Title: Harveste Addams and the Chamber of Secrets

Crossover: Harry Potter and the Addams Family

Summary: Parselmouth, a Chamber and Lockhart. Well, well, well…

Warning: Addams Family Sadism and Cross-dressing

This must be what they mean by inspiration…when you lay awake at night with your characters stampeding through your brain, then waking up at the crack of dawn. Literally. 5. 30 AM. My brain was like, that's enough, now get downstairs!

I'm surprised no one mentioned Snape's scene. I loved that he got pwn'd, hehe. Anyways, thank you guys SO much for continuing to read this story. Just three hours after posting and I got four reviews! Shura Magami, you read my mind (now that's scary) and don't you worry! We've got six more years to go! And technically Harveste did kill that troll. Ri-nee-chan, my dear, my brain went into little pieces at the thought of a Naked Quidditch Match. Hellkeeper6, you'll just have to see, ne? Ninggay, yours was one of the first reviews and Harveste is rubbing his hands at the possibilities. As for the rest, darlings, this is for you. And please keep your eyes peeled for spelling mistakes! I am beta-less at the moment, and no I won't be taking anyone for the Harveste Addams series. It would just tease everyone else.




"Unicorn blood! You do love me!"

"Of course I do." Harry smiled indulgently as his sister hugged him, then grabbed her wrist and spun her out. The knife in her hand glinted maddeningly in the candlelight. "Minx."

"You said you were rusty!"

"Yes, I believe I did."

Something whispered through the air and he leapt back, his eyes snapping up to look at the second floor railing. The dynamite exploded a foot away, peppering his open umbrella with shrapnel. A particularly sharp piece sliced through the lace and he caught it in one hand.

"Honestly, Pugsley."

Wednesday executed a textbook backflip, pulling a particularly wicked cleaver off one wall. Pugsley hefted another bomb. This looked bigger.

Harry smiled and took out his fan. Its edge flared silver in the dim light.

"Look at them." Morticia's voice was calm over the metallic din.

"Yes," Gomez' teeth were clenched around a newly lit cigar, his arm around his wife as they looked on. Sawdust and smoke were already making it hard to see. "Madmen, the whole lot."

"It's so nice to have them home again."


Harry glared at the contents of his closet. There was an eep, and a scaly, graying hand was withdrawn, vanishing in front of Hermione's fascinated eyes.

"I leave for a year and everyone forgets their manners." He said. "Bloody boogeymen…"

"Don't worry about it, Harry." There was a two-inch tear down the side of her blouse, but there was no blood. "I can sew it up in a jiffy."

"You're too kind. I've got something that will fit you. Wait just a sec."

Harry stepped into his closet. There was a faint gurgling, and then the sound of someone kicking at a sack of wet meat. Hermione winced at a thin, high wail that pierced the air, then it was cut off, and Harry stepped out again, a dress in his hands. It was black, and she hadn't expected any other color, but it differed from all the other dresses that Harry wore because the roses printed on it weren't wilted.

"It's very pretty."

"You can keep it. It isn't my style anyway. I'm not one for flowers."


There was only one way to describe this place: Pure Bedlam.

Blaise ducked yet another arrow that whistled overhead, pulling Draco down with him. This was not the way he imagined his summer.

"Stay still, damn you!"

"Skunks aren't pets, Maman."

"No, they're dinner!"


"Harveste, are you sure this is safe?"

Harry chuckled behind his hand. He had been certain Wednesday would have strapped someone into the Chair sooner, but his friends were surprisingly adept at hiding and evasion. There was hope for them yet.

Draco blinked at him from the Chair. The metal around his wrists and forehead were the exact shade of his eyes. "Harveste?"

"Safety is just another state of mind." Wednesday whispered darkly, a grim smile pasted on her face as she clutched the throw lever. "Ready?"


"Darlings! Tea!"

"We're just…doing something, Mother! Won't take a minute!"

"Come downstairs this instant! The tea's getting cold!"


Harry crouched down in the shade of the house, Hermione next to him. In the dark, cold soil, there were tiny green shoots, barely above ground. They were swaying though there was no breeze so close to the wall, and when he brushed a hand over them, one tried to grab his finger.

"Mother, Cleopatra's sprouting again!" He called.

"How wonderful."

Aside from a tightening grip on his hand, Hermione didn't move a muscle. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye. Admittedly, she had nearly jumped out of her skin the first few times his mother had materialized behind them, but now she was taking it in her stride, more or less. It was admirable.

He just wished Draco and Blaise could be the same. He could hear their screams in the distance, followed by the distinctive sounds of minefields. Ah, Uncle Fester.

"Would you like to take one to school, my little viper? I have read your Hogwarts: A History, and not one cognizant, cut-throat, venomous plant in the whole place. How did you survive the year?"

"It's not so bad, Mother. I haven't gone through all of the Forbidden Forest yet, perhaps there is a species there worthy of some experimentation."

"There's…uh…" The young girl cleared her throat self-consciously as they both looked at her, but pressed on, forcing the words out of her mouth. "There's the Whomping Willow. It's…cognizant."

