If you’ve received this, something has happened and I am no longer alive, or no longer healthy enough to stop this from being sent. As I sit here it’s odd to imagine something happening to me. My life and my position are relatively sterile and dull. But there is war coming, and nothing is certain. So I have written to all of you because I don’t wish to be remembered as something other than what I truly am. I don’t fear death. My only fear is that one of you die before me, not having read these words. So please, whatever you may think of me, do me the favor of suffering my letters.
Remus and Sirius Black.
This will be short. I have little need to assure you both of emotional feelings. All I want is to make a request. As the days tick by there are odd murmurings here at the Ministry. Something is happening that we can’t make heads or tails over. People are quick to say it’s the war, but I’m not sure.
I can’t tell you more now, though I will edit this letter the more I find out. People are dying, and not the people you would expect. Between the bodies at Gringott’s and the disappearances at work, something is definitely brewing.
At any rate, my father will not listen to me, nor will he look after himself properly. You are in the Order with him, so it’s my hope that he will listen to you. He may well become a target, and I worry about him.
It’s needless to add, I know, but I would appreciate it if you could keep at least half an eye on the rest of my family, inasmuch as it’s possible. There’s a lot of them, spread all over the world. But it’s the young ones I worry for.
You may not think me sincere, but I’d like to thank you. I’ve learned a lot from both of you over the years.