Disclaimer: I own neither Harry Potter, nor The Addams Family. I don't even own the computer I use to write, that's my wife's. All I claim as my own, is the way I've arranged the words into something resembling a story.
Author's note: Thoughts of suicide in this chapter, so if that bothers you, don't read. Considering this is an M rated Addams Family story, you really shouldn't be reading at all if the macabre disturbs you.
I love The Addams Family in all its iterations, and was surprised at how well it can integrate into the world of Harry Potter. Each version of the family is slightly different. I'm basing my characters on the live action movie 'The Addams Family' and its sequel 'Addams Family Values.'
Let me know what you think, any sort of review is more than welcome.
When Harry met Wednesday
The waves crashed violently on the jagged rocks below. He'd been staring down at the meeting point of ocean and cliff for hours now. As he looked back on his life up to this point, he wondered why it had taken him so long to think of this solution.
Starved and neglected as a child, he grew up scrawny and weak. He'd also been forced to endure countless beatings at the hands of his cousin. As he grew older every manner of chore had been heaped upon him. From cooking and dishes, to gardening and home repair, he'd been forced to work for what food he did receive. His cousin gathered like-minded friends, who joined in on his beatings. The only consolation being that he could often outrun his tormenters.
He had thought his troubles had come to an end on his eleventh birthday, when he learned that he was a wizard. He was whisked away to a wondrous world of magic where he learned he was famous! He was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived. Unfortunately his fame brought him more trouble than benefit. He nearly died several times that first year at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, but he was so enamored with magic, that he didn't dwell on it.
Then his life really started to go downhill. A twisted cycle of summer with his horrible relatives, then off to school where his life was in constant danger. Things got worse and worse, and Harry grew bitter. By this point he had learned how to hide his true feelings, so few knew how he really felt. The only exception was the anger that refused to be tamped down. The rage would bubble to the surface, and cause him even more trouble.
The one shining ray of hope was his godfather who'd escaped prison. A man who'd been wrongly convicted, and spent over a decade trapped in the wizard prison of Azkaban, Sirius Black was Harry's ticket to a better life. Unfortunately, he was still wanted by the ministry. No matter the testimony or evidence, Minister Cornelius Fudge refused to exonerate Sirius. The escaped prisoner was too useful as a scapegoat. Still, the hope for a better life was there. Then it was gone in an instant.
Sirius was dead, and Harry knew it was his fault. Not only did Harry's monumental mistake kill his godfather, but his friends nearly all lost their lives as well. Everything good in his life was nearly completely destroyed thanks to him. Thus he stood on the edge, looking down at an end to his suffering. A single thought slowly gaining traction: Just one step, and it will all be over.
Earlier that day
To say Harry woke up that morning would imply that he managed to sleep at all. No, he didn't wake up. He merely got out of bed. Slowly he dressed himself in the castoffs from his overweight cousin. His eyes were puffy and red, and there were clear lines down his cheeks showing where the tears had fallen. He didn't really care enough to even bother washing his face.
Conditioned to do so, he trudged downstairs to prepare breakfast for the Dursleys. He made sure each person was given their meal as soon as they sat down. Once everyone else was eating, he started on the dishes. He would eat whatever was leftover, if anything was leftover. His uncle took perverse pleasure in limiting the amount of food Harry actually was allowed.
As he idly dried the large frying pan, he noticed the shimmer of a disillusionment charm in the bushes outside. Narrowing his eyes in anger, Harry noted exactly where the witch or wizard was hiding.
"I'm going to start on the yard work now." Harry said in a subdued tone. "When I come back in, I'll take care of your dishes."
A grunt from his uncle was the only acknowledgment he received.
After stepping outside, he made a show of heading toward his aunt's prized roses. When he passed where he'd seen the shimmer, his wand leaped into his hand, and he cast a spell precisely where he knew someone was hiding. "Petrificus Totalus." He intoned, quiet enough that the Dursleys or any nosy neighbors wouldn't hear.
