Summary: What if the Chosen One had enough? The person he trusted, treated like family, the one who gave him hope died? What if the Chosen One thinks it is his fault and drives himself to darkness?

A/N: I made this one-shot as an outlet of frustration since I can't continue the first fanfiction I made. This one-shot involves death fic and some mental issues and a bit of gore, so if you don't like, please skip but to those who will continue, please enjoy.

Harry Potter was inconsolable, his godfather, Sirius, died. The person he only learned to trust, the only person to whom he felt what is it like to have a family, he died, he fell into the veil.

All because of him.

If he learned to occlude his mind, if he listened to Snape even of he was an outright bastard, if he listened to Hermione about not going to the Ministry and tell Dumbledore, if...

But even 'If's' can't bring Sirius back to the living.

'I was suppose to save them, not kill them. I failed my godfather. I failed Remus. I failed my father. I failed everyone.' Harry thought as tears tracked down on his pale cheeks.

Harry cried, his chest aching after all the involuntary sobs erupted from his chest, from so much crying, he drifted into sleep.

Harry was sitting in the darkness, everywhere was dark, he saw Hermione's illuminated form and her face was contorted with a mixture of different emotions, if Harry read it correctly, it was a mixture of hate, pity, accusation, sadness and anguish and Hermione whispered brokenly to Harry.

"If you listened Harry, Snuffles won't die. If you just listened, Harry. If you just listened" The whisper was hollow, it was petrifying, it echoed sadness and anguish all the the same time, and what hurts was that, it was directed to him.

"H-hermione, I..I know I can't solve this with a sorry, b-but, I just want to s-save Sirius..." Harry trailed off, he slumped on the couch he was sitting and tears welling up his eyes.

"How thick can you be Harry? You can just call on Professor Dumbledor, yet you insisted on coming. It is your fault, Harry!" Hermione yelled.

Harry watched in horror as Hermione melted and changed into the form of Ron.

"I almost died there Harry. Hermione and the whole DA almost died. You just want fame again Harry, right? You are an attention seeking snot." Ron said scornfully and continued "And because of your thirst for the spotlight, Snuffles died! Snuffles died Harry and you are called the Savior of the Wizarding World?" Ron said sarcastically.

"ENOUGH!" Harry screamed, cowering and covering his ears, his eyes were tightly shut, tears tracking down profusely.

"It is your fault, Harry." Ron said and Remus appeared.

"Remi!" Harry cried and stood up to hug his surrogate godfather only to be pushed away.

Harry was confused and looked up as he fell to the ground, he saw the haunted look in the amber orbs of the werewolf, his face more weary and tired than before.

"I am the only one left now, Harry. You were Sirius' cub." Remus said sadly.

Harry was absolutely looking horrified now, he was shaking on the floor. "N-noo-" he whispered weakly

"Yes, Harry. This is your fault. You should have just left this to the Order and not to meddle with it." Remus said hollowly. "Did you realize I am alone now? Your father, died, Sirius died and Peter, well, he betrayed James for the Dark Lord. Did you realize I lost all of my friends because of you Harry?" Remus trailed of and yelled "THEY DIED BECAUSE OF YOU!"

"I-I am s-sorry.. I s-should've been me! I am s-sorry, Remus!" Harry sobbed.

"This is your fault...This is your fault...This is your fault...This is your fault...This is your fault..." Hermione, Ron and Remus voice echoes in his head.

Harry woke up with a jolt and with a blanket muffled scream of "ENOUGH!" and Harry sobbed again.

The next day, in the Dursley's home in number 4 Privet Drive with the family living there on a vacation in Majorca they left the boy in the smallest bedroom with dead bolts in his door and multiple locks.

"This is your fault...This is your fault...This is your fault...This is your fault..." The voices from his dream came back and the image of Sirius falling into the veil came back to his mind.

Harry shut his his tightly as he clawed onto his ears until it began to draw blood. Warm blood was trickling unto his skin.

Harry screamed. The voices were driving him mad.

He blindly thrashed around the small bedroom until he saw something...a silver pocket knife Sirius gave him as a present and as his reflection glinted off the surface, he saw not his reflection but crimson eyes and he thought he heard a sinister chuckle echo in the small room.

Harry threw the knife away but the voices keep on chanting on his head...whispering..

whispering...

Harry saw the knife again in his lap and the same crimson eyes were glinting, malice and sadistic glee was shining on those red orbs.

He closed his eyes and willed all the voices away but it seemed to power them, amplify them. He opened his eyes and screamed.

Voldemort was standing, infront of him, looking at him with a smirk that gave Harry chills running in his spine.

"Potter...The Gryffindor Golden Boy, how golden are you for the others if they learn you killedyour own godfather? That you pathetically tried to torture a deranged woman with an Unforgivable?"

"No...no...I didn't k-kill..." Harry stuttered, tears welling again.

"No? Are you sure about that?" Voldemort asked with a mocking edge on his hissing voice "If it wasn't for your idiocy, Potter that you go leading a band of children in the Ministry, your godfather will not be killed!"

"B-But.." Harry wasn't given the chance to explain for he was cut of.

"You killed your own dog of a godfather, Potter. The blood is on your hands!" Voldemort cackled madly, Harry anguished and hot tears pouring from his eyes stood up shakily.

"YOU KILLED MY GODFATHER NOT ME! IF YOU DIDN'T COME AND KILL ME WHEN I WAS YOUNG, THE PROPHECY MIGHT HAVE BEEN PREVENTED! YOU SET THE PROPHECY IN MOTION, NOT ME! SO DON'T TELL ME THAT I KILLED MY GODFATHER BECAUSE I DIDN'T!" Harry roared and in a quick motion he plunged the knife in Voldemort's chest who was still laughing.

The Dark Lord's crimson eyes widened and his form suddenly morphed into...Harry. 'Harry' was now clutching his chest pain evident in his face. Blood was pouring from the stab: thick, crimson liquid of life.

"You...killed me? You will kill...y-y-yourself?" 'Harry' croaked out.

"This is not a joke, Riddle! How dare use myself against me? I won't be fooled! Not anymore!" Harry laughed, a laugh of insanity. He doubled over, laughing madly he clutched his chest as he tried to breathe through the laughter when he noticed his chest was wet with something warm, he raised he arm and his eyes widened.

His hand was coated with blood. Fresh blood.

Harry looked at his chest and with horror, he saw the silver kinfe embedded deep into his chest and with a start, pain and agony rushed into him with strength that made him cry out.

"Ah...Si-Sirius...M-Mum, D-Dad...I am s-sorry." He whispered and the Savior of the Wizarding world lay unmoving in the growng pool of crimson liquid, in the pool of his own blood.

The wizarding world's hope was no more and will pass as a mere history.

Fin.

Author's Note: Thank you for reading, please do review. I would appreciate it greatly.

Until Then,

Cy-Scy