Chapter One

The Birth of Hathor Addams

I own nothing. Not Hathor, not the Addams, nothing.

-X-X-

-O-

Anyone could tell just by looking that the street called Private Drive that it was quiet. That not a thing was out of place. Every car was parked in the appropriate place, and all lights where off in all houses. Everyone was, one would assume, sleeping. However in the house marked with four it was not so. A lone boy, no older than five lay quiet in his cupboard.

He was shaking as he looked at the knife he was holding. If anyone where to truly look at him now they would see and almost evil smile upon his lips, his green eyes alight with a flame of insanity. Tonight was the night he was going to kill them. The so called "family" that had abused him, and made him work like a slave was going pay. In blood. Forget that he was bloodied, and bruised himself. That it hurt to move. He would kill them. They'd left his cupboard unlocked after all. Just begging for it in his opinion. He just had to be patient to wait until 'Dudders' came down for a snack.

His smile fell as he heard the tell-tail squeak of the stairs. He crouched at the ready, he could by the sound that it was the third stair from the top that squeaked. It was his cousin, he could also tell that by the sound. He waited until he heard his cousin pass his small space and quietly snuck out. Following the boy in the shadows he blended in perfectly. A small smile graced his lips as watched his cousin open the fridge and stuff his face. He the knife behind his back.

"Dudley?" He asked in a sickly sweet voice, rubbing his eyes as he appeared to be tired. He watched as his cousin turned around holding a gallon of double chocolate ice-cream.

"Harry?" His cousin whispered. "What the bloody hell are you doing up you freak?" He asked stepping closer.

Harry looked up at his cousin as he stood in front of him. He looked down at the ground like he always did. "Aunt Petunia forgot lock me in." He said softly. "I was going to ask you to do it." He looked up at his cousin. "So I don't get in trouble again." He watched as his cousin smiled.

"No way freak." He said pushing Harry's' shoulder. "I'm going-" His eyes opened wide.

Harry smiled as he grabbed his cousins wrist and pulled the knife from behind him. Before his fat pig of a cousin could make a sound slit his throat. He watched with a blank face as his cousin bled out on the kitchen floor the ice-cream he had moments before now at his side beginning to melt on the floor. He crouched silently as his cousin reached out to him trying to stop the blood.

He'd made sure to cut deep enough to where Dudley wouldn't be able to scream. He finally smiled when Dudley drew his last, gurgling, breath. He placed a hand in the pool of blood that had gathered and brought it to his lips, licking the end of one finger. "Poor little Duddikens, killed by his glutinous ways." He stood and sighed. "Shouldn't have come down for ice-cream." He giggled softly as wiped the blood from the knife on his hand-me-down pants leg. He heard footsteps and turned looking for where they came from. He shook his head thinking he'd saw a pinstriped figure disappear. "Impossible." He said softly shrugging it off.

He turned from the kitchen and smiled as he noticed bloody footprints followed him, staining his aunts precious white carpeting. He began to hum softly as he carefully made his way up the stairs. He then walked to his aunts and uncles room slowly turning the knob, and opening the door. They still slept. But the question was how to kill them both with out alerting the noisy neighbors? He quirked a brow as he walked to their bathroom, and opened the cupboard under the sink. Oh yes. He knew they kept it in here. Away from him. He reached out and grabbed a bottle of powdered rat poison. "Perfect." He said quietly under his breath. He grabbed a glass cup that Vernon kept in the bathroom, and filled it with water. He then placed a large amount of rat poison in it and watched as it dissolved.

He tucked his knife in the back of his pants and walked to his aunts side of the bed. Rat poison in hand. He dipped a finger in and held it over her mouth, watching as a few drops went in. A little at a time, and he was sure she wouldn't notice. He looked at the clock and smiled as he repeated the action.

He wanted to time how long this took. He repeated dipping his finger and dropping the poisoned water in his aunts mouth, watching as her breathing slowed then stopped completely. He looked back over to the clock. Only took thirty minutes, not bad for the method he'd used. All that was left was dear old uncle Vernon.

The man he knew was too big to risk waking. He might get hurt himself, and that was no good. However, he might be able to slit his throat like he did his cousin, but would he be able to cut through the layers of fat? His small brow furrowed in thought, flinching as his uncle rolled over in his sleep. He would have to risk it.

Walking over to the other side of the bed he drew in a deep breath and took the knife from it resting place. This next moments would be whether he would be able to be free, or die. Either way at this he didn't really care. It was a risk both ways. Raising his knife he waited until his Uncle rolled over once more and brought the knife down across his neck.