"That's true." A hint of surprise crept into his voice, and he smiled at her. "You have an excellent memory. She's right, Mother. The Willow is particularly destructive. I shall send you a cutting."

"Still," His mother said softly, her eyes gleaming. "You will take one, and you as well, Hermione. There can never be too many carnivorous plants, as I always say. Now, where is Lurch?"

"We should go." Harry whispered to his companion as his mother started to glide away, muttering to herself. He stood up, smoothing the back of his skirt, then offered her a hand.


"I don't think you're quite ready for toxic fumes just yet."


"Harry, I think this is for you."

Harry turned around. There was a cage in his sister's hand, too small if he was any judge. Whatever creature was stuffed in it must have been in excruciating pain. His sister had always taken pride in that.

There was a hint of pillow case and long ears, one of which looked like it had met the business end of a razor.

"Have you been playing under the bed again?"

"No, Harry." Wednesday snapped the lock in her little fingers and threw it away before shaking the creature loose. "I was just about to when I caught this."

"Hey, that's Dobby." Draco said, as he caught a glimpse of knobby hands and an even knobbier face.

"Darling, when you're holding a bow and arrow, the correct thing to do with it is aim. I'll teach you to do it by instinct later on."

"Right, right."

As his blond friend sighted down the length of the feathered shaft at a bound and gagged Blaise, Harry looked down at the shivering something before him.

"Ha-Harry Potter." It quavered. His sister had that kind of effect on people.

"I see you're from Britain." He sighed. This whole Harry Potter business was getting very tiresome. "My name is Harveste. If you do not use it when speaking to me, I shall give you back to the girl who brought you here."

"N-no! Please don't! Please!"

"I thought house elves were used to pain." Draco muttered, voice muffled by concentration. "They inflict it upon themselves when they think they haven't done what their master wants."

"My sister is…inventive, let's say. As am I."

The creature quailed.


"Do try and concentrate, Draco. We want Blaise in one piece for later."


This was more like it. Shopping for school supplies. Something normal.

The gash on his arm twinged and Blaise gingerly put his hand over it. It wasn't as bad as it was yesterday. Granny Frump, mad old crone though she was, had given him a salve to put on it. It had smelled like moldy shoes, but it was working.

They were turning down Knockturn Alley.

"Uh…Mister Addams?"

The permanently jolly man in the pinstripe suit clapped a hand on his shoulder. Blaise flinched. He hadn't quite gotten over the electric shocker yet. "Yes, my little carbuncle?"

"Um…this is Knockturn Alley."

"Yes!" He exclaimed exuberantly, turning a few cloaked heads. "Lovely place, isn't it? Delightfully dank and deplorable."

"Absolutely filthy." Granny Frump cackled. It seemed to be the only way she could talk. "Reminds me of old London when Jack was around."

"Jack?" Hermione asked.

"Jack the Ripper, old family friend. I take credit for his decline into depravity, you know. Ah, there's the shop. Come along."

The bell dinged, muffled by the dust of ages.


They walked out few minutes later, leaving behind a near-comatose shopkeeper. Harry had a new crystal ball in his hands, and Wednesday had a Hand in hers.

"Call that a Hand of Glory." Gomez was muttering darkly. "Bet he didn't move so much as a few thousand dollars. What kind of thieves are they allowing to roam the streets nowadays? It's a disgrace!"

"Times move on, mon sauvage, the world turns."

"You always know exactly what to say, cara mia, my darling, my one and only bride of death…"

"Oh Gomez."

Blaise kept his horrified eyes straight ahead. Draco was doing the same. Hermione, the wench, was laughing behind her hand, clutching Harveste's shoulder with the other. The Addams parents had been doing that constantly over the past few days, amorously indecent even in front of their children and visitors. It was a wonder they didn't just devour each other.

The incessant smooching continued, only to be interrupted by…

"Harry Potter, I'd know you anywhere!"

Both Pugsley and Hermione grabbed Harveste's hand, which had sprouted senbon. They hadn't had enough time to catch a hold of Wednesday too.

Thunk thunk thunk.

The look in her eyes was purely demonic. "What did you call my brother?"

Cameras stopped in mid-flash and the crowd around Flourish and Blotts parted like the Red Sea, except with less blood. There was a shocked blond man pinned against the wall, a few feet above the ground, blue eyes wide and staring. A metal dart glinted just an inch from his groin.

"Wednesday, darling, that's no way to act in public."

The man whimpered as Morticia drifted forward, her husband still rapturously attached to her lace-covered arm. Her crimson lips turned upwards.

"Hello there. We are the Addams family. I'm sure you've heard of us."


"Mother, I can't decide between the plum and the russet."

"Why don't you ask your friend, my viper?"

Hermione looked appraisingly at the skirts that Harry was holding against himself. Blaise and Draco had bowed out quickly when they had realized that their friend took his cross-dressing tendencies seriously enough to go into a womens' only store. They were probably doing other guy things, like eating at Florean Fortescue's ice cream shop.

"You look pretty in anything, Harry." She offered, privately wishing she had his legs. It was better that she didn't voice that thought though. Knowing the Addams family, they had someone's legs just waiting around for the asking.

"Yes, but which one will hide the bloodstains better?"


