Ouroboros

Author's note: well, here's a new story for you folks. Just know two or three things : first, I'm French, so don't mind the eventual mistakes (though you can tell me if I have written a abomination). Secondly, I'm slow. Very, very slow, so don't mind that either. And then, it's supposed to be rather funny, so just go through the first part and it should be okay.

Hope you'll enjoy!

Chapter 1 : All over again

Today was Harry's eleventh birthday. Again. Everybody had once been eleven. Not him. He couldn't quite recall how many times he had been eleven. No, wait, hold on: he didn't quite recall how many lives he had lived. Too many for his own taste. He didn't know how, or why he wouldn't die. All he knew was that as soon as he closed his eyes because of his death, no longer after, he would open them again, and sometime after, would be hurting. Badly. Nobody remembered his birth. He did. And it hurt a lot. And he was born countless times.

He couldn't remember what his first life was like. Not really. After hundreds of lives, memories began to fade away. Try to have memories worth a hundred lives. You couldn't even remember which were when, imagine the mess in his head at the beginning. The first time it happened, he wondered what the hell was going on – he still did. Never had an answer. He was just, alive, no matter how badly he wanted to die one for all. Funny how Voldemort wanted immortality and kept dying, and how himself wanted to die, but was immortal. Well, sorta.

History could remain the same until Lily Evans turned Potter became pregnant. Not after his birth, 'cause once he managed to…well, kill himself while still in her womb, hoping it would be over if he died before he had a chance to live. No such luck. Never did he do it afterwards, it was horrible to be in a closed space for more than a year.

But did you have any idea how horrible it was to have to learn everything all over again? Learn to speak, learn to walk, learn to move correctly? Because his mind remembered how, but not his body, and that was the worst ever. It was just not in shape to let him do what he wanted to do – like, kill some rat. Or at least, warn someone. Do something! But noooo, dream on, Potter. But once, he managed to actually bite Pettigrew – and that was not nice, let him tell you that – while having the Dragon Pox. His parents could manage to live past this Halloween this time, because Peter couldn't approach the Dark Lord during his sickness – that was very persistent on adult. No, this time, his parents survive until he was five. Then, they were all blown up. Death Eater attack.

Having learn the hard way to let things be, it was the less evil, he had the pleasure to have Lord Voldemort paid him a visit every once in a while. And all he could do was watching his parents die, again, and, occasionally, giving the creepy corpse his finger. This had already been the reason of his death – as much as this bloody prophecy. The very distinguished Very Dark Lord of the time did not cast the Killing Curse that engendered all this mess, he just threw him out the window. His poor less-than-three-feet body didn't bear the fall. What a nice end.

However, he wasn't the only one in this situation. They must be something like two dozens of them all over the world – maybe more, but they weren't about to make an announce of "we're looking for people who cannot die!" in the local newspaper, thank you very much. He had met some of them, and actually two would normally be at Hogwarts with him this year. Except if one of them had decided to do otherwise. That was why History normally remained until his conception: one of the others could do something that could change everything. Like killing Voldemort – or trying. Or drop a nuclear bomb on England. Or something as radical. Well, anyway.

So, during this life, Harry had decided to drive them all crazy. Starting with his family, finishing with Voldie. With Dumbledore, Snape and the Malfoys in the middle. He didn't actually stay with his lovely family and went to Hogwarts in ages. It would be fun.

"So, Uncle," he said, entering the kitchen. "Don't you wish me a happy birthday?"

The fat man had frozen the moment the child had stepped in the room. This bloody, cursed, freaking child. What was he thinking when he decided to keep it near him and his family, really? Once he realized his freakiness was far worse than what he feared, it was already too late. He could swear, this boy was the Devil. Satan. Lucifer. Whatever you wanted! Never in his life had Vernon been so scared of something. Oh, well, there was this time when his sister played him a trick and tossed a mouse in his trousers. He had screamed very loudly. Well, anyway, Harry Potter was the most frightening thing ever, and there was nothing he could do.