Hearing the satisfying thud of his target hitting the ground, Harry moved quickly. He knew he'd probably wind up in court again over using magic while underage, but he didn't care. He wasn't going to be taking anymore risks, and he wouldn't be pulling punches either. For all he knew, the hiding wizard was a Death Eater who somehow bypassed the wards. He ended the disillusionment charm, and bit his tongue to hold back his cry of outrage.
Magically paralyzed on the ground before him, was Mundungus Fletcher. It was the same person who was supposed to have been guarding him when he'd nearly lost his soul to dementors the year before. A petty criminal, Mundungus couldn't be trusted to guard a pile of rubbish. Here he was watching over Harry again, even after nearly costing him his soul last summer.
In an instant, Harry made his decision. He leaned close, and whispered in Fletcher's ear. "Tell Dumbledore that I'm done. Between having Death Eaters teach me, and petty thieves guarding me, I don't believe he cares about me at all. I'm leaving."
Knowing he didn't have much time, Harry ran back into the house. Ignoring his relatives, Harry sped up the stairs, and into his room. He quickly freed Hedwig from her cage, and told her to fly to Hermione or Ron. Understanding his owl's questioning look, he elaborated. "Please girl, I have to go now. Stay with whichever one you want, I'll come for you when I can." Once Hedwig took flight, Harry grabbed his father's cloak of invisibility, his Firebolt, and his money pouch, then ran back downstairs.
For one glorious instant, he entertained the thought of hexing the Dursleys, but he didn't have the time. Instead, he dodged past his uncle and cousin, and ignored the screeching from his aunt. Barreling out the front door, Harry held out his wand to summon the knight bus.
With a bang the purple triple decker bus appeared, and Harry jumped on. Tossing a galleon at the conductor, he said his destination. "Anywhere with a view, preferably of the ocean. I need a place to think." Seeing the conductor was going to ask a question or three, Harry tossed his whole money pouch at him. There was close to thirty galleons inside it. "No questions, and you never saw me."
Nodding dumbly after seeing how much gold he'd been given, the conductor let Harry work his way toward the back of the bus. Normally a bus ride would allow a panicking teen the calm needed to gather their thoughts; however, the knight bus was not exactly known for its calm rides. Sitting in a well padded chair, Harry slid around as the bus careened across the British countryside. Between the sharp turns, and slamming into the chairs of other passengers, Harry's adrenaline was flowing even stronger than when he'd gotten on the insane bus.
Apparently his bribe encouraged the driver to drop him off first. As the bus came to an abrupt stop, the conductor worked his way back to let him know it was his stop. Muttering, "Thanks." Harry disembarked, and the bus shot off behind him.
He had no idea where he was, but it certainly met his requirements. From atop a rocky cliff face, he had a clear view of the ocean. To make things better, there were rock formations shielding him from being seen from behind.
Finally able to catch his breath, he sat down at the edge of the cliff. As he calmed down, the weight of what he'd just done hit him. Chances were, he would be expelled. Even if somehow he wasn't, he was definitely in big trouble. Gazing wistfully out at the tumultuous water, Harry decided that at least for the time being, he would just relax, think about his life, and not worry about any consequences.
Harry lifted his foot in preparation to make that final step.
"You're doing it wrong." A flat voice said.
Startled, Harry nearly toppled over the edge, but ended up falling back and landing on his bum. While groping for his wand, Harry quickly turned to see who had found him.
A pale girl with long black pigtails stood by the rocks wearing a pitch black dress that emphasized her lack of color. She looked to be about his age. "We aren't high enough for the fall to kill you." She said dispassionately. "You'll just be horribly maimed, which I suppose has its own appeal."
"I, No I... Um. I'm not trying to kill myself." Harry lied
She cocked her head to the side and stared at him, much like Luna Lovegood would at times. Only where Luna's eyes were dreamy and unfocused, this girl's eyes bored into him with emotionless intensity. "Are you sure? If you'd like I could help." She offered. "We can go down the the water's edge, and I can help you drown. I understand its a truly terrifying way to die. If you'd rather, I can just slit your throat. A bit messy, but it would be quick."
"No, that's alright. I really don't want to kill myself, honest." This time he wasn't lying. The girl's cold descriptions of helping him commit suicide had put him off the actual deed.
