The First of November, 1981

Dear Lily,

Before I start, there is something I need to say. Lily, I love you, and I have loved you since the first time I ever saw you at that playground and it was immediately apparent that you were special. I never told you exactly how much you mean to me, and now you're gone and I can't tell you, that will be the one biggest regret of my life that I shall carry with me to the grave.

I honestly don't know how to put anything else into words. While today the vast majority of the wizarding world has been parading around in purple robes, hugging muggles and partying, I have been unable to do anything but sit in my study weeping, staring at a blank piece of parchment and occasionally writing something stupid, only to scrunch it into a ball and throw it into the waste-paper basket, while I search for words that make sense. Even this, I fear, shall only be a pile of rubbish flowing from my quill, nonsensical ramblings of a distraught mind, so don't expect coherence. Here goes.

I can't pretend I don't feel some satisfaction to think that the Dark Lord has been destroyed, after all, he was the one who took you away from me for good. However, at what cost? If only he'd have acknowledged my request, you would still be alive and I wouldn't have to go through the pain of losing you again. How can I live knowing that you're dead, and it's partially my fault? If I hadn't been so stupid as to pass on the contents of that blasted prophecy to the Dark Lord, Lily Potter would still be more than a name on a sheet of parchment and a corpse lying under some soil in the graveyard of a small village.

Speaking of your grave, as soon as I am able to pull myself together, I really must visit it. Not immediately, obviously, that old churchyard will be full of people, and I really can't bear the thought of people at the moment. The other thing I need to do is to go and see Dumbledore for daring to let me believe he'd keep you safe and going back on his word. He's supposed to be the greatest wizard on the planet, so surely he could have done more to protect you? As far as I'm concerned, he as good as killed you himself.

And don't even get me started on that bastard Sirius Black. I could have told you the minute we met him that he was bad news, I can't even comprehend how you chose to trust that murderer with your life. He was obviously going to sell you out, how could he not, running around Hogwarts with Potter, hexing innocent bystanders (including me) and just bullying people in general? You were completely aware that he once attempted to kill me, and had already shown his true colours as a murderer, so why on earth did you not suspect that he might end up handing you over to the Dark Lord on a silver platter?

I heard on the wireless earlier that Black had tracked down the stupid Pettigrew boy and blown up half a street, full of muggle bystanders. Pettigrew was killed, naturally, and his big toe was the largest part of him they found. I'm telling you, Lily, this man is a lunatic. You ought not to have trusted him. I have no hesitation in speculating that had he not been arrested (laughing his head off, would you believe), the werewolf would have been next – making a clean job of his childhood friends, I daresay. The man's clearly a psychopath. The old portrait of my great, great, great grandfather, who gave a lot of gold to the Ministry of Magic before it all disappeared and we ended up in squalor, that my mother always kept in the house has informed be that old Barty Crouch has sent Black to Azkaban without a trial. I can't help but feel that even the dementors' kiss would have been too good for Black, so I am somewhat disappointed with this result, but in these circumstances I suppose it is the best I could hope for.

I also heard that your son has been sent to live with Petunia and her husband. This I am satisfied with, sending the son of James Potter to live with such an unpleasant woman is a very agreeable outcome, as far as I'm concerned. After all, if you hadn't spawned the kid you'd still be alive.

Well, I must go now, I need to accost Dumbledore for reneging on his word. I'll write again soon. I realise you'll never be able to read my letters, and I'll certainly never receive a response, but I can still pretend.

All my love,

Sev.