"How rude of you," Harry stated with a bored look. The man was not even fun to tease anymore.

His Uncle hid behind his newspaper, probably not fully realizing that tree quarter of his massive body was still in sight. Harry merely rolled his eyes and started preparing himself a decent breakfast – like hell he could count on his dear Aunt. He was interrupted in his track by a yelp – Dudley had decided that no food should survive. And then spotted his cousin. His horrific cousin. The freakiest thing ever. And he just smiled at him, making him yelp again. Harry made an appreciative sound at Dudley's reaction – that one was fun to tease.

"Boy," Vernon surprisingly said to Harry. "Go seek the mails."

"Dudley, you know what to do," the raven-haired-boy simply replied, not even turning around.

"I told you –" his Uncle started menacingly, but stopped neat in his track. This boy was not frightening, no, he wasn't human! No eleven-year-old could glare like that!

"Oh, and Dudley, don't you dare throw my letter away," Harry told him.

"How do you know that?" Vernon spat.

"Like I knew you shouldn't go to that zoo for Dudley's birthday."

The blond boy quickly left the room and the thick atmosphere.

Ah yeah. Dudley's last birthday. When his nephew had freed a huge snake on his son. Seriously, Harry gave him the creeps. Badly.

"And I'll need a trip to London," Harry added.

"What?!"

He was interrupted by Dudley's return with, indeed, a letter for Harry in one of his hands.

"Gimmi that!" Vernon shrieked.

He held the letter in a tight grip and Harry smiled. Perhaps he was fun, finally. A little bit.

"What's that?"

"Go on, open it," he smiled. "This is why I need a trip to London."

Vernon tore the letter open, and as he progressed in his reading, his eyes went comically wide.

"What-wha… you-you…"

"Know, yeah," Harry finished, smirking. "Of course I know. Or do you think I'm stupid?"

No, Vernon did not think Harry was stupid. The fact was, he was probable too clever. The devil had to be clever, after all.

"How long?"

"Much longer than you can start to guess. I'd say before my birth."

"I'm warning you," Vernon shouted. "I'm not paying for you freak!"

"And I wasn't expecting you to," Harry snorted. "Besides, I have so much money I could swim in it."

And he left the kitchen, Vernon gasping and Dudley puzzled.

This afternoon, Harry entered the Leaky Cauldron, and, not even bothering to acknowledge the other wizards in the shabby bar, went straight to Tom, who was drying some glasses.

"Excuse me, Sir."

"Yes?" the bartender turned to him, stopping his activity. "What can I do for you, young man?"

"I need to meet my mum in Diagon Alley, Sir. I needed to grab some stuff in the Muggle London."

Either Harry was a good damn actor, or Tom was definitely a kind man (with a not-so-good name, unfortunately) who did not wish to sneak into one's business, but the fact was, he opened the wall.

"Thanks Sir!" he exclaimed, hopping in the Alley.

"You're welcome, young Potter."

The time Harry spinned around, the wall was already closed. Yeah, nice guy.

Not bothering admiring the street – how many times had he already been there? –, he went straight forwards Gringotts. He walked to one of the desk where one of the strange creature was working on Merlin knew what. Luckily, he already knew how to access his vault.

"Morning, Sir," the young boy said. The goblin held his head up, his eyes looking at him in a rather despising way. Bloody ass.

"Yes?"

"I'd need to access my vault, Sir."

"And your name is?" the little thing asked with such a bored expression Harry wanted to hit him. But Harry was civilized, he did not hit people who could give you money. Even if they were annoying as hell. No wonder why there were so many Revolutions.

"Harry Potter, Sir," he smirked.

"Is that so? And do you happen to have your key, Mister Potter?" the Goblin asked, no longer bored. The Boy-Who-Lived alone in the big bad world, that was quite entertaining.

"Hardly. You know as well as me that Dumbledore got it. But I still need my money."

