Sadly that was not a childs fairy tale on which you can close the book or rip out the pages. It's the beginning of my life. Of our lives I should say.  My name is Emily Jenkins and twelve years ago Lord Voldemort tore apart my the lives of myself and everyone my two year old self could care about. 

The face that haunted her Mother and wove in and out of her own dreams was stuck in her mind. Emily curled up feeling numb, icy fire raging in her stomach as she tried to rid herself of the image that was burnt into her eyelids. The gaunt, sunken face with dead grey eyes that had watched her so carefully; not even knowing who she was. 
She was too old now; to be recognised. But she still remembered him.

The burning question was, why would a man who had turned his back on his pureblood mania family and Slytherin house, who loved his best friend like a brother, who ran away from home at the age of sixteen and spat openly in Lord Voldemorts face betray them all to the man who incorporated everything he despised? 
Why would you change you're mind after a life time of trying to break free of the darkness?

The memories of his past at Hogwarts were haunting him at every turn . To come back, years later to his real home. The only place in which, she guessed he had ever truly been happy. But though he could retrace his steps through the familiar corridors he could not step back into the past. This was not the Hogwarts he had known.

And being here would not make him any closer to the days before it all went wrong.

The question was cold and Remus winced. Emily felt a grim satisfaction at cornering him, he backed into his office gesturing for her to keep her voice down and Emily marched into the room. She wanted him to deny it, to say it was only a childish fear, that it had never really happened. That she was merely imagining things; getting confused, mixed up with what was real and what wasn’t. 
“Did you?” She demanded. 
“Emily-“he faltered and it was all she needed. 

In the shrieking shack, just on the outskirts of Hogsmeade however, Sirius Black gazed at the dust coated over head canopy of the four poster bed in the shabby upstairs bedroom.

Sleep had evaded him for twelve years.