Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, J. K. Rowling does. I do own this story, though, however short, so please don't take it without asking.
Author's Note: This drabble was based off of the line, "A crater in the middle of the street, so deep it had cracked the sewer below. Bodies everywhere. Muggles screaming. And Black standing there laughing, with what was left of Pettigrew in front of him...a heap of bloodstained robes and a few--a few fragments—" That is from Prisoner of Azkaban, the book version. This drabble has also been posted at hp100.
Laughter of Despair
It came out of him suddenly. Burbling, bubbling, giggling.
It was supposed to be laughter. He wasn't sure where it was coming from. There was nothing funny about this situation.
Erupting, bursting, exploding.
Wormtail had disappeared, leaving him standing in the street. He had obviously been framed.
Why was he laughing?
Choking, hacking, burning.
Sometimes, he had heard, people broke down and laughed when their minds fell apart and they had nothing left to do.
Was he going insane?
His laugh was a screaming, roaring, hysterical, full-throated one.
He was still laughing when they came to take him to Azkaban.