"Pity." Was her only response.
"Wednesday dear!" A woman's voice called out searchingly. Soon a tall beautiful woman wearing a skin tight black dress that brushed along the ground stepped into view. Clearly the girl's mother, her skin was just as pale, and her face nearly as passive. "There you are Wednesday. Who's your friend?"
"I don't know mother." She answered. "He was suicidal, but I think I talked him out of it."
The woman looked at Harry appraisingly. "That's horrible dear. Now then young man."
"Harry." He said, supplying his name.
"Harry, I'm sorry my daughter has ruined your evening." She apologized sincerely. "Since I assume you now have no plans, would you care to join us for dinner?"
Taken aback by the woman's apparent regret that he was no longer suicidal, he was about to reject her offer out of hand. Then his stomach painfully reminded him that he'd not eaten all day. He'd also given away his money bag, so a free dinner was very attractive. "I suppose so, if it wouldn't be too much trouble." They appeared to be muggles, so he decided that if worse came to worse, he could easily subdue them.
"Wonderful." She said with a smile. "Come along then. Pugsley has found the rest of uncle Knick-Knack, and they're waiting in the car with Lurch."
Harry found himself crammed in the back of an old 1932 Packard. It was an American car that was out of place not only due to its age, but its opulence. Lurch the driver, was an extremely tall man who didn't speak, instead he'd moan. Because of this, and his almost blueish deathly pallor, Harry idly wondered if the man was a zombie. The beautiful woman who'd said her name was Morticia, sat up front next to Lurch. Wednesday sat on Harry's right. On his left, between him and Wednesday's brother Pugsley, was what appeared to be a body bag labeled 'uncle Knick-Knack.' Pugsley, as opposed to his sister, had a constant self satisfied smile, and short cropped hair.
The car itself was extremely comfortable, but the ride was decidedly otherwise. Everything about this family was creepy, and he couldn't decide what bothered him more; being pressed up against Wednesday, or having 'uncle Knick-Knack' leaning against him.
Harry was starting to regret coming along with these people. He was tempted to ask about the body bag, but decided he really didn't want to know. Needing to fill the silence somehow, Harry tried to think of a safe subject.
"By your accents, I take it you're from the States?" He asked tentatively.
"Yes. Gomez, that's my husband, thought it would be a nice change to visit family out this way." Morticia answered.
"Yeah, but dad could have bought a better place for us to stay." Pugsley complained.
"He's right, it's dreadful." Wednesday warned.
"Now children," Morticia admonished. "While I admit it is rather awful, it is only temporary. Grandmama is out looking for a more suitable home."
Something confused Harry. "If it's only temporary, wouldn't it make more sense to rent it?"
"Gomez would never do that. An Addams never rents." Morticia said with confidence.
Harry knew he was rich himself, but the kind of money needed to be able to buy a house outright without batting an eye... Either the Addams family was insanely wealthy, or just outright insane. Considering what he'd seen so far, he wasn't discounting both as a possibility.
Considering how his hosts had described their temporary lodging, Harry was surprised to find it was a very pleasant looking country cottage, surrounded by unused farmland. There was a dilapidated barn, but it wasn't like they were living in that. The only thing Harry could think of was that they were upset over the landscaping. What must have once been beautiful rose bushes, was now a twisted mass of dead thorny vines. Where flower beds may have displayed colorful plants, now showed only rotting vegitation.
As the car came to a stop, Lurch got out, and opened the doors for everyone starting with Morticia's. "Come along children." Morticia said, as she gracefully stepped out of the car. "Lurch, be a dear and take uncle Knick-Knack to his wardrobe. I'm sure he's tired after playing with the children all day."
The moaning chauffeur opened Wednesday's door, and she exited just as gracefully as her mother had. Harry followed the pale girl, while Lurch circled the car to let Pugsley out. "What's wrong with the house, if you don't mind my asking?" Harry questioned as he and Wednesday caught up to Morticia.
"Can't you tell? it's so revoltingly cheerful." Wednesday answered. "It's hard to believe, but it was even worse when we arrived. You wouldn't believe the flowers the previous owner had strewn about the place. It was so... colorful."