"…All right. But I don't even want to imagine what will happen of you if you're not Harry Potter."

Harry merely shrugged, and the little creature watched him warily. And then yelled:

" Griphook! Come here and take care of Mister Potter."

The other nodded and led Harry in one of the office.

"So, Mister Potter, you have a problem," the goblin stated.

"Yeah. A vault full and no key. Of course."

"I see. We can deal with that. You wouldn't guess how many wizards in England are sloppy and lost their key. I'll just need some proof of your identity," Griphook declared. "You'd be amazed to see how many Harry Potter live in London."

"Yeah, I can guess," the dark-haired boy snorted. "Have a knife?"

The goblin gave him one. All that simple.

Five minutes later, Harry made his way towards Mme Malkin, with enough money to buy the entire alley. Better safe than sorry. The lady was on him ten seconds after he put a foot in her shop and directed him to another part of the shop, as usual. And, as usual, Draco Malfoy was already sitting there. Why was that he was always there, no matter when he came? He came the 31st of July, he was there, he came two weeks later, he was also there! Now, he had yet to decide if he was going to make of the blond a life-long enemy, or a possible friend. Both were equally funny. Well, he'd see at Hogwarts.

"You're also going to Hogwarts?" he dumbly asked. Harry rolled his eyes.

"No, I'm the next Minister of Magic."

One of the blond eyebrow rose – Harry had always wondered if he didn't pluck them – and the dark-haired boy shook lightly his head. Malfoy seemed unaffected and continued anyway – making Harry want to slam his head somewhere.

"My father went to gather my books, and my mother my potion ingredients, so I'm stuck here to get my robes and uniform." Oh, really? "Then I'll try to go to the Quidditch shop and take a look. Father says it's a shame that the First Year couldn't own a broom. He'll try to find a way to bypass this law, so I could fly this year. By the way, do you know which house you'll go? I'm pretty sure I'll be in Slytherin, all my family's been there, but I guess Ravenclaw wouldn't be that bad. But can you imagine the horror of going to Hufflepuff? I think I'll leave."

Harry was 'listening' to the blond with a bored expression. Well, he was bored. Really, Malfoy would always be the same.

"Y'know, Blondie, not everyone has to be interested in what you have to say," Harry snorted. The blond seemed vaguely offended, but not nearly as much as he should be. Besides, he brushed the nickname away. Such a killjoy.

"I'm a Malfoy, of course everyone is interested in what I have to say."

"Well, I'm not."

The blond didn't have the time to retort, Mme Malkin was coming back with his clothes and he followed her to pay his purchases.

"See you later, Malfoy, and stop worshipping Daddy, it's lame."

Draco quite didn't know what to think of… well, he didn't know his name. Anyway, this guy was weird. He was a Malfoy, dammit!

Next stop was Ollivander. And the old man was as weird as always. He rather liked him.

"Ah, Mister Potter, here you are. I was waiting for you."

Sometimes, he wondered if he wasn't a little bit like him.

"Well, let's try some wands and destroy my shop, isn't it."

Sometimes, he was almost sure this man was always the same. Anyway.

He tried several wands – half of the shop, it seemed – and indeed, did some damages. Ollivander brushed the problem with a wave of the hand, and Harry shrugged – it wasn't his shop, after all. And, eventually, the old wizard went in the far end of the shop and took the all-too-familiar black box and handed him his soon-to-be wand. When he waved it, small silver and black sparks appeared.

"Seems like fate cannot be changed," Ollivander said thoughtfully.

"Yeah, sometimes it can't," Harry approved, making a small smile appear on the man's lips.

"So let's be it. Same as usual, seven Galleons."

"No speech on "how strange" this is?" Harry sneered.

"Why, you want one?"

"Err… No, thanks."

"Figured," the shopkeeper smiled. "See you later, Mister Potter."

"Hope not."

Harry left the shop with his wand. Sometimes, he even wondered if the man was not there when this shop first opened.

