AN:I wrote this a while ago but never posted it, so I thought today would be a good day to do it as a tribute to Harry's 35th and Queen Rowling's 50th birthdays.
So happy birthday, oh Queen of Magic, Joanne Katherine Rowling, and to the Saviour of our World, Harry James Potter.
(Also thanks, Mican00, for reminding me xD)
Peter beat me. The thought is hilarious. Mousy, timid Peter, a Death Eater. He fooled us all. I don't know how we never suspected him. There I was, suspecting Remus, one of the best friends I've ever had, when I should've been focusing on Peter. But how could it be him? Surely Peter is too cowardly, surely he wouldn't make it as a Death Eater. Oh, how wrong I was.
The street is in pieces. Peter blew a huge hole in it, killing twelve muggles doing it. I hear someone mention a finger. 'All that's left of him', they say. They're wrong, I know they are. Peter may be a Death Eater, but he is also a coward, and the thing about cowards is that they fear death, more than anything else, and Peter would never kill himself.
Laughter is bubbling from my lips. Peter beat me. I can only imagine how this'll look. Twelve people are dead, the street is destroyed, and here I am, laughing. But sometimes laughing is all you can do, laugh to hide that you're crying on the inside. Lily and James are dead. Lily, sweet Lily with her smile and her kindness, and James- I can't bear thinking about it. James was my best friend, my brother. There will never be anything on this earth more precious to me than him, and he's dead. And Harry- Harry. I don't know where he is. I left him with Hagrid, but if there's anyone else left I can trust then it's Hagrid, Hagrid and Dumbledore. They'll keep him safe.
James is the only one who really knew how I react to death. I can't bear it, it hurts too much. I can't even cry because that would be acknowledging it. So I laugh, laugh to keep the tears at bay. When my owl died in sixth year I laughed. When Charles and Dorea - James' parents, but still better parents to me than my own ever were - were murdered I was in hysterics for hours. That day James cried - he never cries, never ever - and I laughed, but we did it together. The same happened when I got the news of my little brother's death. Regulus was good, he was never so bad, never as bad as my parents or cousins, even though he joined them, he was my brother, and he died.
I'm twenty-one years old and I have already lost my brothers, my sister - because if Lily ever was something then it was my sister - and my parents. But that's war, and in war you can do nothing but laugh to keep from crying.