"Yes dear." Morticia agreed. "Fortunately, I have some skill with gardening. I think the results speak for themselves. Now we just need to do something about the house itself."
"I don't see why we just couldn't stay in the barn." Pugsley complained as he caught up.
"You'll just have to tough it out for now." Morticia said. "That deathtrap is put to better use as a playground for Pubert."
Harry knew that he should be more disturbed by this family, that he should run and not look back, but for some reason he wasn't. He couldn't put his finger on why, but something deep in his gut told him that he should stay. Beyond that, for some reason he was starting to feel more comfortable around them.
Answers to the questions he already asked had only served to confuse him, and raise more questions. Even though he had several burning questions, like why a deathtrap was a good playground, he decided to simply observe quietly.
Lurch using his longer strides, casually passed everyone to reach the house first. While holding the body bag under one arm, he opened the door wide for everyone else. Apparently he was not just the chauffeur, but was the butler as well. He moaned in response to Wednesday thanking him.
The cottage itself and its furnishings were as pleasant and cheery as the exterior suggested. Harry noted with some amusement that everyone else was clearly uncomfortable with the decor. Morticia led everyone to the kitchen, where things were in stark contrast to the rest of the cottage.
There was what appeared to be blood splattered on the walls and ceiling. A messily butchered hunk of unidentifiable meat was laying on the counter with a massive cleaver embedded in the counter itself. A hunched figure was tending two large cauldrons that sat on the stove top. Instead of cooking with the stove, there were fires lit under each cauldron.
"Mama you've returned. Did you have any success in finding a more dreary home?" Morticia asked the grey haired woman.
The woman turned around, and Harry nearly thought he was looking at an actual hag. Fighting the urge to draw his wand, he settled on eying her warily.
"Nothing yet, but have patience. I'll find..." Morticia's mother stopped mid sentence when she locked eyes with Harry. "What do we have here? I can almost taste the magic rolling off you child."
Harry wondered if he could take many more shocks today. Apparently these people weren't muggles, or at least the crone before him wasn't. "What, do you think I'm a wizard or something?" Harry asked, playing it off as a joke, just in case he was wrong about the old lady being a witch.
"Ha!" The crone barked. "A wizard! That explains it. Haven't seen one of your kind in years." she said pointing a gnarled stirring rod at Harry.
"My kind?" He asked, starting to get annoyed at his constant confusion. "You mean you aren't a witch?"
Morticia laid a delicate hand on Harry's shoulder. "Our family has its own magic. Grandmama Frump is a witch, as am I, and my daughter Wednesday as well. Only we aren't the kind of witches you are used to seeing."
"Wands." Granny Frump spat. "Waste of time if you ask me. Your kind would call us squibs because we can't use your pretty little sticks."
"Mama, we've brought Harry here for dinner. To eat with us that is." Morticia chided her mother. "You can talk about magic later. Where are Gomez and Pubert anyway?"
Realizing there would be no confrontation of any sort, Pugsley wandered over to the simmering cauldrons, and reached out a hand to sample one of the brews. A skeletal hand dripping slime rose from the cauldron and swatted Pugsley's hand away. It then waved its finger at the boy as it slowly sank back out of sight.
Granny Frump swung the rod back behind her without looking. It smacked into the back of Pugsley's skull with a resounding crack. Nobody except for Harry reacted at all as Pugsley was sent crashing to the floor. "They're both out back in the fields, waiting for Fester and Dementia to arrive."
An explosion rocked the house, causing dust and small chunks of plaster to rain down on them.
"It appears they are here." Morticia commented lightly.
Dinner had been... interesting. Wednesday's father Gomez wore an expensive if not out of date suit, and a manic grin topped by a pencil mustache. He seemed to take Harry's presence in stride, and for the most part seemed to ignored him.
Fester was Gomez's brother, and Dementia was Fester's wife. Both Fester and Dementia looked like half dead psychopaths They both had pasty, deathly white skin, and were bald. For some reason, they were both covered in soot. Harry had a feeling the soot was related to the earlier explosion, but wasn't sure he wanted to know the details.
