Author's Note: Hey everyone, having left this story for a while, I've recently come back to it and reuploaded the first few chapters with some grammers changes. Hope people like the story and feel free to leave a review or message me to let me know what you think. Admittedly the first few chapters take a while to pick up steam and serve as set up for the inciting incident in Chapter 5, so if you'd like to skip to that point, just read chapter 1 so you have a little more context. Otherwise, I hope everyone enjoys! And without further adieu...

To Fight The Fire

Chapter 1: Realisations

'And so it was that I found myself sitting under a tree pondering my next path, when all of a sudden an idea hit me as if from a great apple above. Before I knew it that idea had wrapped its insatiable arms around my curious mind and threatened to engulf me entirely. So powerful was its potential and so overwhelming were its consequences, I had little choice but to embrace the path it created. So I did, and that was the beginning of the rest of my life, or indeed the beginning of something that the four of us hoped would become more than we could ever imagine'. Translation to English from the diary of Godric Gryffindor.

If there was one thing Harry Potter realised after the past 48 hours, it was that silent suffering could make you go insane. With the sound of the ominously swaying swings providing the theme to his monotonous thoughts, Harry lay on grass in the park near his aunt and uncle's house going over and over again those moments that he knew would haunt him for the rest of his life. Tear tracks down his face had dried the skin underneath and he could feel he was bordering on dehydration, but after losing someone you love, such were the last things on your mind.

Nearly two days ago, he had foolishly led his friends to the Department of Mysteries in a ridiculous plan to save his godfather. In the process, he managed to get his companions, whose only crime was loyalty, severely injured and had gotten his last living chance at a real family killed. Sirius, his lost godfather: it hurt to think of him in the past tense. No longer would Harry get to pursue those dreams of being happy with the father figure he had always wanted. Things seemed so close; so close he could shut his eyes and envision that alternate pathway that lead to a house in the countryside with a Quidditch pitch and peaceful green grasses stretching for miles around just for him and his Godfather. And yet now, sitting in the sun-scorched yellow grass of the park hearing only the clatter of rusty metal under the ever darkening clouds with no other human contact in sight, he had never felt so alone. Such a calamitous departure from the imagined harmony of a life that could have been.

To top it all off he now knew without a doubt why all of this had happened. Why it was him who was always targeted, why he had been marked and pursued by the darkest of the dark since even before he was born. Voldemort, The Dark Lord, had pursued Harry so relentlessly because of a leaked prophecy pronouncing either him or his friend Neville as Voldemort's equal. Harry had been the unlucky one. Although, given the nature of Neville's parents' health, he would say neither of the boys had experienced their fair share of luck so far.

Dumbledore, Harry's trusted Headmaster, had taken him to his office after the incident and, in light of everything, had broken his dishearteningly long silence. He explained why he felt he needed to avoid Harry that year, why Harry had to learn Occlumency, and from Snape no less, why he had to live with his relatives, and most importantly, why Voldermort had pursued him so desperately since his birth.

Dumbledore had laid it on thick and Harry had responded by expressing his feelings, namely his frustrations, on the objects in his Headmaster's office. Harry had been kept in the dark for far too long and combining this with his own credulousness had caused him to venture off bling and unprepared into certain danger. It was only by the skin of their teeth that he and his friends had somehow survived.

Given this and everything that had happened last year, as well as all that he'd now been told, Harry had come to the crushing realisation that Voldemort was until either of their dying breaths wholly his problem. And if he was honest with himself, particularly given the display of power he'd seen the other night by both his nemesis and his Headmaster, he was laughably, severely and demonstrably underprepared.

And why was this a problem? Harry thought, why should he care? "Because in the end, it will come down to me and him," he whispered, "as it always has". And then Harry paused, as perhaps the most profoundly potent and equally disturbing thought occurred to him, "and always will".

