Author's Note:

Wow! In less than a day, I had a rather glowing level of approval from the various readers out there that decided to look at my inaugural work here on Fanfiction .net.

Truly, I feel humbled that anyone was willing to give this a look, and it's spurring me on to go ahead and give you good folks another chapter just a day after the first.

To answer a few questions, yes, I do plan on updating regularly. After today, I will do my best to post every Friday, to kick off everyone's weekend with a bit of darkness, macabre humor, and even a death or two!

This will certainly not be a fic that shies away from the human condition, nor will it be a necessarily happy one. To answer another question, McGonagall's memories will eventually return, but I had to try and explain away why she turned a blind eye towards the horrid things that would have happened to Harry. As an educator, and a woman tasked with caring for children, it always bothered me that she never really questioned Dumble's more idiotic schemes.

Harry will, by dint of being raised by the Addamses, be more intelligent than he would have been if he'd been forced to dumb himself down by the Dursleys. And have no fear, I have plans for them as well. Muwahahahaha.

Disclaimer: It should be readily apparent that this is a fan work, and that I in no way, shape, nor form own, nor hold any rights, to either the work of J.K. Rowling, nor the original works of Chas Adams, or whomever currently holds the rights to his works.

Enough. With no further ado…

Shad Nemo Freud Proudly Presents Sic Allos Subjectatos Nunc

a Crossover between the worlds of Harry Potter, and the Addams Family (snap snap)

Chapter Two: The Serpent's First Slithering

Harry: Age 2

Morticia smiled as Wednesday toddled after her cousin with a chef's knife from the kitchen. It was always wonderful to see the two at play, and she looked forward to the day that the wretched little parasite currently using her intestinal tract as a treadmill would be born and come to wreak havoc upon his older sister. She rubbed her distended belly as she watched Harry fall on his face, inadvertently dodging the twelve-inch blade as it whistled through the air where his neck had been, and the little Potter scampered away on his hands and knees giggling like an imp. Wednesday's eyes betrayed her annoyance while her face remained passive, and she began toddling after the wild-haired boy again as they played their own version of tag. The rules were simple: don't get hit.

Morticia's crimson lips curled upward as she smelled the vile concoctions grandmama was brewing in the kitchen (which made her morning sickness flare up terribly) as the old crone cackled while her dear Gomez read aloud the obituaries. Apparently, there had been a fire at the old nursing home some miles down the road, and the average age of the bone page, as grandmama called it, had gone up noticeably. If it weren't for the fact that dear Uncle Fester had been missing since his ill-fated graduation trip to study voodoo in the Caribbean, she would have sworn her dear brother-in-law was behind it.

She sighed, trying not to think of "could have beens" as she felt the newest member of the family tug at the hem of her dress. She looked down, and saw little Harry staring up at her, a sweet smile on his face as he held up a small adder that had somehow made its way into the house from the ophidiarium. Normally, such a morsel would likely have ended up in the witches' brew they referred to as Grandmama's Goulash, but this little one seemed to have taken a shine to their tiny cousin, for it nuzzled up against Harry's cheek as he reached up to Morticia to be held. She smiled at the little monster as she picked him up, unknowingly stymying the crude Rube Goldberg device Wednesday had assembled, a crossbow bolt hurtling past where Harry's kidneys would have been if he hadn't been picked up, and narrowly missing Thing as he dropped flat to the floor to avoid the lethal projectile.

Despite missing again, Wednesday was determined. She was clearly a brilliant child, already killing at an eight-year-old level, but the intruder in their home seemed blessed by Entropy itself, impossibly protecting him by chance. She pouted this time, and toddled off to go see if Ichabod, the family's ill-tempered Whomping Willow wanted to play.

Harry giggled as he stroked his pet snake while he sat on Morticia's lap, the tiny black snake's tongue tickling Harry's hand. Morticia's long fingers gently stroked the boy's wild hair, and he leaned upward into her hand, babbling happily as he cuddled his little snake. Morticia's smile faltered, however, when she heard the little adder begin hissing at Harry, and a confused frown fell upon the tot's chubby face before he hissed back, surprising both Morticia and the snake. All sounds in the house came to a stop, save for the bubbling in the cauldron, as Gomez and Grandmama poked their heads out of the kitchen.