The final member of the macabre family was little Pubert. Strapped into what looked like a miniature electric chair, the three-year-old boy cheerfully ate with his hands. Pubert looked like a miniature version of Gomez, including a well groomed mustache that matched his father's.
The food itself was unrecognizable. Granny Frump's advice of starting with the eyes might have been useful, if Harry could tell where exactly the eyes were. He was pretty sure that it was still alive as well. All things considered though, Harry had been forced to eat worse when the Dursleys had tried starving him. The dinner was actually quite delicious, and once Harry got the hang of pinning it down to carve off a piece to eat, he found himself enjoying the meal.
Wednesday sat next to him, and ate with as much emotion as she normally showed. She didn't even flinch when Pubert managed to get a hold of Morticia's steak knife, and flung it at her head. Wednesday's only response was to snatch it out of the air without looking, and casually hand it back to her mother.
Harry had a feeling he should be concerned about the flying cutlery, but for the life of him he couldn't place why.
After dinner, Gomez came up to Harry and gripped his shoulder. "Harry my boy, Tish tells me my daughter talked you out of an early grave." Before Harry could deny anything, or even open his mouth, Gomez led him out the back door. "Death is something to look forward to, there's no doubt about it. However, there is much to enjoy while you drag yourself through the morass of life. Why don't you tell me what happened to make you want to rush into the eternal bliss of Death's gentle caress?"
Harry's silence pushed Gomez into continuing. "People tend to confuse me. There are so many who seem to enjoy such odd things. Sunny days, bright colors, cheerful laughter, all things that should upset a normal person."
"Huh?" Harry was thrown a bit by the older man's topic change.
"You've seen that our family enjoys the finer things in life. The stench of decay, the beauty of freshly spilt blood, the sheer joy one gets from skirting the edge of Death's door. For some reason these things put most people off, but not you. I can tell. You were hesitant at first, but now our way of life intrigues you."
"I guess..." He still felt like the Adamses were disturbing, but for some reason he wasn't disturbed.
Gomez offered a cigar to Harry who politely refused. Shrugging, he lit the cigar, and held it between his teeth."Suit yourself. Anyway, my point is I get the feeling we can understand each other." He pointed his burning cigar at Harry. "Why don't you tell me what made you want oblivion so early in life. If you'd like, I won't tell anyone, not even Tish."
Harry realized that Gomez was now waiting for a response of some kind as he puffed idly on his cigar. His first instinct was to keep quiet, but again there was just something about Gomez and his family. "My life has been hellish, and with very few exceptions, everyone has wanted to control me."
Harry reviewed everything he'd thought about earlier that day while standing on the cliff's edge. Gomez merely listened, nodding every now and then to show he was paying attention. As Harry talked, and Gomez listened, they both walked deeper into the overgrown field.
"Hmm." Gomez mused as he casually rolled his cigar between his fingers. "I must admit, I don't quite understand. The life you described should have done one of two things to you. You should either be a submissive docile wretch, doing whatever anyone asks of you, or a psychopath, wallowing in twisted depravity."
Gomez went on as they both stopped walking. "Instead, you seem to be fairly... What's the term? Ah yes, well adjusted. Anger issues aside of course. I'm not saying you're leaving something out intentionally, but it seems like there's something missing from your tale."
Gomez stared intently at Harry, sizing him up. Coming to a decision, he again changed topics abruptly. "Names can be a window into who a person truly is. Tell me, do you know what your name means?" He asked as he puffed away on his cigar.
Harry looked questioningly at the grinning man. "I can't say I do. Harry is a pretty normal name right?"
"Ha!" Gomez barked as he slapped Harry on the back causing the boy to stumble forward. "Harold is a name for kings! Not just any king though. No, a powerful ruler who commands armies. It is a strong name. One I think suits you from what you've told me of your adventures last year." Gomez pulled the cigar out of his mouth, and a wild look grew in his eyes. "Harry has its own meaning. It means to relentlessly attack or harass. In other words... to torment." His grin widened, and Gomez looked every inch the psychopath. "I think you'll fit in nicely here with our family."