Harry paused for a second while his brain rushed to catch up. The full impact of his understanding took a few moments to come to fruition in Harry's mind, but once it had it smashed into him like a raging out of control train. There will never be an end for him: ever. Even if by some miracle Harry could defeat Voldemort, end the prophecy, save the people who he still had left and find the peace he so desperately craved, it would never truly be over. Just as Dumbledore, supposedly the world's greatest wizard, had defeated Grindelwald, so to now had he been sought out and engaged by Voldemort. You simply can't take out the greatest dark wizard of an age and not expect there to be consequences, harry realised with a clarity he hadn't know before. Who would the next aspiring dark lord look to target, but the person who usurped and bested his predecessor?

It was with that sinking realisation, that crushing burden, that Harry's chest which had felt as heavy as lead only seconds ago, released a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding. He stopped panting and began to visibly relax, taking a look at his surroundings as if for the first time. On his next intake of breath the fresh air coursed down his throat and into his lungs, invigorating him and bringing a sad, but inspirited smile to his face.

That was the first breathe of rest of his life, and he knew it down to his core. The tingling through to his fingers and down his spine all but confirmed it and as if it knew, the sun poked its ever welcome head through the clouds for a few moments only, lighting up the playground and the surrounding fields.

Sitting up, Harry exhaled intently and simply listened to the thrum of his heart as it bounced in anticipation to his new chain of thought. His life, where moments before had seemed akin to a chaotic ride from a hippogriff, was now so clear to him. The fog of the future's path had shifted to that of a strange certainty. There was only one path now; no matter who he saved, who he made friends with, fell in love with or what he did for a living his life would always lead towards defending those who were under attack from the brutalities of those who sought to abuse. He was that person through and through and as such would never stop, even after Voldemort was gone, protecting those who couldn't protect themselves. If the prophecy hadn't demanded it, it was likely his life probably would have. He couldn't stand to see those who were innocent being hurt and while he knew this before the prophecy and all its far-reaching consequences- until long after its potential fulfilment- knowing its contents now all but confirmed it.

Whereas before, Harry knew only that he was being sought but not why, with this new information and thus glowing realisation, he now felt oddly free; like he was finally able to make sense of a life-long riddle that had been staring him in the face for so long. It was so clear: what he had to do, what his responsibility was. Being honest with himself, he felt so relieved to finally know this. Now that he could see the grass on the other side and the reasons behind everything, he knew that surviving this ordeal, as he had been trying to do so far, was never going to work. The only way forward was to live, and fight, and teach those who couldn't to defend themselves. He couldn't carry on merely getting by in class, and messing around whenever he wanted as if someone else would deal with this: as if it was someone else's problem, which he knew now more than ever it wasn't. That's how things had led to the nightmare that was the Department of Mysteries. Never again Harry resolved. No more feelings of helplessness, Harry said to himself. And if Dumbledore and the Order weren't going to do anything to help him, then he would do what he had to, to make it happen for himself.

As clear and vivid as this realisation was he knew not how he would accomplish this or what challenges necessarily lay ahead, but he knew for certain that he would face them head on and challenge himself to be the best he could possibly be, because quite frankly, he owed it to those who had sacrificed everything so that he could have something. His mother's and father's and finally Sirius' images flicked through his mind, and taking a conscious look up at the still partially sunlit clouds and shedding one last tear for his lost life Harry uttered the most meaningful set of words he had ever spoken, "this is for you now".

Resting his thoughts for a few seconds Harry drank in these moments and committed them to memory; he didn't know how important this moment would be in the future, but he had a strange suspicion that it would turn out to be one of the most important of his life.

As the clouds fused again draining away the light, Harry turned to see his cousin and his troupe: Piers, Simon and Dwayne, swaggering towards the park attempting to look cool with a stranded young kid caught in the middle of them. Being on the other side of the park, harry knew they hadn't seen him yet, and even if they had Harry figured they wouldn't have cared anyway, after all who was he to hinder them.

Harry watched as the gang entered the park and pushed the kid into the muddy patch left over from last night's rain. Clearly scared, the kid didn't put up much of a resistance, but then against brutes sporting as much gigantic proportions as, particularly Dudley, and his gang represented, who could blame him.