"Tish…did…did Harry just say his first words?" Gomez asked as he lit up a fresh cigar. The proud smile on Morticia's face answered him as a single tear slid down her face. The boy was an Addams for sure! After all, very few magical families in Europe had the potential to speak parseltongue, but the entire Addams clan had the ability, along with an incredible resistance to toxins.

Morticia's smile as she held the little boy close was abnormally dark. The little man in her lap had called her his auntie.

(snap snap)

Harry: Age 2.5

Hermione Granger's parents were terrified of their odd child. At first, they'd been incredibly proud of their little girl, who had mastered crawling at only a few months old. At six months, she could talk. At two, she'd already started reading picture books. But this, this most recent episode of oddness in their lives? It took the cake. Their three-year-old had apparently decided that overachieving wasn't good enough, and had learned how to break the laws of physics, giggling loudly as she reached for the brightly colored blocks that now floated over her head, moving them without touching them to read "Hello Mummy and Daddy!"

Daniel and Beatrice Granger had both looked for wires, fishing line, anything that would explain the floating blocks. It had almost been…magic…and both were, justifiably, frightened. The pair were dental surgeons, for Christ's sake! They lived in a world of science, of the material, not the fantastic! "She gets it from your side of the family," Dan said as he held a beaker of tea in his shaking hands, trying to calm his nerves as he debated adding something stronger to his drink, "after all, your uncle Phillip was a stage magician."

"Illusionist! It was all smoke and mirrors!" Beatrice sniped back, deciding to skip the pretense and simply pour herself three fingers of scotch, neat. "I could probably do most of his tricks myself! But this? You can't be serious, Dan. There's no way it's possible!" There was a knock at the door, and they stared at the portal to the outside world in abject terror. Perhaps one of their nosier neighbors had heard the commotion, and looked in the window? Maybe it was men in black vans, come to take their family away because their sweet Hermione Jean had been swapped at birth with some form of changeling, and the government was here to cover it up? Daniel grabbed a five iron out of his golf bag and hid it behind his back as he went to answer the door. He looked out the peephole and saw an elderly man in an odd tweed suit. Odd, because it was a particularly bright shade of violet, rather than the more common colors, such as anything not violet. He cautiously opened the door, and the wintry bearded man smiled kindly at the beleaguered dentist.

"Good morning. Daniel Granger, correct? May I come inside? It concerns your daughter. Oh, and you shan't be needing the five iron. Really, a seven would have been more appropriate if I were here to harm you." The old man's half-moon glasses glinted in the morning light, but for just a moment, he could have sworn the old man's eyes were twinkling. He shook his head, then undid the security chain, and allowed the old man entry. "I do apologize for coming by so early, but as you're both, ah, non-magical , I felt it prudent to come and explain a few things."

Daniel's eyes settled into a half-lidded stare of incredulity. "Magic. Right. Like my daughter could possibly be, what, some kind of wizard?"

"Witch, actually. But that's a matter of semantics, really. Also, where are my manners? I sometimes forget that people in the non-magical world have no idea whom I am. My name is Albus Dumbledore, and I am the Headmaster of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. I happened to be in the area because, I must confess, I have a bit of a sweet tooth for the candies your people tend to make. None of the chocolatiers in Hogsmeade of Diagon Alley seem to even know what they are."

Daniel paused. "Diagon…you mean to say you have a magical…city, I suppose would be the proper term, and one of the streets is named diagonally? I suppose you've got a Dirun Alley too, then?"

"Knockturn Alley, actually. Diurn Alley is in the States." Dumbledore said, chuckling. "I know, some of the wizards in charge of naming things have a terrible habit of using puns for things. As far as your daughter is concerned, the fact that she is exhibiting accidental magic at her age. Stupendous!"

Daniel looked at his wife, and back at Dumbledore. "So, this is normal then?"

