The ghost of a laugh
And there it is, the last laugh, the one which doesn't want to leave your always gleeful face, to get us confused, to make us believe you are just sleeping, perhaps dreaming of a new joke to brighten up everybody's day, imagining a new prank to pull up an outburst of laughter, because everything in this earth was worth enough as to make us happy, you would say, a shame that people can't appreciate it; however that doesn't mean you were a heartless, an irresponsible; you got as touched as everybody else when the very least person felt miserable, but you always managed to find the way to curve his lips and shape a smile on his face, a smile so like the one we are staring at, without believing in the fact the you won't be returning back home with us, that you are leaving this earth where hate and love are mixed, where hate seized your body from our side but love will retrain your soul with the same force, because the world will never be the same without your cheerful presence, and who could bear it with the lack of a bunch of laughs; so we shut tight our lids and repeat to ourselves over and over again that you haven't left us, that you will never do it, that this is just an horrible nightmare and everything will be all right soon; and then our pupils fall upon your flaming red hair, your peaceful smile, and we trick ourselves believing you are just asleep, but then our suspicious eyes wander to your stiff limbs and your pale face, and we are abruptly brought back to reality, where these same eyes are puffy and aching for too much crying, and our throats for pleading you not to leave, as if it was your mere choice; but you are going to continue forwards, probably telling us in a whisper "Cheer up, don't you see? Now I feel saint-like too!" as a small comfort for us, who will never forget you, because the ghost of your last laugh will remain with us forever, Fred Weasley.