They were back in Hogwarts, sitting in the Great Hall for breakfast. There was screaming.

"What is that wonderful sound?"

Draco winced as the screech became even more high-pitched. A week at the Addams household should have made him immune, but Molly Weasley's vocal range was on a whole different register. Wednesday could have learned a thing or two, and that was saying something. That girl could torture for hours.

"That's a Howler," Blaise was saying around his mouthful of scrambled eggs. "Apparently, Weasley was caught flying in his father's enchanted Ford Anglia. Stupid git probably thought he'd make an entrance this year."

"How lovely. I must tell Wednesday."

"Why? Did you want a car?"

"Of course not. I shall tell her about the Howler. She'll have such fun with it. I wonder how many screams it can hold?"

Draco winced again.


"We'll be repotting Mandrakes today! Who can tell me the properties of a Mandrake?"

Blaise watched the answering Ravenclaw. Harry was next to him, a pale finger poking the soft earth.

"You should put on earmuffs." Draco whispered, noticing how Harveste's hand was inching towards the tuft of green that jutted from the pot.

"Should I?"

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to those who hear it." Another Ravenclaw, Marietta Edgecombe, answered from a few feet away. Professor Sprout beamed, completely oblivious to the whispering Slytherins.

"Is it really?"

"Harveste, don't-"

The baby Mandrake blinked in the sudden light, the ugliest dirt-encrusted, misshapen lump that Blaise had ever seen. Still swiveling a bit from the force with which it had been pulled, it opened its toady mouth, ready to wail them all into oblivion.

Emerald eyes gleamed in the sunlight that lanced down into the greenhouse.

The Mandrake closed its mouth quickly, fists jammed over its lips and nose. Its eyes were huge with fright, and despite its efforts, a tiny whimper escaped.

Harry poked it with the end of a senbon. It wriggled, but stayed silent. "Pity. It would have been so entertaining."


It was their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, and it was stupid, in Draco's mind.

"'What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?' What kind of drivel is this?"

Harry was already finished. His paper was face down on the desk, his hands folded primly above it. The Chinese fan was meticulously placed next to his quill.

"It was in Year of the Yeti." He smiled, looking over at his frowning friend. "They're quite good storybooks. Excellent for Pubert."

"Mister Po – Addams," Lockhart hurriedly corrected. "Mister Addams is absolutely right. Everyone has to put a little more elbow grease into reading their books. They're bestsellers!"

"Bullshit." Blaise muttered behind them. "I could write better in my sleep."

Harry chuckled. "Now, now. Let's give him a chance, hmm?"

The teacher, if that was what they were called nowadays, kept talking in front of the class, his head clearly in the clouds. It was like Hogwarts had dredged the depths of the Pool of Morons and come up with a bunch of talking algae.

"We could kill him, you know, and everyone would be better off." Draco whispered softly, his grey eyes like shards of flint as his quill tip dug into the parchment.

"'Greatest achievement', my ass. He's an idiot. It's a pity your sister didn't finish him off in Diagon Alley."

Harry hid his smile behind his fan. "How bloodthirsty you two have become. I'll make an Addams out of you yet."

Their sudden viciousness melted away, replaced by growing horror, and he chuckled again.

"Freshly caught Cornish Pixies!"

"An idiot, what did I say?"

A blue smudge zoomed over them, cackling madly. The whole class erupted into chaos. Lockhart waved his wand and said "Peskipiksi Pesternomi!" in tones he probably assumed were commanding.

It had no effect whatsoever. Ink bottles were smashed, tables overturned and hair was pulled. Draco was pleased to see Lockhart being dragged painfully backwards, his golden curls in the spindly little fingers of no less than five pixies. Shredded books rained down upon everything, reduced to confetti.

"Dear me. What a lovely ruckus."

One pixie made the fatal mistake of getting too close.

A quill tore through the air, followed by the sharp gleam of a razor edge. It fell onto the table, cleanly bisected. The quill had gone straight through its head.

Harry stood up, his fan over his mouth and a cheery look in his eyes.

"Let's have a little fun."


Harry blinked at the sudden flash. His hand shot out, faster than a Seeker's, and dragged a little boy from the shadows he'd been hiding in.

The boy didn't look scared in the slightest. His small hands were clutching a very big camera, the sort that Lurch used for family portraits, except this one didn't try to bite your nose off.

"Colin!" Hermione said with surprise. They had been walking towards another session of Double Potions. The other Gryffindors were behind them, still wary of the Addams name. "What are you doing here? Don't you have class?"

"Free period!" He squeaked happily, as if Harry weren't holding him off the ground by his collar. "I wanted to get a picture of the infamous Harveste Addams! They say you used to be Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived!"

Both Draco and Blaise groaned into their palms, and Hermione placed a warning hand on their tempestuous friend's shoulder. "He's just a first year, Harry. Don't kill him."

"Why should I?" He smiled and placed the boy gently back on the ground, his hand now on the dark hair. "He said it right. I was Harry Potter. Such a good boy."

The boy preened under the attention.

"Gods, this lovefest is just disgusting." Pansy shouldered past them, her bulldog of a face set in a scowl. "What's the hold up?"

