Author's Notes: This story is roughly canon compliant through HBP, although the story doesn't extend that far. I confess to having taken a few non-essential liberties with things that were not discussed or were not discussed in detail.
He always looked behind him,
scared somebody would jump him.
Put him on the ground
so he'd come around
to the sound of people laughing.
"Marauders, my arse," he thought. The Filthy Four were not deserving of the glory they heaped upon themselves, in his distinctly un-humble opinion. They had, however, quite cleanly knocked him on his arse, more than once. He shook his head, remembering how he used to sneak through the corridors, hoping Sirius and James wouldn't catch up to him. Remus was alright... well, until that one night, but that was later... and Peter had been too much of a sissy to do much damage on his own.
'Cos the whole world loved to mock him.
Sun and moon both pointed at him.
Kids would crick their necks to get a better view.
Well, it really did his mind in,
No one was entirely sane after a run of years like the ones he'd spent at Hogwarts. Unable to extract himself from his precarious position as the genius that everyone beat on, he had been certain that the stars would fall from the sky, just to take a shot at him.
and we wanted to protect him.
So we placed his face in a smash-proof case
and placed it in the fridge.
It was in much this shape that Lucius Malfoy had found him. Lucius had recognised him as an intelligent and worthwhile companion. And really, even if Lucius was just using him to get better grades in potions, it was an improvement over being completely alone. He started to feel protected and defended, though he figured it wouldn't last long, since Lucius was a few years older and was likely to graduate before him.
They giggled in the corners,
whispered lies across the borders.
They derided him and chided him
'til he carried out their orders.
After a while, even Lucius wasn't so good to him, anymore. He'd become a Death Eater and realised, somewhat belatedly, that no one but Lucius (and sometimes 'Cissa) had any patience for a fragile-seeming potions genius. The Dark Lord appreciated his help, but his rewards were questionable at best.
So he dashed into the limelight,
played at Hamlet for a fortnight.
Waved his arms and screamed demands
for some respect.
Then he'd overheard Trelawney's prophecy and recognised it for the genuine article. He was certain he'd found something worthwhile. Surely they would respect him after this!
But they just could not excuse him,
it was really too amusing.
So he packed his sack
and scrambled back
to safety in the fridge.
His certainty faltered and was finally obliterated by the taunting of his compatriots. He returned to Dumbledore, a man he still didn't quite trust, but who had never openly done him wrong in front of an audience. He was welcomed, which was comforting, but pressed to work as a double agent, which was not.
And I swear I saw his spirit
skim the sky with nothing near it.
Piled armour-plated roller skates,
white feather train to steer it.
Scared somebody would look up,
gesticulate and throw up.
Send him flitting, flitting
scarred behind a cloud.
He'd begun, then, to live an extremely dangerous life in exchange for not being taunted by anyone to whom he couldn't give detention. A small comfort, certainly. He was terrified that someone in the Dark Lord's camp would discover that he was not their leak from Hogwarts, but rather their leak *into* Hogwarts. He lived, he felt, outside of his own control, constantly waiting to be dealt the Cruciatus from behind.
But for him, there's no escaping,
no hole big enough to hide in.
Best just to stay
nicely out the way
in safety in the fridge.
He spent most of his time at Hogwarts, hoping to avoid that very fate, but he was still called back to the Dark Revels. There was no way to avoid going that would not arouse suspicions. He comforted himself with the thought that he no longer had to worry about finding Bella hiding behind his curtains when he got home. That had been a bit much.
In the village bells were tolling,
in the town the dogs were howling.
It was Armageddon,
tanks crashed head-on,
planet Earth was drowning.
Mudbloods were being executed left and right. Buildings were left ashambles with Dark Marks drifting over them. The Dark Lord had begun an all out war to cover his search for the Chosen. It was like watching King Herod's quest.
Then the Devil sent a shower,
Europe died in half an hour.
And a demon wind
just finished off the rest.
He was furious when he discovered that Lily Evans -- Potter -- had died. He'd liked her, despite some things he might have said when he was younger. On the bright side, though, the Dark Lord had died in that fight and the Ministry was mopping up the rest of the Death Eaters rather quickly.
But our friend, he took a teabreak,
idly munching on a fish-cake.
Quite oblivious and ignorant
but cosy in the fridge.
Luckily, he had Dumbledore to speak for him. The Ministry officials were not happy about this turn of events, but on the whole, the Aurors left him alone. He was finally safe. Perhaps not happy, but really, that was far too much to ask for.
It's so cold there, in the fridge.
It's so icy, frosty.
He just wished he didn't have to be alone.