A month later, Harry entered the kitchen, causing his three charming relatives to stiffen, at his great pleasure, and said bluntly:

"You'll have to drive me to King's cross in ten minutes, dear Uncle."

"Who are you to give me orders?" the lovely man said. Geez, how he could be related to this family, he'd always wonder.

"A wizard?" he proposed innocently, toying with his wand.

"You cannot do your freakiness here! You'll be arrested!"

Yeah, unfortunately, his dear uncle had fallen on the part about his inability to perform magic until his seventeenth birthday. He'd need to ask Ollivander to take this bloody Tracking Charm off of his wand in the close future, it was becoming well damn annoying.

"Perhaps, Uncle, but I'm sure I can find another utility for a wood stick, and I can tell you "nether region" and "pain". Wanna try?" The man shuddered. "I figured so. Now move your ass and start the car."

Vernon paled and compelled. There were more than one reason for this bloody child to have obtained his son's second bedroom. One of them was that, he was the devil. Another one was that, he behaved not like he should. He had nothing to do with a child, especially an abused one, and he was damn strong. How many times did he or Petunia try to punish him for his insolence? They couldn't seem to be able to touch him.

It would be a bless for them that he was away, would he not come home worse next year. Well, he didn't even want to think about it.

Harry followed his uncle with a smirk, knowing exactly what he was thinking about.

Petunia and Dudley sighed of relief when the monster left the house.

Harry left the vehicle without a word or a glance for his uncle – not that he would have liked, anyway. He made his way in the overcrowded train station – between muggles and wizards, there was far too many people for him – and quickly arrived between the quarters 9 and 10, where, as usual, the whole Weasley family was already standing. He came to a halt, waiting for the redheads to disappear behind the wall, and so was he taken aback when someone told him:

"Got lost, honey?"

Molly Weasley was just in front of him.

Molly Weasley was just in front of him, and he hadn't seen her coming. How the fuck she had managed to sneak here was a hell of a mystery. God was it horrible to come back untrained all the time. He had a lot of work in front of him.

"Err, not really, Ma'am. Just waiting for someone."

While he answered, Mrs. Weasley was watching the rat perched on his shoulder warily, and so was Ron. Because he was strange colored, with grey, white and stains of green, as his eyes. But mostly because the rodent seemed to be radiating evilness. Harry loved his rat.

"And what may your name be, dear?"

Before Harry had the time to give himself a false name ("What?! You're the Harry Potter?!), someone behind him shouted:

"You!?"

Harry turned to face the youngest Malfoy, his father not far behind, scowling – shouting was definitely un-Malfoy-ish.

"Hm? Ah, Me-And-My-Father. Wassup? Need my advice for a new hairstyle? Or you need help to shove that broom out of your ass?"

Harry actually managed to shock both the father and the son. Hey, not bad. Shame he didn't have a camera, for further blackmail… A faint click! next to him, informed him that someone else had thought about it. He didn't need to turn around to know it was Fred and/or George.

"You are so giving me duplicates…"

"Of course," one of the twins snickered, big grin plastered on his face.

"That was brilliant."

"Wouldn't have said better myself."

"You rock, buddy."

Harry just smirked.

"And what's your name, kiddo?"

He merely scowled – he was a still a kid, after all. Well, sorta. It didn't really matter, anyway.

"Am sure you can guess by yourselves. Unfortunately."

Further away, Molly and Ron were wondering how their siblings could find one's name. But the twins took the hint – that was why Harry liked them.

"Oh, such disdain saying that," one of them started.

"Must be some kind of celebrity," his brother continued.

"Much likely against your will."

"And that means that you,"

"You're probably Harry Potter."

The dark-haired boy just smiled at them.

"Ah, Merlin, we're so smart," one of the redheads sighed dreamily.

It actually made him laugh.

"So you're the famous Harry Potter," one pissed Lucius Malfoy hissed.