"Nothing, Pansy."

The Pasrkinsons did not know the meaning of fear. After a summer of being bolstered by her parents and extended family, Pansy felt that she had all her old courage back, with more to spare. Parkinsons did not cower or bow to anyone. They also had no sense of self-preservation.

"Get out of my way, filthy Mudbloods." She hissed as she stalked past.

The whole corridor gasped. Harry blinked.

"What's wrong?" he asked, seeing Hermione near tears.

"She just said a bad word." Blaise sighed, awkwardly patting the Muggle-born girl on the shoulder. "It's nothing."

"It's not nothing." Hermione hiccupped. "It means…it means…"

"It means 'filthy blood', impure." Draco offered softly, looking at the door Pansy had disappeared into. "All the purebloods know it. It's just…something we grow up with. But she didn't need to call you that, Hermione."

"Is that all?" Harry laughed, high and clear, like a bolt of lightning looking for somewhere to earth itself.

Hermione looked up indignantly, her eyes bright with furious tears. A pair of ice-cold lips brushed over her forehead.

"Sticks and stones, my dear, just sticks and stones." Harry looked into her eyes, and lowered his voice. It was like hearing the devil whisper from a shadow. "And we can do a lot with sticks and stones."

That evening, Pansy Parkinson was knocked unconscious on her way to the dorm rooms.

When she woke up, she was upside-down and underground, two inches from a toxic river that hissed every time blood from one of her many, many wounds dripped into it. The air was thick with poisonous fumes, not quite choking her because there was a hole the size of a quarter on the roof of the earthy cave. There was a shovel strapped to her arm and a note taped to her forehead.

It read: Start digging.


"What do you suppose happened to Pansy?" Draco whispered to the boy beside him.

The girl had been found a week later, on the other side of the Forbidden Forest, her eyes dead and her hair shock-white. Madame Pomfrey had had a hell of a time getting her out of the stupor she so stubbornly remained in. She had screamed at the thought of going back to her parents for some reason, and now she sat by her lonesome, gazing blankly into her vitamin-enriched porridge.

"Harveste happened to her, that's what."

"Your classmate has a talent." The Bloody Baron beside them said. Its sudden appearance would have freaked out other people, but a week in the Addams house sort of deadened that effect. "They would have loved him in the Inquisition."

"How nice of you to say, Baron Alain." Harry smiled, sitting down beside them as he continued. "Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington has invited us to his Deathday party."

"Nicholas the who-and-what now?" Blaise said, not bothering to swallow his mouthful of sausage.

"Darling, you're eating like Pugsley. Are you trying to make me homesick?"

The Addams house also took your manners and laughed at them.

"Nearly Headless Nick." The Slytherin ghost supplied. "You are going, Addams?"

"Certainly we are. Wouldn't miss it for the world."


He, for one, would have loved to miss this. Very, very definitely. This was worse than the House. At least the people there had been alive. Mostly, anyway.

Blaise shuddered as another ghost passed through him. It was as cold as Harveste's touch, like the whole of Antarctica had been condensed into one awful moment.

The whole place was the pits, the freezing air choked with black velvet and moth-eaten drapes. Grey light flickered over all the ghosts and there was a sound that was like a thousand dying cats and Wednesday's torture rack all rolled into one. Over everything there was a putrid, revolting miasma, thick enough to cut into, that would have done Granny Frump proud. It was centered over a table that carried a buffet that looked like it had been unearthed from the Middle Ages.

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" he muttered into a cup of what he hoped was water. "It's dead depressing."

"I would." Harry laughed beside him. He had a plate of nibbles in one hand. They were actually, literally nibbling on the plate. "My whole family would. I think it's a novel idea."

"Harveste, your cheese is crawling away."

"The naughty thing." He skewered it with a fork. It squeaked disturbingly.

"Can we go?" Draco's teeth were chattering. He blew on his hands, but only succeeded in covering them in a light patina of frost. "It's freezing and I want some dinner that won't bite back."

"I don't know what you're talking about. It tastes like home. Wonderful cooking."

"Harveste, these were dug up. From the ground. There's still dirt on them."

"I know. Lovely, isn't it?"


Harry raised his face to the sky, the breeze running through his fringe. In a sky that was gloriously overcast, there were flickers of green and red. The voice of Lee Jordan was in the air.

"And Gryffindor takes the lead!"

He squinted upwards. He could just barely see the shock of white hair that was Draco on his Nimbus 2001.

"He's flying well," Blaise commented.


"Harry, there you are!" Harry turned to see Hermione scrambling over the seats, hitting everyone around her with her bookbag. "Sorry, sorry, sorry…"

She scooted into place beside them, beaming as she hefted up a huge copy of Hogwarts: A History. "I got it."

"Looks like everybody got it. In the face."

"Shut up, Blaise. Listen to this: Slytherin built a hidden chamber in the castle, of which the other founders knew nothing. According to legend, he sealed it, making it so-"

"- that none but his heir could open it and unleash the horrors within." Harry smiled blithely at her, his open umbrella shadowing his face. "What is this about, Hermione?"

