Messing With My Mind (to the tune of “Gentle on My Mind” by John Hartford)

 

It's knowing that my scar is always burning like a beacon to my brain
That makes me tend to sit awake in bed for hours with my back against the headboard
And it's knowing I'm not guarded by my mother’s sacrifice or by any spell that Dumbledore can bind

That keeps me always watching, makes me study occlumency, ‘cause I know Tom Riddle’s messing with my mind.

 

It's not flying round the quidditch field and looking out for bludgers now that moves me,
Or racking up a bunch of points for Gryffindor or winning the House Cup

It's just knowing that old Voldy might be cursing unforgivably when I wake at half past two a.m. to find
That he’s been moving icons on the desktop of my memory and for hours he’s been messing with my mind.

 

Though the Order of the Phoenix and the spells surrounding Hogwarts come between us,
And so many adult caretakers keep checking what I’m up to all the time

I still might tend to throw things, angry tears might stain my face and the summer sun might burn me till I'm blind,
But not to where I cannot see him moving through the shadow, leaving lies and always messing with my mind.

 

I dip a bit of potion from the steaming, bubbling cauldron in the classroom
I cork my sample phial so it’s ready to be dropped and smashed by Snape;
Through mist above the potion, I look at Snape with loathing, then I start to pack my things away and find
That Voldemort’s been sneaking, through my curse scar he’s come creeping, and he’s back again and messing with my mind.