By no means was Harry ever a violent or aggressive child, but here in the park near his relatives home, which had been the setting for so much of his childhood anguish, he looked at the poor kid with worn glasses and scruffy clothes caught in the mud and new that right now he needed to act. And if that meant being violent then that's what Harry would have to do. He could not ignore this kid's plight as others had his.

The kid, who could have only been 10, voice shook horribly as he whimpered and before Harry knew it, he was stalking towards them with a white hot rage burning behind his eyes.

Being too focused on humiliating the kid and laughing about it, none of the witless boys saw him coming. With the wind at his back and new determination in his eyes, Harry shook off his currently weak physical state, ran the last few steps, jumped into the air and kicked Dudley square in the back with such force Harry thought he heard the snapping of bone. Before Harry could brace himself he fell to the floor, but from the impact of his feet on Dudley's back he was willing to bet that his cousin had felt it more than him. Getting quickly to his feet, Harry could tell the rest of the gang were completely stunned and, reminding him hilariously of Crabbe and Goyle, they looked aimlessly to their absent leader for new instructions only to receive a grunting moan from the pile on the floor in response.

Having face planted the muddy turf, fortunately missing the kid-who was also too stunned to move, Dudley rolled around slightly and tried to wrestle with his obviously agonising body. "Stay down Dudders". Harry said calmly, but assuredly as he slowly rose to meet the other three at eye level. Looking over at the boy who had bright blue eyes and couldn't have been more than 11, Harry's age before his world had been blown apart by magic, he said, "Run home kid, they won't bother you again." The last part he said while turning to look at the rest of Dudley's gang. The boy, not needing any other encouragement, scurried away as quick as his feet would carry him.

There were three left, and with Dudley still writhing on the ground, Harry felt it best to take the opportunity while the window was still open. As if Harry's thoughts had echoed on a loudspeaker the gang snapped out of their idiotic trance and immediately sprang at him.

"Get him!" They said.

Feeling his heart beating wildly and the boys approaching him in slow motion, the rage Harry had held all his life over being helpless, alone and left in the dark, came rushing to the forefront and what happened next was a blur to him: happening so fast while attempting to register so much of what all three boys were trying to do made time and all else irrelevant. He knew he ducked under Simon's first punch, managed to bend his knees and within the space of few feet picked up enough momentum to barrel into a completely taking off guard Piers.

The boys clearly hadn't had much actual fighting experience, choosing instead to use their size to bully younger kids, as they were unaccustomed to someone actually fighting back. All the more reason to demonstrate what happened when they did fight back, Harry thought intently.

As he got back to his feet Harry had to quickly duck under an uncertain swing from Dwayne, who had tried to attack from behind. He hadn't really put much effort into it, and Harry knew that a quick and hard shove would be enough to keep the boy down. He was almost looking for an excuse to go down, as his knees crumbled as soon as Harry touched him.

Spinning around Harry saw the look on the face of a flabbergasted Simon who had ran at him first. Harry guessed, the kid thought three on one would have been easy. Seeing currently only himself and Harry standing with no back up however, clearly made him weaker and Harry could see it in his eyes. Pressing his advantage Harry sprang at him, but before anything could happen Simon turned and ran, leaping over the park fence as if his tail was on fire. Now for Piers, Harry thought. And as soon as that thought had ended so too did Harry's momentum as he was hit right on the side and thrown with shattering power onto the hard floor. Piers had recovered and in more ways than one.

Harry hit the ground hard so hard it felt like the whomping willow had just connected with one of its thrashing branches, catching the full force of Piers' clearly superior strength and now ferocity. Knowing he had little time to recover and spying Dudley struggling to his knees, Harry once again let his own anger take over. Ignoring the pain in his side he leapt back up, dodged Piers' hastily thrown fist and countered with a strong one of his own. Harry had never punched anyone before and he couldn't say he enjoyed the experience very much. But at this point Piers would only respond to one thing. And Harry made sure that thing connected hard with the side of the bigger boy's face, knocking him down.