"The Chamber of Secrets! Everyone is talking about it! Weren't you at breakfast this morning?"

"Yesterday was the dark of the moon."

"Oh." When they had visited the House, they had noticed that no one got up early after the new moon. They didn't eat breakfast either, but the cauldron in the kitchen had been suspiciously full of something. "Anyway, didn't you hear? Mrs. Norris has been petrified, and someone has been painting on the wall outside the girls' toilet. With blood."

Harry's eyes sparked with interest. "Is that so?"

"Er…it wasn't you, was it, Harry?"

"Certainly not. It would be a waste of good blood."

"Oh no." Blaise stood up suddenly, a horrified look on his face as he stared up into the sky. "Look at Draco!"

Harry and Hermione looked up obediently. Draco executed a loop-the-loop and sped off like the hounds of hell were after him. There was a Bludger close behind. No matter how he tried to evade, it stuck to him like a fly to flypaper, turning as he turned, zooming back whenever he ducked and rolled.

"It's gone rogue!" Hermione exclaimed, leaping up as well. "He'll be killed!"

"So soon? That won't do at all."

"Harry, do something!"

"What would you have me do, darling?"

There was no need for words. The Bludger turned sharply as if heeding a call, whistling through the cold air. It moved faster than a bullet, dropping like a stone and heading straight towards the stands.

Straight towards them.

People dove left and right, desperate to get out of its destructive path. It shrieked through the air like a banshee.

Emerald eyes narrowed just the slightest bit.


"I can't believe you kept that."

They were in the Slytherin boys' dorm, evacuated with the simple use of a smile. Draco was dripping wet, his hair plastered to his face. He had stormed into the showers, still in full Quidditch gear, trying to wash the anger and shock off him. Blaise was looking worriedly between him and Harry, who had the rogue Bludger between his hands. It was quivering.

"Madame Hooch said I could. There's no hope for an enchanted Bludger. Pubert will enjoy having something new to play with."

The Bludger started to shake even more.

"I don't understand how it could have done that." Hermione said, her eyes flicking speedily through page upon page of Quidditch Through the Ages. "The spells on those things are supposed to be pretty strong, unbreakable by anyone in our year."

"Don't worry." Harry smiled, directing the suddenly cruel look towards his trunk. It rattled, like something alive was in it. "I'll deal with it later. The gods always appreciate sacrifices."

They wisely decided not to ask.


The Great Hall had been cleared for the purpose of the Dueling Club. All three of his friends had wondered out loud why he would even want to go, especially if it was being taught by Lockhart, of all people, someone who couldn't even brush his hair without written instruction.

"If you're thinking of someone to sacrifice, I volunteer him." Blaise muttered.

Draco nodded. "Me too."

"Gather round, everyone! Can everybody hear me? Good!"

Hermione said nothing, her eyes on Harveste, unwavering even when Lockhart flew off the stage, courtesy of an incandescent Snape.

"I wonder if he's alright?" The brunette said, smiling at the sight of the crumpled figure.

"Who cares?" Draco and Blaise said together.

"Disarming Charm," Lockhart was saying as he tottered back onto the stage. "Wonderful example, I let you do it, of course, but good example all the same."

"He doesn't know when to stay down, does he?"

"Pathetic cretin."

"Hush, you two." Harry said, and they fell silent.

"Ah, Harry!"

Draco's eyes were mutinous. Blaise just sighed.

The rest of the room was quiet. 'OhmigodsHe'ssuchanidiot!''

Harry stepped forward, his face wreathed in a beatific smile. To a man, every person in the class took one big step back. Snape had an uncharacteristically gleeful look on his face.

"Yes, Professor?"

Lockhart didn't have the sense of a gnat. "We'll pair everybody up, how's that? Let's see, Harry. Let's pair you up with…"


"Finnegan! You come up here next to Harry. Malfoy, let's have you with Longbottom. Zabini- "

Seamus nearly wet himself when that smile was turned on him.

"Relax, darling. I'll be nice."

"Face your partners!" Lockhart crowed happily, oblivious to the dark look the Gryffindors were sending him.

"I wonder if they'll find enough pieces of Finnegan to put in a box." Blaise said, his eyes on the poor soul.

"Shut up, Blaise!" Hermione hissed. "I'm sure the Professors know what they're doing."

"You do? Well, that makes one of us."


Harry inclined his head, still smiling.

Seamus fainted.

"There he goes."

Hermione ducked as a red light zoomed past her head. "That was a dirty trick, Bulstrode!"

The girl smirked at her.

Malfoy had his hands full with Longbottom. It was fortunate that he was a Seeker. From the nervous boy's wand came spell after spell, apparently operating by itself, and he had barely enough time to breathe his own counter. He ducked a Tickling Spell and then -finally- he pointed his wand and said the first thing that came to mind.


There was a bang, and a long, thick, rubbery-looking band snaked through the air. It landed in front of Longbottom and he turned whiter than snow when it hissed menacingly at him.

There was an answering hiss from elsewhere in the room.

Harry turned from his perusal of the body before him, only to meet everyone's shocked eyes. The Black Mamba hissed again, unraveling from its coil and ready to strike.

