Prologue

Sky blue pink. You know that color just as the sun is going down and the sky is the color of cotton candy. The blue sky mixes with the pink clouds and makes this color - sky blue pink. It can only be recreated by artistic geniuses. My tattoo artist can do it. He can also ink me in mother of pearl. But that's beside the point.

I'm so pathetic it's not even funny. I'm thirty five but I'll be twenty three for the rest of my life. In the wizarding world I'm technically dead. In its muggle counterpart I'm what they call the undead. I trust that by now you've seen Anne Rice's Black Humor adaptation of the life of the vampire. Her "dark lovers" as she calls them. I feel poor Claudia's pain as her hair grows back before her very eyes. As she realizes that she shall forever be a child to the world.

The children that live above me are making a ridiculous amount of noise. Even this old castle cannot hide the sounds of victorious teenagers as they bask in the afterglow of a conquest on the Quidditch pitch. And, monster that I am, I cannot find it in my heart to spoil their fun. It helps their case the slightest bit that their triumph was over my rival's house. Severus Snape of Slytherin is the vilest vermin on the face of the earth. I hope that the sound of the fireworks going off in my common room is ringing in the dungeon and preventing him from getting any rest.

How I came to be in this situation - Professor of Mythology and head of Ravenclaw House at the most prestigious academy of witchcraft and wizardry in the country - is some story indeed. Although, it's not so much a story of how I came to be here as how I came to be back here.

It's hot tonight. The air is still and heavy, and there is a sleepy haze about it. As if some giant caterpillar has been toking on a giant hookah and blowing his smoke through my window. I must rub my eyes to stay awake. Strange, for a being like me to be sleepy at night. Although, I know it is because I am getting used to a real human schedule. Thanks to Albus.

Why Albus hired me I do not know. But rumor has it that he hired a werewolf a few years back, and I'm not altogether sure that it isn't pure bullshit. In fact I daresay I believe it. Thank Merlin for Albus.

And my mind wanders back to how I came to be in this position. I'm reminded of a muggle line of dialogue from a particular film that says, "the details of my life are quite inconsequential". I cannot think of anyone they fit more than myself. And yet if I were to tell you my story I daresay you would call me delusional. Shall I risk it? Very well, dear diary. I shall bare myself to you. And perhaps after I have gone you shall reveal the tale and it shall go down as myth and be taught in the very classroom in which I teach a thousand years from now. Or maybe not. But I shall have it off my chest either way, once and for all.