Obviously not expecting any kind of a fight from someone he'd bullied for so many years, Piers stayed down, not wanting to withstand another shot from Harry. Of course, he didn't know Harry hardly wanted to carry on either. His knuckle had begun throbbing immediately and he was scared to keep going. Fighting like this wasn't him, but he knew if he didn't stand up to these bullies now, they would never stop tormenting these kids.

Standing over the beaten down last gang member, Harry turned to look at an also now standing and very perplexed looking Dudley. Harry was panting heavily now, pain coming in waves as his body began to lose its grip on the adrenaline. He ignored it as best he could to confront his last enemy.

Walking slowly over to him, Harry saw pain, panic and anger mixed into Dudley's face. He stopped so that the two boys were only a few feet apart and stared defiantly at his cousin, their eyes locked in a fiery stare.

"Your bullying days are done, Dudley," Harry stated, taking a deep breath to calm his dauntless heart. But before he could back it up, Dudley chuckled humourlessly.

"Oh yeah? What are you going to do? You-you wouldn't dare hurt me, and you know why, because Dad would kill you." Dudley finished, his trembling voice betraying his confident assertion.

"Is that so Dudders?" Harry said, as he strode up to Dudley closing the gap between the two of them to mere centimetres.

"I just took down your gang, and I didn't even use this." Harry said pulling his wand from his back pocket and holding it at head height, letting the fear he knew it would cause in his cousin do the work for him. The effect was immediate. At seeing Harry's wand, Dudley lost the little bit of confidence his voice had reached for.

Dudley's eyes flicked back to Harry's now, no doubt fearing what his crazed magical cousin might do next. Knowing he had him, Harry lowered his voice so that it was barely over a whisper making sure to spell out his next words for his intellectually vacant cousin.

"If you ever torment or hurt any kid again, be it physical or otherwise, I don't care what kind of war I'm fighting or how far away I am, nothing will stop me from coming back here to deal with you myself." Seeing the acknowledgement laced with fear in his cousin's eyes, Harry continued, "And if you mention a word of this to your pathetic mummy and daddy, I swear you will not like the consequences." Harry finished strongly with an air of finality gesturing to his wand to indicate to Dudley the repercussions of said actions. Fear was a powerful motivator and not one Harry relished in using nor used lightly, but in this case against an enemy who only understood fear, he couldn't deny its effectiveness.

Upon seeing Dudley nod his head weakly in acceptance, Harry turned to view the rest of the gang, all of whom were still squirming around on the floor- either not wanting to engage again or unable to. Harry turned his attentions back to his own predicament. His knuckle was cut, his side hurt like hell, his body no doubt bore the early bruises only a fight would leave and the adrenaline he had used so intently only moments ago had all but gone. Despite that he turned and caught sight of the kid who he thought had run away. He had stayed, sheltered in the longer grass outside the park to watch at a safe distance. He was still clearly scared, yet had been brave enough to stay and watch. He mouthed a thank you to Harry, before speeding off towards the safety of the estate.

A warm buzz flittered through his heart and Harry knew, that was all the recognition he would ever need to confirm his leap into action. If he ever had a doubt before about stopping those who were trying to hurt others he cast it firmly aside right there and then. If not for him more than likely the kid would have continued to suffer at their hands and now, if Dudley and his gang knew what was good for them, others like him could equally feel safe in their own neighbourhood once more. It was for exactly that reason that Harry had made his vow and if his little confrontation with Dudley had shown him anything, it was that he was right to have made it. Casting his gaze one last time up to the clouds Harry let a small smile grace his lips as he thought about his parents and Sirius. Finally he felt like he was making them proud, finally he was stepping up and taking control.

For now though, his fight here was done. He had another more important battle to prepare for. Taking one last breath, soaking in the view of the playground and his forgotten childhood, Harry left the park without looking back. Tomorrow, he would begin down the path that would define the rest of his life; regardless of how far that would take him, he would make sure every second counted.