It was too much; there was only so much stress a man's mind could take before he didn't have any other responses. There was too much adrenaline in his body for him to collapse, and too little energy to do anything else. He'd never imagined he would be the last one alive. He'd always assumed it would be Remus and Lily, competent and sane and eminently responsible, who would outlive the rest of their cohort. His whole life had been built around the Marauders, and then the Potters; even had he been conscious enough to make decisions, he wouldn't have known what to do, where to go. He might have tried to kill himself, except that some part of him refused to go out the same way as Peter had. So he stood there, awash in the blood of innocent bystanders, and laughed.