PROLOGUE : THE BEGINNING

It all began when Merlin, the greatest sorcerer of all time, sat down to play his harp in a green glade, oblivious to all the hustle and bustle of the world around him. I was but a tiny larva then, infantile and naive, on the threshold of becoming a cocoon, when enchanted by the soulful stirrings of Merlin's song, I fell into his lap and looked upto him with my bright yellow eyes.

Reader, that tiny fall was one giant leap for wizardingkind, for Merlin and I at once became bosom buddies, and he christened me after his father as Basil.

Basil.

The yellow-eyed grub who blossomed into a handsome young pixie with blue-and-gold wings, and three slender feelers.

Yes, Reader.

Not two, but three feelers (I dislike the word antenna; they make me sound like a broadcasting station, if you please).

The first feeler was to smell the toothsome dishes prepared by Merlin's granddaughter Magdalena. The second was used to taste the wondrous nectarines of Merlin's great wide orchard. And the third one? Heh, heh, heh.

The third one was -- I suppose Merlin charmed it that way, the sly old fox -- a legilimens!

And if you -- pest of a reader -- don't even know what legilimency means, I really don't know what that says about your IQ. For your kind information, legilimency is the art of external penetration into the depths of the complex minds of humans, and extracting their feelings and memories.

Yes, muggle, you may call it mindreading (sniff!).

Well then, we had a great time, Merlin and I. I was his constant companion, and since we could both read each other's mind, we were intellectually very compatible.

It didn't last long though. I still remember the day when Merlin died -- not as a war hero, but as a shrivelled hunchback...It is painful even now.

He smiled at me with gratitude in his gray eyes as I hovered above him-- his only friend at his deathbed. And he said to me --

"Dear Basil, what a friend you have been to me! My one true friend! Words have never been needed between us, yet as I lie here, weak and forgotten, I feel as if I must speak up. There is a favour that I must ask of you."

I fluttered my wings eagerly. Yes, anything for him. My master, my best friend.

" There is a boy named Ptolemy in Rome, in whom I see the makings of a great wizard. He is bright and brave, and he needs a guide to help him. I want you to go to him, Basil, be his friend and conscience as you have been to me. You are wise and attractive; he will fall for you at first sight. He will listen to you, for you are not noisy or naughty like the others of your kin, and that feeler of yours has always been a useful tool. Will you be Ptolemy's aide, Basil? Will you do that for me?"

I looked at him sadly. Surely, the approaching death had set him off his rocker? I mean, of course, I'm good-looking and blue-blooded and irresistible; all that is very common knowledge. But. But. But. Me, a pixie, old like him...Would I be a suitable dragoman for a nine-year old boy. Me? To be Ptolemy's conscience, when mischief and havoc are second nature to pixies (owing to the DNA linking them to doxies, watersprites and leprachauns)?

Merlin read my mind, and smiled.

"Ah, Basil! You are no ordinary pixie, but a pixie hatched from a dragon's egg on a full moon night! You have thousands of years yet to spend on earth, you cannot possibly think of fading so soon? You were meant for greatness, you know. Your knees might have started to wobble, but thats got more to do with the ink bottle that you smashed yesterday than with your weakening bones. Don't waste your talents, Basil, but go to the boy Ptolemy. He will know..."

And then Merlin breathed his last.

Without wasting more words on the gruesome aftermath of Merlin's death, I will proudly inform you that I didn't dillydally, but set off immediately for Rome. There I met Ptolemy, and we hit it off immediately ( I am that good!).

He was a good boy and I stayed with him till he lost his throne in a battle, and then I decided to move on.

And so, from then on , my life has been a relentless journey from one wizard's lap to another master's cage. Be it Cliodna, Circe, Agrippa, Icicle, Diana or Eric...I have fulfilled the post of a pet and a philanthropist most dutifully and happily.

Till one day -- long after Hengist's murder -- as I sat pensive upon a grassblade disguised as an innocent butterfly, a cat lunged at me from nowhere. It would have been an untimely end for me, if a girl hadn't scooted away the cat with a branch and taken me upon her palm.

A girl with long blood-red hair and brilliant green doe-like eyes.

An angel who walked upon this unworthy earth under the name of Lily Evans.

Reader, I fell in love with her instantly.

She, with her gentle ways and blithe smiles, her melodious voice and bright wit.

She was as enamoured with me as I was with her, and she took me home perched upon her left ear. Her parents received me with delight, mistaking me to be a butterfly

(I am good at camouflage) with some mutation in its genes. Bah!

They bought a glass case for me, a very cosy one too, because it gave me ample space to stretch my large wings and slender feelers.

Her sister was a downright hag, and far too suspicious for my taste. She tried very hard to get rid of me, but I avenged myself by spraying her with my stink glands and wart venom, which caused her to have rashes and miss her date. She stayed away from me after that.

It seems Lady Luck was sweet on me as well, for a year later, when Lily turned eleven, she received her letter for Hogwarts.

Hogwarts! Hoggy woggy Hogwarts! The most esteemed school for honing the magical skills of budding wizards and witches!

My Lily was a witch!

It was a dream come true (Staying with muggles is tiresome; I like to belong in my own world and observe magic, thank you very much!) and Lily and I set off for Hogwarts on a sunny Tuesday morning aboard a gleaming scarlet engine.

I am pleased to say that once we arrived at Hogwarts, Lily's new mates immediately spotted me to be a pixie -- and not a butterfly -- and Lily was most gratified at the discovery. I had been worried she would abandon me for tricking her with my brilliant camouflage, but she didn't. Yay!

And now, its been six years, and I am still the only one allowed to adorn her beautiful hair or pinch her elven ears.

Currently I am perched upon her warm shoulder as I view her fairy-like hands as they turn the pages of a musty, dusty book recounting the tales of valour of exiled pirates.

I sigh in ecstasy. Ah!

I can honestly say that Lily is my favourite companion so far. True, she can never be as wise as Merlin, not as brave as Ptolemy, not as beautiful as Diana, and never as wealthy as Prince Eric. But the head that owns that bounteous fall of crimson curls is a beautiful shrine on its own.

Her touch is as gentle as the Mediterranean breeze, her heart as pure as tears, and her thoughts...I daresay even Merlin hadn't got such imagination.

She is a poet, an artist and my Guardian Angel.

I am not a mere showpiece for her, not a liability either, and she never makes selfish demands of me. She is not vain, even though she is the smartest, prettiest, kindest and most popular girl of her year. I do not have qualms about reading her mind, because it is untainted and devoid of all evil. She is always so full of life and hope, and that is something that I've never encountered before in my eventful life.

She is Headgirl this year, and I cannot think of anyone who deserves the post more.

And so, as I dip my feeler into her flask of pumpkin juice, I feel as if I've found the essence of my existence.

And from here unfurls my tale.