"Nooooo, I'm Gilderoy Lockhart's son, can't you see? Why, we look so much alike. You should see an eye specialist, Sir."

One pissed off Lucius at that. Harry's smile widened, annoying the hell out of the blond-haired man.

"Don't mess with me, brat!"

"No worry, I'm busy, if you don't mind."

The wizard looked positively murderous. Harry wondered five minutes if he was going to cast the Killing Curse right now and then or if he would wait.

"So insolent…"

"What, that's all you can come with? What, all lost because Master's gone? If you love so much being held in leach, I could present you someone, he's looking for a new dog, he ran over his with his car."

Malfoy was now fuming, with an interesting kind of red on his face. Draco didn't quite understand what was going on, just that this boy, the Boy-Who-Lived no less, was standing up against his father, without even blinking. Draco couldn't help but be a little bit impressed, but would have like to be very, very far away from his father right now, cause he seemed on the verge of bursting pretty badly. Merlin had mercy on his soul…

"You are going to pay, Potter." He then stormed away with his son, scaring the crap out of dozens of people in the process.

"Sure, sure," Harry muttered, waving a hand dismissingly.

"You're aware you're now on the bad side of Lucius Malfoy, right?" Fred asked worryingly.

"Very, very bad side," George whistled, amused.

"Don't worry about him," Harry chuckled lightly. "I'm unreachable."

"He's gonna make your life a living hell," George pointed out.

"This I can deal with."

The raven-haired boy smiled, and the twins couldn't help but return it.

"So, Fred, George," Their eyes widened. "Care if I rode with you? It'd be boring, otherwise."

"How do you know our names?" Fred hesitantly asked.

"That, Fred, is a secret. Count on you to find what it's about, though."

He then turned around and crossed the wall without hesitation, letting the twins startled, but surprised. In a good sense. Who would have thought the Boy-Who-Lived was like that?

"Wait, hold on," Ron then said. "Harry Potter? Like, the Harry Potter? Hey, wait!" he yelled, following the young boy. "Can I see your scar?"

From the other side, you could hear a laugh.

God was it huge, was all he could think when he saw – at last, for the first time ever – the monster Lee Jordan brought with him. When he had said 'giant tarantula', he was not kidding. He would even say it was an undertastement. He was sure if ever Ron was to see that thing, he would faint in the second – or go nuts, he was not certain.

"Geez, where the hell did you find that?" he asked the older boy, bewildered.

"Abroad," the tan-skinned teenager smiled. "There were strange people, but I loved them. However, they probably would give the creeps to all the good, stuck-up folks and make them run away peeing in their pants."

"Strangely," Harry snickered. "I don't doubt that in the least."

"What? The stuck up or scaredy-cat part?"

"Both?"

Lee just nodded. Well, wasn't it fun. Now, if he could find one (or both) of the two idiots, it would be better, but, hey, his name was Harry Potter, by definition, one hell of a jinx. Malfoy had just opened the door of the compartment, and was scanning the room disdainfully.

"Potter. Here you are. We were looking for you."

Harry eyed the blonde and his two gorillas.

"We? With your three brains combined, you can hardly simulate one person, let alone several…"

Malfoy scowled, and the two bulls just stared… well, dumbly.

"I'm gonna ignore that," the blonde declared. Harry just sighed. Dammit. Malfoys sure were dense.

The intruder glanced at the Weasleys and said: "Second-hand made clothes, red hair, cur looking. My father warned me. You must be Weasleys."

Harry barely resisted the urge to hit him. Barely. He just rolled his eyes.

"Hey, look, they're the poor, I'm the tramp. And I sure have more money than you."

It was true, he didn't manage to acquire decent clothes in this life, you couldn't ask for both food and clothes. And the ones he bought when he was in London were still neatly packed in his trunk, having told himself to keep them for later.

"Now, if you don't want to see your almighty blonde head set in fire, get out, otherwise, endure your pain."