"Terribly sorry." He smiled. "I thought it was talking to me. Carry on."

"I'll take care of this!" A shining senbon went through the fleshy part of Lockhart's ear. He collapsed with a girlish scream.

"So sorry. It must have slipped."

"Harry," Hermione whispered harshly, not daring to move as the snake danced sinuously on the stage. No one was moving. "The snake."

"What? Oh." He looked at the serpent. It looked like a slice of night, glistening like spilt oil in the brightly lit Hall. "What's wrong with it?"

"Get rid of it. Please."

"But it's so pretty. Hello there, you gorgeous darling." Harry cooed, the rest of his words dissolving into a hiss.


"I can't believe you kept that."

The snake hissed at him from under Harry's collar.

"Draco, you need a little suspension of belief. Addams are all about the unconventional." He rubbed his fingers over the scaly head and it pushed against his touch.

"You're just mad, that's what you are."

"Completely, and thank you for noticing."

"Harry!" Hermione ran up to them, her eyes red. "Harry!"


Hermione Granger was probably the only person in the entire school who could run blindly into Harveste Addams' arms without getting skewered by a hundred needles. Well, not the only person. Harry was pretty certain either Draco or Blaise could do the same if they weren't frightened out of their wits at the mere thought of it. What were friends for, after all?

"What's the matter with you?" he said as kindly as he could.

"Someone got petrified again! Somebody from Hufflepuff and…and Nearly Headless Nick too!"

"Really? Fascinating."

"No, it's not! It means something is really out there, something dangerous!"

"That would be me, darling."


Harry breathed in deeply, the night air like a balm to his soul. It was cloudless tonight, and the stars were like pinpricks in the sky, barely lending their light as he walked silently through the Forbidden Forest. He left no footsteps in the pristine snow.

No matter how entertaining his friends were, or how dear to his heart, there was no replacement for the wildness, the wanton and free behavior that he routinely denied himself. No matter that he wanted, he needed the electrifying feeling of someone's life ending at his hands, he couldn't submit, not in school. Draco, Blaise and Hermione were opening up bit by bit, but it would be a long time until they could accept what he really was. But this, when the moon was dark and the night burgeoning with possibilities, when the wind whispered to him even in the dungeons and brought him out of his bed, this he couldn't deny. He wouldn't be an Addams if he did. The tightness in his chest eased, and he took another deep breath.

The air tasted of magic, of the dark, dark blood magic he knew so intimately. He knew that his Family was reaching out to him tonight, regardless of the space between them. This was what they did when the earth was hidden from the eyes of the moon, and gods roamed the land. They gave themselves to the shadows, heeded the call of the abyss that no one else could hear, and in return, they were…cursed.

The Black Mamba raised her head from his shoulders, serpentine tongue flicking into the air. She hissed at him, the sound so close to home that his heart beat faster.

"Hush now, sweet thing. We're close."

There was a rustle and a clicking like tapdancers over hell.

"Who goes there?"

"Spiders," Harry breathed, excitement like thick blood in his mouth. "Acromantulas."

"Who are you? What do you want?"

Harry purred as he slid behind a tree.

In front of him, in a frost-glazed clearing, there were hundreds upon hundreds of great spiders, the elusive Acromantulas. He had had no idea that there would be such a large group hidden here. He felt like he'd stumbled upon a goldmine, but so much better. It was like walking into a room and finding it filled with poison. It was exhilarating. There was one, bigger than the others, grey with age, clearly blind, one of its great bristly legs on a dead ox. Blood soaked into the snow, calling out to him with its metallic smell.

"Come out. I can smell you. I know who you are." The spider clicked, subdued. The rest of its brood wound into silence, their legs stilling, frozen like statues. "I have not seen an Addams in too long."

"In a hundred and eighty years, I imagine." Harry dropped from the branches into the midst of them all. The spiders moved to give him space.

"It is true. The centaurs have been telling the Forest about you. They say you are dangerous, an aberrant menace to our world."

"They are too kind."

"Why have you come?"

Harry lifted his face. The wind blew over him, whispering words only he could hear.


Pansy was still in shock. She had spoken to no one since that time. Harry smiled down at his pumpkin juice and laced it with a bit of the venom that Aragog had so nicely given him. Right now, flying towards the Addams House courtesy of Uncle Fester's Muerte, was a five year old Acromantula who had expressed its desire to go overseas. Hopefully, it would reach just in time for Wednesday's birthday.

"What's that, Harveste?" Blaise asked curiously.

"Just a little pick-me-up. Long night."

And it had been. He hadn't felt so alive in months. It was still in his blood, dancing like firesparks over tinder.

"Oh." The doors to the Great Hall opened and a troop of wing-strapped sullen dwarves. "Dear Merlin's balls, he…he…I demand that you sacrifice him next!"

Harry smiled around his cup. His friends were getting a little spoiled. It was adorable. "Well, if you 'demand' it. Who are we talking about?"

"That…that…blithering, gutless, stupid, ass-kissing imbecile, that's what!"

"A few minutes with Uncle Fester will do you good, I think." Harry said, his eyes now on the cheerful blond Professor who still hadn't learned his lesson. Well. Addams loved challenges. "He'll teach you to swear in German, and then there'll be no stopping you from cursing the air as blue as you like."

