what had worked already for him. Pulling the large plastic red container off the shelf that read 'gasoline', he nearly toppled over at its weight. Setting it down, he got in a better position to carry it then lifted it up to his chest, placing his hands underneath to steady it. Under control, he slowly made his way outside and back towards the house.

Lugging the container inside, he set about making a trail around the kitchen table and up on the kitchen benches, making sure he didn't use too much as he still had the rest of the house. He quickly made it to the living room where he splashed the couches a little and made a trail around the outer edge of the room. Done, he moved to the hallway and up the stairs, pouring enough for a decent fire to travel up. When he got to the top he quickly did the second floor hallway and stopped at the end, directly in front of both his aunt and uncle's door, and his cousins.

Deciding to do his cousin first, he turned the knob of the door and slowly pushed it open. He winced as the door creaked but luckily Dudley was a very heavy sleeper. It also helped that his uncles snoring smothered nearly everything else.

Entering the pig's domain, he sneered at the disgusting fat lump on the bed, tangled up in his bed sheets. For a second Harry felt like giving up his attempt and just murdering the three with a kitchen knife but his love for fire prevailed and he continued in his task, soaking a good part of the carpet around the lumps bed and even splashing a bit of the blankets that wrapped around the mammoth child like a python. Satisfied, he moved out of Dudley's room and inside his aunt and uncles.

Once more he got the urge to just stab them to death as his eyes rested on the large man and his boney horse faced wife but pushed it away. Retracing what he did in Dudley's room he emptied the rest of the container around their bed and some of the blankets.

A sudden snort caught him by surprise and jumped back instinctively, tripping over his own feet. Hitting the ground with a loud thump, his eyes widened in fear as Vernon started to move, his heart pounding loudly in his ears. He stopped breathing as the large man looked to be waking when the movement gradually stopped and the snoring continued. Nearly choking on his tongue, he got hastily to his feet and quietly bolted from the room. Only when he was down stairs again did he allow his lungs air, taking in deep calming breathes to stop his racing heart that felt as if it would explode within his ribcage.

“That was close...” He murmured softly, the first words he'd uttered all night.

Calmed, he wandered back over to his cupboard and reached inside, pulling out a green colored lighter. He'd stolen it months ago, waiting for this opportunity to strike. It would finally be put to good use.

Humming that same upbeat tune, he marched towards the front door and quickly unlocked it, throwing it open. Turning, he bent over and used his thumb to spark the flint as he pushed down on the small red 'button' to release the gas. Lit, he lowered the lighter to the gasoline soaked floor, chuckling darkly. “This is what you get for hurting me.”

In an instant the carpet was on fire and spreading quickly. Harry mused that the trail of fire that shot of in different directions looked like snakes. Turning around, he quickly bolted outside, closing the door as he went. When he reached the road he turned around and waited. It wasn't long before he noticed the orange glow that appeared in the lounge room had also appeared in his cousin's room. Still humming that eerie upbeat tune, he watched and listened closely.

“Burn, baby, burn!” He muttered sadistically.

Just as large grey clouds of smoke started leaking out from closed windows and doors a scream of terror pierced the night's quiet atmosphere. Harry knew that shrill voice anywhere and started laughing, loudly. Soon two other voices joined hers as the house burned around them. The boy's eyes widened however as a large fire covered object came hurling out his large cousin's window, glass shattering as whatever it was fell and hit the ground below with a loud thump followed by sickening cracks.

Harry laughed hysterically when he realized it was Dudley. The stupid boy had thrown himself out his window to escape the fire.

Neighbor's lights were now flickering on, being awoken by the screams. Directly across the street at number five, a young woman looked out her bedroom window and nearly fainted. Stumbling, she ran to the phone to call the fire brigade and the police.

Harry continued to laugh as one of the screams abruptly came to a halt. His aunt was dead. He smiled as he thought about how she'd look as a burnt covered corpse, probably a lot better than she had alive.

The smoke was now billowing from the building in big thick black clouds, filling the sky. The orange glow from the fire slowly overtaking the house, turning everything it touched an eerie gold color. It was a beautiful sight.

Then all of a sudden a large explosion tore through the back of the house ignited from the gas stove, the force shattering windows up and down connecting streets, rocking the houses next to number four on their foundations. Harry stumbled back in surprise and landed on his back, eyes gleaming in triumph. His ears were ringing badly and he tried shaking his head to get rid of the sound. Something landing next to him though caught his attention and he turned to see the large beefy charred arm of his now 'late' Uncle Vernon.

Harry blinked. Then he blinked again. When he was certain what he was seeing was real he started laughing again, clutching at his midsection as tears started streaming down his face. He was finally free! No more starving, no more beatings and no more stupid cupboard under the stairs. He couldn't have been happier.

Calming down, he glanced around the mounting debris and noticed all the people who had exited their houses watching him in horror. Obviously they put everything together and came to the same outcome. He smiled darkly at each and every one of them before bolting down the street and away from Privet Drive. His hearing was rapidly returning and he could hear the sirens of the police and fire brigade. He had to get out of there fast.