Because he was just plain scary, Malfoy left quickly.

"You're stupendous," the twins both whistled in awe.

Harry quietly entered Ron's compartment few hours later. Sitting with him, Harry spotted Neville – who, amazingly, had his toad in his hands, for once the damn thing wasn't lost – and a guy he was pretty sure would finish in Hufflepuff. If he could remember well – few hundreds of times – Zacharias Smith, or something like that. A pain in the ass.

"Yoh, Ron," he saluted.

"Harry!" he exclaimed, getting the attention of the two others passengers.

At that moment, Malfoy showed himself at the door, probably planning to insult Ron and everyone in there, but as soon as he laid his eyes on Harry, he retreated – ah, it felt so good.

The others shrugged the strange behavior – who was it, anyway? – and reported their attention on the newcomer.

"Harry Potter?" Neville asked. Clever boy, despite all Snape could tell.

"Yup. Don't even need to introduce myself, isn't it awesome?"

"Rather unlivable, I'd say," the soon-to-be Gryffindor replied. Yeah, clever.

"As you say."

"So, you really destroyed You-Know-Who? How did you do that?" Smith asked excitedly.

Harry gave him a blank stare, but the excitement never left the blond-haired boy. And people wondered where all this jokes about blondes came from, really.

"Simple, really. I hold a mirror for I'm-Half-Dead-BUT-I-Won't-Die-Cause-It's-So-Pissing-You-Off to take a look at his face, and that scared him to death. Heart attack."

Zacharias was looking at him dumbfounded, Neville was snickering, and Ron was mildly wondering how he should take that, and decided not to take it at all: he more or less understood how the raven-haired worked, and was living with it. He rather liked it, in fact.

"Well, anyway," Harry sighed. People were… annoying, sometimes. "Ron, have any chess play?"

Ron started to illuminate the compartment. Here was something he was un-beat-able at. He was going to slaughter him. Harry's face darkened. No way he would win. As ever. Dammit.

"Okay, okaaaay," Harry sighed tragically, after he lost the 24th game (in hardly an hour and a half). "You're the best, you're the king, I'm the buffoon, and I'm so utterly and ridiculously shitty at this game that it's almost sad."

"Talk for yourself," Ron grinned.

Harry glared at him and undertook to pout a little bit. Not for the first time since he entered the compartment, his eyes landed on a cage, with Scabbers in it – why do you think he lost so bad? He was not that hopeless. Or so he liked to think.

The blasted rat perhaps sensed his killing intent, and popped one eye up, and hoped he hadn't. Because a fine mix between two of his old best friends was looking at him, he could swear, evilly. He resumed his nap.

Yeah, yeah, sleep while you can. Harry gave him two months before Sirius was released.

"So, another –" Ron started, perhaps a little bit too happy. Oi, everybody couldn't be so strong at chess, hn.

"No," Harry cut hastily. He had lost his face enough for today, thank you very much.

Harry was glaring and Ron smirking when the lady with all the sugary crap made her appearance. Harry loved the old lady. Neither of the three boys seemed to buy anything, but he took it all: he was damn hungry and willing to share (it was not his money, anyway. Lee had lost a bet about how loud Draco Malfoy would scream if he was to drop his monster on his head.)

"Well, you sure are starving," Neville commented, grinning. Harry smiled back.

"It's not all for me. Serve yourself."

Zacharias shot him a wary glance, and Harry merely shrugged. He could do whatever he wanted for all he cared, and he had enough to eat for the whole train. But, as he remembered, Zacharias was an ass.

"We recognize rich people. Waste all their money."

"It's not yours, what do you care? Besides, nobody asked you to eat anything, there are plenty of people on that train who'd be all too much happy to –"

"CHOCOLATE!" someone shouted opening wildly the door.

" – Eat you part," Harry finished, unfazed.

