Disclaimer: This world doesn't belong to me, and neither do most of the characters. The plot does though, so I hope you enjoy it! (Any improvements/comments would be welcome!)

Dear Lily Evans,

As someone who has met you and has your best interests at heart, I am writing this letter so you can have a better future. The world has gone to hell, with a madman controlling everything that happens around here. Sure, there are resistances and people who don't live under his thumb, but that's a thing of the past. For us, those rebels belong to a time when the flames of hope and good burned bright.

I don't know when our other letters will reach you. It could be a day later, or a year. We have no way to predict this. This is our last hope. If this is the first letter you have received, then know that the other letters will reach the Marauders. And I highly doubt that they will show you their letters without you having their trust. Based on personal knowledge, you became pretty close with them.

Now, to the information we can give you. Always keep this on you or spell it so that you're the only one who can see it. Voldemort, or you-know-who, has created containers for parts of his soul. He has made seven of these in our time, but by our estimation, only 5 were made by 1980. The objects include a diary, a ring, a locket, a cup, a diadem, a snake and a boy. We know you don't have to worry about the boy. The rest is unknown to us.

I also have some personal advice to give you. It can be disregarded if you wish, but it might help you in your life.

'It's not paranoia is they are actually out to get you.' I learned this from a popular auror of your time, Alastor Moody. However gruff he is, it's an honor to learn from him.

Trust your friends but remember their limits. In a desperate situation, anyone and everyone can betray you, including your best friend. And it isn't a betrayal unless it's from someone close, someone you'd never expect.

If nothing else, I hope you do what needs to be done so that you can live beyond your teens. So you can live to view the world and see its beauties, not just its horrors.

A child of the times.

"You're pretty dramatic." The redhead peeping over the writer's shoulder said. His hair was long enough to fall into his face as he balanced precariously, so that he could read the letter.

The writer smiled, the scars on his face pulling gruesomely. He might've been handsome once, but his beauty seemed to have drained from him, turning him into a soldier rather than a lover. "I live for the drama, little brother."

The younger redhead didn't smile, knowing the hollow feeling inside him would never subside. They were the only two remaining of their family, which was both an achievement and a curse.

"I should send the letter." The younger one held out his hand.

The older narrowed his eyes at him. "Are you sure about this? The information here is correct?"

"Are you doubting my knowledge now?"

The older subsided. "This is the most dangerous thing you will ever do, you know that right?"

"Of course. Now, give me the letter and the knife."

The younger smiled at his brother as the older rummaged through his pockets to remove the knife. The older brother held the knife out. The split second before the younger could take the knife, the door flew open and a sickly yellow spell hit the younger straight in the back.

The older man reacted quickly, soldier's instincts calling for action first and talking later. His hand was a blur as he flicked his wand, creating a glowing silver shield. He turned to his brother then, and his eyes widened at the way his arms were disappearing.

"Do it!" The younger one yelled. "Just send the letter Bill!"

Bill scooped up the letter, standing right beside his younger brother. He placed the letter on the floor, chalking a few runes around it and muttering a spell. He rushed through the spell, scrabbling for the knife at the last second and cutting his left palm open over the letter.

Light flared, bright and painful.

When it subsided, the letter was gone.

Bill turned to his brother, who was missing his legs as well.

"Did you do it?" The younger brother asked, not looking at his missing arm and disappearing legs. Bill had seen many horrors in his short life, but this had to be the worst.

"I don't know if the year was right," Bill replied, paying little attention to the Death Eaters. "But it's done. Our ritual is complete."

The younger brother sagged, torso disappearing until his head was suspended in thin air. "I'll see you on the other side then."

"I love you, little brother."

The boy disappeared completely. Bill sat back on his heels, staring at his hands as the blood slowly fell from his left hand. There was nothing more to do. It would take but a few more seconds for the ritual to take effect, and then it was all up to the recipients. He hoped it went well.

He felt the change as it happened, the ripple like a shockwave. It reached the Death Eaters first, and they fell, like puppets cut from their strings.

It reached him milliseconds later.