Dumbledore nodded, "Among magical children, this sort of thing isn't unheard of, although most children don't exhibit accidental magic until they're at least five. She will be a worthy addition to the school when she turns…ah, my apologies, but her birthday is on September nineteenth, correct?"

Emma nodded, looking at Dumbledore slightly askance. "Why? Does it matter?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Most first years come to Hogwarts at the age of eleven, when their…the term we tend to use is 'magical core', or the source of their magic. It tends to stabilize enough for children to start learning how to cast spells around their eleventh birthday. Unfortunately, since your daughter's birthday is after the first day of classes, she will have to wait a year to attend."

Daniel looked at Emma. "So…they have a special school just for magic users? What's the curriculum like?"

Dumbledore smiled. He'd set the hook, and now it was simply time to reel the child into his clutches when she came of age. Molded properly, and guided down the right path, she would prove a perfect tool to help him get the Boy-Who-Lived under his thumb and keep him there. Now, all he had to do was make sure he would have proper access to the child.

Time to charm the parents.

(snap snap)

Harry: Age eight

Ronald Weasley glared at the tiny bed that held his equally tiny little sister. Seven generations of Weasleys, and the slight, slip of a waif was the first girl in the family. He fought the urge to snarl, an odd impulse in one so young, as he went to the room he shared with his older brother, Percy. The twins, little hellions that they were, had already started to show their latent prankster edge. Charlie spent most of his time studying animal husbandry and dragon lore, seeking to know more about the big lizards he was so damned obsessed over. Bill's door stayed closed most of the time now, and he never had time for his youngest brother, not even when he had the weekend off from hi new job at Gringotts. But Ginny, that little swot, had his eldest brother wrapped around her finger.

Ron couldn't possibly have known this, but the fertility experiments that the Weasley Matriarch had subjected herself to had borne fruit in all her children. In the oldest, an almost instinctual skill with runes, arithmancy, and enchanting: his destiny as a crack curse breaker at Gringotts was all but assured. Charlie had an unnatural affinity for dragons, and all other reptiles for that matter. Percy, a genius when it came to loopholes, politicking, and acquiring influence and power. The twins? The less said about their future the better, but one could almost see the sign now where Weasleys Wizarding Wheezes would someday replace the Zonko's Joke shop in Diagon Alley.

Ron, on the other hand? His fate was unbound. He was highly intelligent, sure, and an expert tactician…but, where strength and virility came easily to his other brothers, he was a bit weak, almost sickly. Which was why the boy was glaring at his precious baby sister, the final product of Molly Weasley's experimentation in wizarding eugenics. Ron fought the urge to grab a pillow and smother his six-year-old sister in her bed, fought the urge to choke the life out of the little moppet. Because, he was sure, he was expendable. The sixth son. He'd been slipping into the other boy's rooms and had begun reading their books. At four, he'd already understood complex subjects, at six had almost figured out several advanced wand techniques, and at eight could easily beat any of his relatives at Wizarding Chess. He was a child prodigy. And yet, his little sister got all the attention. He left his sister's room in a huff, and went outside, his parents having long gone to bed.

He was considering picking the locks on the broom shed when he heard a quiet pop and looked to see an old wizard at the very edge of the wards. An old wizard he'd seen in Bill's book Hogwarts, a History. The old man approached the wards carefully, and pulled out a small, odd little device that he used for some unknown purpose. He then looked up, and smiled as his eyes met Ron's

"Ronald Weasley, correct?"

Ron was well past the point of falling victim to stranger danger already but failed to understand just why the old wizard was at the Burrow in the dead of the night. He kept his distance but nodded. "Yeth thir." He lisped and cursed the loss of his front teeth due to George tirpping him down the stairs for some perceived slight. His mother had placed a couple sickles under his pillow and taken the teeth and promised to take the boy to get candy the next time the family went to the Alley. Percy was holding onto them for safe keeping, and thus far, the twins hadn't tried to steal them yet. Dumbledore smiled pleasantly and surreptitiously scanned the tiny redhead before him. The boy was well fed, but underweight, and would likely never grow to his full potential. But, had a brilliant mind, if a little on the twisted side.