The newcomer, another eleven-year-old, with disheveled sandy blond hair and bright brown eyes, took a hold on a handful of sweets, and in one minute and a half, had gulped that down. Only then did he pay attention to Harry, who was staring at him, blasé.

"Wha?"

"You're such a geek."

"Yeah, my all life revolves around sugar. You know that."

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Hello to you too, Harry," Kevin teased.

The raven-haired just glared harder. Why did he put with him, already? Yeah, right. They were in the same boat.

"By the way," Kevin resumed. "You were pretty well hidden, mate, makes an hour or so I'm looking for you."

"Sorry you're blind," Harry smirked. His friend just stuck his tong out ("That was mature." "Wha, you said something?").

They were in a glaring contest, the first one in that life, but not the last one, you could be certain of that, for a moment, so Ron broke the silence awkwardly.

"Who's that?"

Harry torn his eyes from Kevin's and landed them on the redhead.

"Oh, sorry. It's always like this. Ron, that is ("'That' tells you to sod off." "I can guess.") Kevin Entwhistle, perhaps the most annoying guy you'll ever see. Kevin, this is Ron Weasley (but you already know that), who I cannot seem to beat at chess. Definitely."

"Wha, you lost again?" Kevin sneered. "Man, I didn't see him for ages, but Jason already owes me loads of money."

One of Harry's eyebrows shot up.

"We bet again, dude."

The raven-haired rolled his eyes. Of course, he should have known that.

"You've seen him, by the way?"

"Yeah, two years ago. At the hospital. I think he fell from the Astronomy Tower, or something like that, and he had to be transferred to St Mungo. You know him."

Yeah, he knew. If Jason was something, it was daredevil. High death rate.

"Why were you at the hospital?" Harry frowned. If Jason was a scatterbrain, Kevin was not so careless. He made people do the dangerous stuff for him.

"My little brother, he had the Dragon Pox, and Mum wouldn't let me at home alone with Heath," he answered.

"Wise move," Harry pointed out.

"Yeah. Last time, he blew the house up," the blond-haired boy shivered.

"Oh, that was that! Wondered where you were."

Kevin sighed. Yeah, his brother was a hell of a psycho who kind of liked a little bit too much the word "boom". Kevin learned it the hard way. He took another handful of sweets, to cheer up.

The door opened one more time.

"Hello, Hermione," Harry greeted, and Kevin rolled his eyes. Yeah, great idea to appear as a Seer. Although… The raven haired just shrugged and picked some random candy and engulfed it.

Whatever she was going to say lost itself, and Hermione's eyes widened.

"How do you know my name?"

"I know a lot of things," Harry mysteriously replied, and Kevin snorted. "And no, there's no toad here." Hermione furrowed her eyebrows.

"What toad?" she hesitated, and Kevin burst of laughing.

"Hahahaha," he roared with laughter, bringing tears in his eyes.

"Wha?"

"The toad's just beside you."

And he resumed his guffaw, while Harry glared at him.

"Yeah, true. What are you doing here, then?" he pouted. Kevin was right: he had been screwed, Trevor was in Neville's hands. Damn.

"I – I…"

"Whatever," Harry sighed. "Hey, Kev, let's find someone or bring chaos on our sweet little world, I want to move my ass."

"That was genteel," the blond boy snorted.

But they left the compartment anyway, taking with them enough junk to feed at least twelve persons for three days, and living bewildered people in their wake, some wondering about their sanity.

Why did I name this fic Ouroboros? Because this is the great serpent devouring itself, eating its tail, meaning there is no end (cause there is no tail), so it doesn't stop. Like Harry's life : it never ends. Got it? Otherwise, I could try to explain it more clearly, perhaps.

And, don't get me wrong, I love Lucius (sometimes), Draco and Severus (but not Zacharia, he pisses me off)

So, what do you think about it? Cause if you don't like it, I'm just gonna write it in French and make the four people I can force read it and reviewed it. Anyway.

I started the second chapter, but I can't know when it'll be finished, however. Liked it? =D