I remember the days when I was still a bright young lad in Hogwarts, lazy but with good grades, called an intellectual though the best troublemaker there is. I didn't have the slightest care in the world. Everything was so carefree and easy, and everyone would be happy and have smiles in their faces. Especially Us.
Us Marauders, we never had a day that we didn't just laugh at something. There would always be a thing that we could express our amusement about, whatever the day may be. Sometimes, those things would just come. Sometimes, we would make them happen. But nevertheless, whatever the situation may be, even if the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher would repeatedly humiliate us in front of the Slytherins every class each day, we still laughed. It was our way of forgetting everything bad in our lives, and remembering everything good about it. That's why we weren't just called the Marauders, we were known as the Giggling Gang.
Oh yes, the name is very pathetic. But we still loved it.
It was our code of ethics. Our life in a nutshell. Our beliefs in one word. Laugh. That word defines everything. It defines us, that whatever would happen to us, we would still end up laughing. Because we were always together. We were the inseparable group; in pranks, hard work, pleasure, pain and desperation, we were inseparable. We were never alone. We had each other all the time.
We would laugh in high pitched tones occasionally, other days we would make it very, very low like an alto trying to giggle himself out of an opera. Sometimes it would just be an ordinary, normal, spontaneous chuckle. Other times it would be a long, breathless, hand-to-your-stomach cackle. Whatever kind of laugh it was, it always reminded us that in life, things would get rocky, and we would just have to accept it. So why make it worse by punishing ourselves for what we've done? There would always be a solution, and it is not in hitting yourself that you find it. It is in working it out together as a team, whatever it is. May it be your fault entirely or somebody else's. Just laugh, take the fear and pain and anger away, and think straight. Then you can try to find a solution.
Let me give you an idea. It was like: minus 50 house points, laugh.
Lose Quidditch match against Slytherin, chuckle.
Accidentally turn a Slytherin to a bouncing purple rat after said match, chortle.
Get detention for turning Slytherin into a bouncing purple rat, giggle.
Girl-asked-out-to-Yule-Ball did not accept invitation to be this person's date, snort.
Humiliation like no other in your whole lifetime, snigger.
But that didn't mean that we disregarded all our faults. We just tried to calmly take out all the panic and the anxiety in the situation, and become rational about it. And when all of the uncertainties are already gone, we would start working on a solution. And it would, most often than not, work perfectly.
And you know what? It was our epitome of true friendship. True, pure friendship.
And what true and pure friendship we had back then. We would always be there for each other, through thick and thin. Even through the shallowest of all dilemmas, we would be there to help each other, to comfort, motivate, inspire, insight. A hand that would always be reaching outward, that would grab you and take you whatever the circumstances may be.
And who would think that all of it would just…go away? All those years being the most loyal and truthful and trustworthy of friends, all go to waste. As if none of it ever happened. As if we never existed. As if there was no Marauders. As if there was no Giggling Gang.
Who would imagine, eh?
I rarely laugh now. I don't even smile. If I ever show the slightest upward movement of the side of my lip it would usually be just a show.
It's really hard to explain…
It just hurt too much to feel happy, because now you know that the world would never be happy. Life isn't perfect. It's a sick, sad world we live in, where there would never be anything to laugh about.
It just hurt too much to remember.
So, I try to forget. I torture myself to put it out of my mind, to put it out of my memory. But, after 13 years, it's still there. Alive, beating, tormenting, agonizing. Even a Dementor had no use for it.
Maybe because, even though it was a good memory before, it is a painful memory now. The Dementors just love the good memories. They feed upon it. They kill you with the remains, the painful memories.
So. I slowly die. I am alone, with nothing to live for. I slowly deteriorate until finally my soul gives up and my body comes along with it. Honestly, it's what I yearn for now. A slow, painless death.
But no, death just hates me. So as you see, I am still alive and breathing, living with everything beating, tormenting and agonizing.
Life just isn't fair.
So what should I do? Cry to my desperation, to my anguish that I haven't died? No, I don't think I'll do that.
I'll just laugh. Alone.
A/N: the story might be a bit confusing, forgive me. It's just my crazy mind in overload again, that just found a quick idea to tinker with. There's an irony at the end, but I hope you get it in the way I was thinking. Questions, comments, or flames, everything I would accept. I'd just like to know your point of view. A reviewed author is a developing author, right? ^_^ Thanks very much!