He jumped back and dropped his knife when his uncle sat up faster than he'd ever seen the man move. His eyes, like his sons, where wide with fear. He watched, his face impassive, as his uncles eyes locked with his. He couldn't help but smile when the whale of a man fell from the bed, slowly bleeding out. His hand trying to staunch the wound. "What was that? You wanted me to kill you for ages? Should have said so sooner." He said softly as he turned and walked out of the room.

He resumed his humming as he walked down the hall, this was by far going to be his best birthday yet. He turned to the clock in the hall and smiled as it chimed midnight. "Happy Birthday Harry." He said to himself as he sat at the top of the stairs his hands and feet covered in blood. His stomach growled. "Figures. Killing makes a boy hungry." He said standing and making his way to the kitchen. He picked up the melting ice-cream bucket from the floor and sat beside his cousins body, picking up the nearby spoon covered in blood.

"You know what Dudley?" He said taking a bit. "I never understood why you loved this crap." He sighed taking another bite, a smile of malice appearing on his face. "But when mixed with blood it's not so bad." He sighed a few minutes later when he'd eaten his fill. There was nothing left to do but go to bed, and that exactly what he did.

The next morning when he woke he was shocked that the authorities didn't show up yet. He already had the perfect act, and had already cleaned the knife he'd used. So he spent the next two days watching the telly, and eating what packaged food he could find. He didn't want to cook seeing as that would look a little suspicious. He knew though that if the authorities didn't come soon he'd have to call himself. The house was starting to stink up a bit.

He sighed deeply as he turned off the telly. His body tensed as the sound of tires reached his ears. Running to the nearest window he smiled. The police had finally arrived. He ran as quickly as he could to his cupboard to wait for them to find him. He shut it as he heard a nock on the door. He pulled his legs to his chest as he sat on the floor.

"Jesus Christ." He heard a male voice say. "It stinks in here."

"Yeah. Better call in the team."

"Why."

"There's blood coming from the kitchen."

"Shit. On it."

Harry waited for what seemed to be hours. The sounds of feet moving in and out of the house was getting on his nerves. His body tensed as he watched a shadow under his cupboard stop. He quickly began to will himself to cry. He closed his eyes resting his head on his knees.

"Hey." He heard a female voice whisper. "Listen." The female said as another shadow stopped beneath his door.

"It sound like someone's crying."

"Do you think it could be other boy?"

"One way to find out."

He screamed softly as he pushed himself further back against the wall as light flooded his dark hiding place. It wasn't so much as he was acting right now. He just hated the sun. His eyes however where wide and brimmed with tears, his clothing covered in the blood of his family. He watched as a man and woman looked at him in slight shock. He was sure he was still covered in bruises, and cuts from his beloved uncles punishments. That combined with the others blood, and his acting skills, he knew was a sight behold.

"Hello there." A soft feminine voice said softly. "My name is Sarah. I'm with the crime lab."

Harry finally allowed his tears to fall freely down his face as his started to hyperventilate. This. This was acting. "S-stay away." His voice was shaky as he stood slowly his eyes locked on the man. He watched Sarah follow his eyes.

"We're not going to hurt you." Sarah said softly, pushing the man away from the cupboard. "Are you Harry?"

He nodded as he watched her hand reach for him. "We're not going to hurt you." He heard her say again. He reached out and grabbed her hand, allowing her to pull him out. He hugged her and cried into her stomach as he was led outside. He kept crying even when his wounds where being treated. A small smile broke across his lips once a was sitting alone, his back to a near by crowd. He was currently looking at the ground, bangs hiding his face from the world. However, when a pair of black shiny shoes appeared he looked up slightly. A man smoking a cigar was standing before him. His mouth was agape, for the man was also wearing a pinstriped suit.

"Brava." The man said with a smile. "A killing spree worthy of an Addams." Harry looked blankly at the man. He knew there was someone else there a few nights ago. He watched as the man knelt. "Killing two with a knife, the other with poison at such a young age, and then having the police clean it up. Wonderful. A work of art young man."

"Who are you?" Harry said softly as he looked at the man in disbelief. The man had complemented him on how he'd killed his family. Someone had finally given him a complement.

"Gomez. Gomez Addams young man, and you are?"

Harry smiled. He liked this man. He seemed… Unstable. "Harry. I've no last name." He said smiling brightly at the man.

"Well then the way I see it you have two option. Go with these people to and orphanage, or come with me. I assure you the orphanages' here in Britain are dreadful." He watched Gomez's' face take on a dreamy look. "Sub-par food, beatings, whipping, and all that such." Gomez sighed. "What a dream. Or come with me to live with my family. We can teach everything you'll need to know to kill in this world. It's a family profession."

