I can remember it so clearly.

The school was on fire. There was screaming all around us. Bodies were littering the corridors, the courtyards, the lecture halls, everywhere. Actual bodies. Of people I knew. People I cared about. I was only seventeen.

I hate that I know I still got off easy. There were kids much younger than I was. Kids who didn't make it. Kids who did . Their best friends may not have, though. A lot of them had parents on the wrong side - some of them had parents that were there , even. No, I got off easy. My parents weren't on the wrong side.

Their side won.

And I hate it.

My name is Juniper Nott, and I was 17 years old (well, I still am. But I'm nearly 18 now) when Harry James Potter died. You-Know-Who rose to his full power (I mean, who else could really have stood up to him and beaten him?) and now this is the world we're living in. Anyone who wasn't a pureblood or half was either immediately killed, forced into hiding or… Well... They won't actually tell us what they do with the ones they didn't kill. I'm not sure that I really even want to know, if I'm being honest. I suppose I'm lucky (again) that I don't have to know that.

The day that the Dark Lord rose to power, my parents were promoted, basically. They were some of his most faithful, most reliable death eaters. I, their rebellious as ever Hufflepuff daughter and the disappointment of the family… Well, I was doing my best to try and keep any suspicion away from me. I had to try and blend into this new world if I wanted to stay alive and well.

It isn't all dark, though. Of course, most of it is. The Dark Lord had claimed initially that as long as half bloods and muggle borns complied with his rule, no one would be hurt. He lied. Of course. There are daily - if not hourly - raids, lies, treachery, murder… The Ministry of Magic has essentially been made into a joke. A very thinly veiled front in an attempt to establish some standing order amongst the chaos and death. There is still a small band of rebels, though. Underground, mostly. Especially considering the majority are either half blooded or less. Whenever they hold meetings, they have to basically drown the immediate surrounding area in protection spells - that have to be cast by a pureblood. The Ministry put out a law almost immediately following that night at the castle stating that if anyone deemed less than "pure" were to cast magic, they would be immediately called in for "questioning". As far as we know, none of these people have been seen since.

So the rebel group uses their pureblooded members to set the protection spells so that they can hold their meetings in some sort of safety. They never meet in the same place, though. It took ages of trying to convince my loyalty to them for them to trust me, especially considering my family. I… I think that honestly my family and blood status may be why they're sending me out on this mission. I would be lying if I said I wasn't afraid. I think that's why I decided to write this letter. Just in case something were to happen to me.

A few weeks after I joined, one of the other members (I literally don't even know who, they didn't tell me) "discovered" who my parents were and decided that they didn't trust me anymore, and other people shouldn't either. People started getting suspicious of me, which was ridiculous, honestly. They thought I was a spy. Granger still trusted me, thankfully. I probably would've been out on my own if it weren't for her.

After a while, they came up with some big plan, mission or whatever - my mission. They're going to send me back in time to that night. The one in May that I see every single time I close my eyes. I'm supposed to get in, make sure Rowena Ravenclaw's diadem actually burns this time, and get out. I guess that's why Harry lost. Because they thought the Dark Lord's last horcrux was destroyed, but it wasn't. Someone had found it and snatched it somehow before the room went up completely in the fiendfyre.

So basically my job is incredibly dangerous and could fail completely and get me killed. But some of the members were insistent that I prove myself even more than I already have. And while I'm big on self-preservation and, um… Living… I know that I have to at least give this my best shot. I'm writing this letter just in case, though. I want my parents to know that while I still love them, what they did was inexcusable. I want my friends to know that even if I don't make it, I'm still with them always, and I love them more than I can begin to think of how to describe.

Anyway, I should get going now. I'll leave this letter in the bag I'm leaving in the present time with Hermione. Hopefully all goes well and this letter won't even matter. Or make any sense even in the present day with Harry alive instead. Okay. Enough stalling. Here I go. Wish me luck.

Juniper N. Nott