Harry stood alone in the field, and watched Gomez saunter back to the house, laughing in an almost sinister manner. Today had been a day filled with deep thought and introspection. Gomez had just added another layer that Harry needed to examine.
Night fell, casting sinister shadows across the grounds. Harry had hardly moved from where Gomez had left him. His still silhouette was highlighted by the nearly full moon. Gomez and Morticia stood on the patio bathed in moonlight, watching him.
"I keep expecting him to howl at the moon." Morticia noted. "He looks so lonely and depressed. Darling whatever did you say to him? It looks like he may kill himself now after all. Wednesday will be so disappointed that she wasn't the one to help him along."
Wrapping his arms around her, Gomez trailed kisses along her shoulder and up her neck. "I don't think we have to worry about that my love. The boy is just thinking. He told me his life story out there, and I think I made him realize that he was missing parts."
She arched back into him, allowing him better access to her pale throat. "He's missing memories? How dreadful."
"He's missing something. I think he's out there trying to find it again." His hot breath contrasted against her frigid skin.
"Se rappeler les oubliés." She said softly.
His eyes glazed over with desire. "Tish, that's French! You know how that drives me mad." He spun her around and pulled her close, gazing deeply into her own smoldering eyes.
Unable to resist any longer, Gomez swept his wife into his arms and carried her into their bedroom past the cackling form of Grandmama Frump who was busy brewing something putrid in a small cauldron.
Gomez was right, something just didn't fit about how he remembered his life. He kept recalling the way Gomez used 'well adjusted' as an epithet, and how he seemed disappointed that Harry hadn't turned into a psychopath.
Try as he might, he could make no sense out of what he'd been through, and how he was now. It just felt wrong. Looking back at the cottage which looked downright evil in the light of the moon, he was confused at how right the Adamses felt.
Noticing that the two figures watching him had disappeared, Harry decided to give up his soul searching for the night. Perhaps in the morning, after he was rested, things would make more sense.
The walk back to the cabin was long and cold. He was thankful that Gomez and Morticia had offered him shelter for the night, he didn't exactly have anywhere else to go. He did hope someone was still awake, seeing as he had no idea where he was supposed to sleep. There seemed to be flickering lights on in the kitchen area, so that's where he headed as soon as he reached the building.
"Couldn't find what you needed could you child?" Granny Frump said as she carefully poured the foulest smelling potion he'd ever had the misfortune to encounter. "This will straighten you right out." She handed him the potion she'd just brewed. It bubbled menacingly.
"What will it do?" Harry asked, unsure about drinking the foul concoction.
She sat down and motioned for him to join her. "It should unlock any hidden memories you have, and before you say anything, Gomez didn't mention what you talked about at all. I have other, more reliable ways of gathering information." Noting his reluctance to drink, she urged him on. "Go on then, it will do you a world of good. It's my own special recipe, it will also improve your memory." Smiling as he drank, she added, "It also makes a fine drain cleaner, will eat through any clog."
Surprisingly, the potion didn't taste nearly as bad as it smelled, in fact it was almost delicious. He spluttered, nearly choking on the last swallow as he heard her drain cleaner comment. Almost slamming the cup down on the table, he glared at her.
She responded by cackling madly. "I forgot to mention, it'll knock you out for quite a while too. Nighty night!"
The world started to spin, and the last thing he remembered before darkness took him, was her insane laughter.
Author's note: This chapter is a bit on the short side, but it seemed like a good stopping point.
I don't speak French, but I believe 'Se rappeler les oubliés.' translates as: 'To remember the forgotten.' 'Oui.' I'm certain means: 'Yes.'
If anyone out there is artistically inclined, I would love help with making a cover image.
If you like the concept of Harry Potter mixed with The Addams Family, then I highly recommend reading 'Harveste' and its sequels by the author kyaru-chan. She unfortunately no longer updates, but she has written up to year six.
I also have to recommend 'Absinthe Addams and the forgotten identity' by the author Arisana803. 'Absinthe' is inspired and influenced by 'Harveste,' and has the bonus of still being updated.