"My friendly, card-carrying cupids!" Lockhart was saying proudly, as if he'd won the Nobel Prize. "They will be roving around the school delivering your Valentines!"

Draco buried his head in his arms. "Make him stop."

"In time, darling."

The first dwarf who attempted to deliver Valentines to a Slytherin was found stuck to the ceiling by its ears. A second dwarf was found with its legs cut off and stuffed into its mouth. The third had been found floating face down in the Lake. They disappeared pretty quickly after that.


"Have you heard? Hagrid was arrested by the Ministry!"

Harry tapped his lips with his quill, focused on a paragraph about the Goblin Revolution of 1740. Right under it was a paragraph about the Goblin Revolution of 1741. The chatter of the Slytherin Common Room flew over his head.

"They say he was the one responsible for opening the Chamber!"

"Bloody three-hundred-word essay." Blaise muttered, glaring at the same book as if he wanted it to spontaneously combust. "Damn Binns."

"All his roosters were killed, drained of blood! He must have been using them to paint the messages with!"

Harry scribbled, checked the book and scribbled again. He was nothing if not meticulous.

"They say Dumbledore is gone too!"

"Good riddance!"

"Fucking shut up!" Draco finally yelled. His quill snapped in two. "I want to graduate sometime this century, godsdammit, and if you don't shut up this minute, I'll kill you myself!"

"Calm down, darling." Harry said out of the corner of his mouth, eyes still on the book. "Think happy thoughts."

Blaise strangled a laugh. "You're one to talk."

"I always think happy thoughts, my dear."

There was silence for a while, and then the painting banged open.


"Granger's been petrified!"

Then there really was silence, the sort found only in other people's graveyards. No one dared move, breathe or look anywhere other than where their eyes had landed once those words had been said. There was the scrape of a chair, and then the sound of footsteps fading away.


Harry gazed into the crystal ball, humming a quiet tune. Beside him, Cleopatra II swayed though there were no air currents down in the dungeons. He felt calm, like he had the night he had danced under the starlight in the company of spiders.

The images on the opaque surface swirled and dipped, faster and faster until they began to run into each other, showing him everything he needed to know.

He looked over at his open trunk. Shrunken elf's head aside, it contained only weapons. His books and other school supplies were stacked neatly on his bedside table. Senbon glinted at him from beside pearl-handled daggers, a gilded double-headed throwing axe and his knives. They were still in their plastic casings. He hadn't had much cause to use them this year.

Perhaps he wouldn't use them tonight either. Addams magic would be enough. He needed the practice.

He smiled into the shadows. They shrank away before him.


"There you are, Mister Lockhart. You shall be useful after all."

The Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor barely had time to scream before he was engulfed in soul-eating blackness.


There was the steady drip drip drip of water as he walked along the moss-covered corridor. There were great pillars everywhere, reaching high to a ceiling that was lost in the darkness, creating the illusion of a destitute tomb. The air was heavy, as if no breeze had ever stirred it. It smelled like mold, old bones and snake. It was an excellent place to go for relaxation.

"Wh-where are you taking me?" Lockhart quavered as he was dragged along on the ground. His arm had been broken in two different places, but he couldn't feel it for the fear that was pounding away at his ribcage, threatening to suffocate him.

"Hush now, or I shall have to use you before time. You don't want that, do you?"

"You-you'll get in trouble for this! I'm a published author! I'm your Professor!"

"I am an Addams, sir." Emerald gleamed at him for just a second, but it was enough to shut him up. "We never get into trouble."

There were snakes carved onto every surface, reminding him of the mamba he had left in his room. Then there was a stone face rising out of the gloom. It looked a little like a monkey and a lot like Lurch's mother.

There was a girl, lying half in and half out of a puddle, her hair a distinctive Weasley red. There was also a book, and a ghost of a boy standing next to it, a vague shape that was getting clearer and clearer with every second.

"Harry Potter."

Harry sighed, the mood completely ruined for him. What did he have to do to get rid of that damn name?

"Voldemort, I assume?"

"Voldemort?" A strangled voice squeaked beside him. Pathetic.

"Yes. How do you know who I am?"

"I saw your older self last year. I've been reading up on you, Tom Marvolo Riddle, son of Tom Riddle, son of Thomas and Mary Riddle. You're a half-blood. A mudblood, as they say. I wonder if your followers know?"


"You are quite the fool, you know. Power is not in the blood. It's in what you do with it." Harry smiled grimly, a ghastly crescent in the flickering candlelight. "And you, sad little snake, have no idea what to do with it."

"You dare call me a fool? Me, the greatest wizard since Salazar Slytherin?"

"Do not flaunt your name before me, Tom."

"Then die!" The creature, whatever it was, screamed, its eyes wild with fury. "Die!"

The stone mouth of the statue grated open, but Harry's eyes were on Lockhart. He smiled, and he made it creepy on purpose. "Time for your usefulness, Professor."

The blonde tried to scrabble away, but all he saw was teeth and strong arms and then pain. So much pain that he screamed until his throat was raw, but it wouldn't stop. It felt like his neck was on fire, like his skin was bubbling and frothing and peeling away.

