Disclaimer: jk rowling rules, and owns the characters.
"Harry, get up! Get up! Stop!" Harry was jolted awake as Aunt Petunia from the downstairs kitchen. Harry ran downstairs to get to her.
"Help! Help! Stop!" he kept on hearing Aunt Petunia's agonizing scream. While he ran down the stairs, Harry could smell death. There was no other way to explain it – Harry could sense that someone or something had just had his or her life taken away from them. Harry ran faster down the stairs and sharply turned right into the kitchen. Aunt Petunia was dead, in a heap upon the floor.
"Stop! Stop! Help me! Oh, help!" It sounded like Luna screaming. But it was coming from Dudley's room. Without a thought as to why Luna would be in Dudley's room, Harry ran back upstairs. He quickly dodged into his room, grabbing his wand. Harry sprinted to Dudley's room, threw open the door. There was Luna, dead on Dudley's bed. Her eyes were still open, so cold. Harry slowly walked to the bed and closed Luna's eyes. Harry felt the rage he had been trying to suppress all summer building up inside of him. He had to find out who was killing.
"Harry! Help me! Save me!" Harry ran from room to room, finding Hermione, Mr. Weasley, anyone he had ever cared about dead in his house, Harry coming moments too late to save any of them. Tears were filling his eyes. What was happening? Why was everyone dying?
Harry stumbled down to the floor by the staircase. He looked to his hands.
They were covered in blood.
The room was darkening. He saw Ron walking up the stairs to Harry. "Hey, mate. What's going on?" Ron asked.
Harry wanted to ask Ron what was happening. But his mouth wouldn't work, wouldn't form the syllables. Disjointed, Harry stood, watching himself pull up to Ron and take out his wand.
"Harry? Harry! What are you doing? Harry? Harry!" Ron yelled as Harry pulled out his wand.
"Crucio!" Harry heard himself scream as Ron crumpled down to the floor, dead. His blood pooled around himself and Harry.
Harry had killed Ron. He killed everyone. Everyone was dead. Harry had killed Ron like he had killed Sirius. Harry turned around and saw Fred and George screaming, he turned back to the stairs and saw Hermione yelling in pain. He kept on turning and turning, dozens of his friends and family kept screaming around him as he heard that cold, chilling laughter of Voldemort.
"You know how to kill, Harry...you know that you will become me...and kill. Everyone you ever knew will be dead. Because of you, Harry," explained that frigid voice.
"There's still time," thought Harry. He could still defeat Voldemort, couldn't he? Harry pulled out his wand, prepared to duel with Voldemort. He turned towards the robed figure behind him. "Crucio," he muttered, exhausted with grief. The figure slumped down to the floor.
Harry walked slowly to the body, and pulled down the hood.
He was looking in to the cold, dead eyes of Sirius.
Harry slowly keeled down with exhaustion. Disbelieving his eyes, disbelieving his hands. But he had killed. And it was all his fault.
Harry slowly turned his head up, and screamed "Why me?"