Harry stood. "Will I be allowed to do that again any time soon?" He said nodding to the house as the police brought a body.

"My good man I would be offended if you didn't. A sacrifice to the gods is a good thing. Come." Gomez said in a happy chipper mood, and follow Harry did.

Two years later

Hathor smiled as he walked about the manor. Two years ago Gomez had brought him from England to America, and had made him part of the Addams family. At first he was hesitant, as Wednesday and Pugsley had tired to kill him on multiple occasions. After learning that was the norm in this house hold from Morticia she had handed him a knife and told him "go play". He'd quickly learned to stay on his toes, and always, always, carry a sharp pointy object with you.

Needless to say it didn't take him long to adapt. Grandmamma had told him it was a good thing for serial killers to have. The ability to adapt that is. His once tan skin from hours in the sun had now grown a lighter color. He wasn't quite pale, but he wasn't tan. He was somewhere in between. Gomez had gotten rid of his glasses ages ago, claiming that if he lost then in a battle he would be dead. Not that there was anything wrong with the glasses. His raven color hair had become less unruly thanks to Morticia, and the effort she put into his hair potions. His style of dress was like the rest of the family. Dark colors. Blacks, grays, and a little bit of coal. However, he never really like the way his concealed weapons fit into his trousers.

Hathor stopped in front of a door. It was his mother and fathers room. He'd always wondered what it looked like. He slowly opened the door and went in, leaving the door open for a quick escape. It was dark, but just like the night he killed his family he could still see. One thing though caught his eye. There by the bed was a large vanity with a mirror. A small smile adorned his face as he walked over to it and sat on the stool. He licked his lips as he looked at himself in the mirror.

He was small. In his two years of being here he hadn't grown much. He was even smaller that Wednesday, and she was a year younger than him. Not to mention that at the school he was forced to attend he was teased because he looked like girl. He'd always smiled at the bullies and told them to come up with better taunts. His little sister could do better.

But now as he sat on his mothers stool he could see that the boys in his class where indeed correct. His facial structure made him look feminine, but his eyes are what did it. They where big, and a dark green that seemed to glow in the dark. Frowning slightly he looked down to the various lipsticks and other make-up his mother had set out. He reached for a black tub and took off the cap. He look in the mirror then to the tub, and with only a moments hesitation he applied the dark blood red lipstick. He couldn't help but look at himself. It went fairly well with his skin tone he noticed.

"Hathor? What are you doing la petite?"

Hathor turned to look at his mother and blushed at being caught. As she began to walk over to him he quickly wiped off the lipstick. "Nothing Maman." He said quietly as he stood. He was stopped though by hands on his shoulder. He looked up to see his mothers kind smile.

"My Little Hathor." She said with a little smirk. "That was truly your shade you know."

"You're not mad?" He asked looking up at her.

"No. Not ever. Besides if you feel comfortable in make-up by all means wear it." He paused as she pulled another stool next to the one he was sitting on. Around his mother it seemed as though things just appeared out of thin air. "Would you like to learn how?" She said gesturing to the make-up. At his nod she smiled and began to teach him.

That was how Gomez found them later that day. Sitting in front of Morticias mirror applying make-up . "Tish, cara mia, what are you doing to our son?" He asked as he walk into the room.

"Why nothing my love." She said applying eyes shadow to her youngest son. "Just teaching Hathor about make-up." She said looking over her sons head at her husband a certain look in her eyes.

Gomez smiled. "Ah a shopping trip then? How dreadful."

"Indeed. A deathly makeover is in need." She said standing and gesturing for Hathor to do the same. "Tomorrow we'll get you your own makeup, and I'll have a dress prepared for you. It'll be absolutely horrid. What color?"

Hathor stood his acid green lips pulling into a smile. "Black, of course mother." He stood and walked to the door. "Oh and whatever this color." He said pointing to his lips. "It looks like poison." He said walking out of the room and down the hall. "See you tomorrow mother." He called from down the hall.

"Gomez. I'm glad our Little Killer fits into the family." Morticia said softly as she walked over to Gomez. "He-oops. I mean she is truly something. Pugsley had been dumping poison after poison in her tea. She doesn't taste it anymore. A true Addams."

"Yes I agree completely Tish. You should have seen the way he killed them. Art in it's truest form. He's not a muggle though is he?" Gomez asked as he took his wife's hand in his.

"No. Not at all. I have a feeling in a few years he'll be on a train to Hogwarts. I only hope he gets expelled quickly. Like Pugsley from Salem."

Good? Not Good? I got the idea from a friend of mine, and I hope I'm doing it justice.