Harry shut his eyes, glorifying in the rush of power that flowed through him, warming him, embracing him. He had no fangs, not like the Addams of old, but this was enough. This was more than enough. This was so good. Blood magic. The best thing that ever happened to him.

There was a slither just on the edge of hearing, but with enough power, enough blood, he could hear a mouse's heartbeat from a hundred yards away. There was no time to eat anything else, but that was fine. He jumped back, flinging the husk of a body away to face the basilisk. His eyes glittered with unholy fire and his mouth was a macabre stain against his deathly pale skin.

The snake struck, and he was no longer there.

He moaned in delight, relishing the chance to fight and rip and maim, and the blood answered his call like a siren from the sea. Above, he knew the moon was shining, but no matter what shone, be it the moon, the sun or the stars, there would always be darkness. He reached behind the light and pulled.

There was another hiss, another strike, and he darted away, a laugh on his crimson lips.

"Stand still when I try to kill you!"

A small petulant cry from a small petulant man.

The Addams power rocketed into him with the force of a meteor, and he threw out his hand, aiming straight for the basilisk's eyes. They burst open with a gash of flame, more blood spurting everywhere.

"Fool! Its death throes will kill the girl, and your heroism will be for nothing!"

"I don't care for her. Ronald has five more siblings." He threw his hand out again, slicing open a wound from head to tail, and still the great snake thrashed. "A worthy opponent. You, on the other hand…"

The ghost whirled around, and its translucent eyes met shining emerald. Harry held the book in his hand.

"Sic Gorgiamus Allos Subjectatos Nunc," he whispered, the motto slipping from his mouth as easily as the first day he'd said them. "I suppose it's too much to hope that you'll remember such a long sentence, but do try, Tom."


Harry stabbed a dagger into a Mandrake with vicious accuracy. He was still a bit jittery from all the blood he had ingested, seeing as he hadn't done it for a year, then suddenly had a whole Lockhart. He should probably remedy that next year. Perhaps his friends would consent to a little nibble now and again.

"Er…Mister Addams?"

The whole class was wearing earmuffs, and it was just as well. The dying Mandrake was writhing in pain, a long, seemingly endless scream pouring from its mouth. He gave the dagger another twist and it fell silent. Professor Sprout was blinking rapidly at him.

"Er…that isn't exactly the most humane way to prepare Mandrakes for the Restoration Draught, but ten points for enthusiasm all the same."

"Thank you, Professor." He tugged the blade free and, once the Professor had walked back to the front of the class, put the sharp edge against his tongue. The taste was strong and bitter. It helped clear the haze a bit.

"Gods, Harveste, be even creepier than usual, why don't you?" Draco sighed, pinching his nose at the gruesome sight.

"If I was, then you wouldn't be friends with me."

"Hey, where do you think Lockhart's gone?" Blaise asked, ignoring the fact that his friend was lapping up the last traces of Mandrake juice.

"Who cares? Just as long as he's gone and he doesn't bother us with his idiocy anymore."

Harry smiled.



Hermione hit him in the chest with a force that would have felled a lesser man. He patted her back as she hugged him with an anaconda's embrace. "Hello to you too."

Draco and Blaise got the same treatment. They both squeaked in a very unmanly way.

On the way back to the Slytherin common room, Hermione sidled beside him. "Harry, I-I know what you did for me."

He raised an eyebrow. "Do you now?"

She blushed under his scrutiny. "Y-yes. When I was Petrified, I think… I think I became a ghost for a moment. And I saw you, in the Chamber. And… And Voldemort. And Lockhart."

The other two, who had been walking before them, stopped and looked back. "What's the hold up?" Draco asked irritably.

Harry continued to smile at Hermione and the words tumbled from her mouth much like the basilisk's venom had from its razor-sharp fangs. "I-I want you to know, I understand. I understand, Harry."

His fingers tangled in her hair for a moment. "Would that mean that you are open to visiting my house again this summer?"

The shadows in her eyes fled at the tone of his voice. "I would love to." Then her face fell. "Oh no."

"What is it?"

"The African Strangler your mother gave me. I think I killed it."

"Have you really? That is a surprise."

"She'll hate me," Hermione groaned in anguish.

"I think not. No one but Lurch has managed to kill one of Cleopatra's offspring. Mother might just throw a party for you. Draco, Blaise, you are invited, of course."

"Not again…"




Done in eight hours! I'm so proud of me! I'm getting faster and faster, and it's all your fault, my dear reviewers! I would just like to say that this does not mean that it will be a Harveste/Hermione situation. Anyone who knows me knows I prefer slash. It's just that girls mature faster than boys, and I myself get all clingy like that. Anyway! Thank you for supporting Harveste Addams, and I hope you like it!

And to answer teenwitch18, whose review I've just read, putting it in a multi-chapter fic would just mess with me and I wouldn't get any sleep. I swear, last night, I didn't want to go to sleep. I was lying there, wishing for another cigarette. I know it's more difficult but, ah, what can I do, it just seems like I'm just as mad as our dear Harveste.