Dumbledore pondered just how he was going to use the boy to achieve his goals. If he helped the boy now, it would draw unnecessary attention from Molly, and possibly strain his relationship with the family he'd planned to use as cannon fodder when the war came back to rear its ugly head. He shrugged internally. He had some years to crack that chestnut yet, and simply looked at the boy. "You are going to be a powerful wizard someday, Mr. Weasley. I make it a point of getting to know the best and brightest before they come to Hogwarts. Tell me, young man, which house do you hope to get into?"

Ronald eyed the old man critically. This had to be some kind of trick. Luckily, the Burrow's wards had been put together by his late uncles and were immensely powerful. What the family lacked in wealth, they more than made up for in resourcefulness. Even Dumbledore wouldn't chance being a target for the more horrific wards on the Weasley estate, such as it was. "I wath thinking of Thlytherin. Houthe of the ambi, ambith-,"

"Ambitious?" Dumbledore asked helpfully.

"That one." Ron said, still eyeballing the Headmaster of his future school.

Dumbledore nodded. He'd need to convince the boy that Gryffindor was a better house, but that could wait. "Well see when the time comes, young mister Weasley. I'm afraid I must go now, but we'll talk again the next time I come by." He cast the tempus spell and saw the time. He nodded at the young wizard, and apparated away. Ron stared at the spot the Headmaster had been and shrugged. It was past his bedtime anyways.

(snap snap)

Several hundred miles away, Dumbledore appeared outside of St. Mungos, pulled out a strange, shimmery cloak from his pocket, and slipped it on while he waited for someone to open the door. He stealthily slipped into the hospital, quietly made his way to the Permanent Damage ward, and snuck into the room of two of the most decorated Aurors of the last war, both having received the Order of Merlin, Second Class for their heroic efforts. The medals were given "posthumously" because the pair had been cursed into insanity by the LeStranges. Dumbledore looked down at Alice and Frank Longbottom and sneered. If he hadn't made the fragment of the prophecy so vague, the deatheaters wouldn't have attacked both houses in the same night, though in the case of the Longbottoms, Dumbledore had convinced Alice and Frank to have little Neville spend time with his Grandmother, as they were supposed to attack a "suspected" Death Eater hide out later that night. Of course, the LeStranges got to them first, and the rest was history.

What nobody knew, however, was that he had ensured both sets of parents would be unable to raise their children. The Potters due to Voldemort's wrath, and the Longbottoms due to his own treachery. Both boys fulfilled the requirements for the prophecy, and he'd gone out of his way to ensure they'd grow up broken, ready to be forged into the weapons he needed them to be. Which was why he regularly applying an alchemical mixture that kept them mentally impaired. His plan was, should the Potter brat prove useless, to give them the antedote, and reunite the family, insinuating himself into the boy's good graces, and earning his undying loyalty. So long at the mixture held out, the pair would remain in their semi-vegetative state. It was diabolical, he knew, and should Augusta ever find out what he'd done, would likely need to tangle with the old bag, a not so inconsiderable risk, as the old woman had been a champion duelist in her prime, and he had it on good authority that she could still take any of Tom's inner circle.

He produced the tincture from his pocket and dripped three drops each into their open mouths as they snored quiety. That would hold them for another few months. He smiled. His plans were coming along swimmingly.

(snap snap)

Harry: Age 11

Morticia looked up into the sky as Harry fled his cousin's newest attempts to murder him, firing bolt after bolt with that crossbow of hers while he dodged, ducked, and weaved his way through the various trees on the property while flying on his brand new Nimbus 1500 he'd gotten for his eleventh birthday while Wednesday chased him on a Clean Sweep six she planned on upgrading as soon as her own birthday came along, three weeks from then. While Wednesday's attempts to end her cousin's, life were a bit more half-hearted than they'd used to be, she kept trying to keep up with appearances. After all, Pugsley proved a far easier target, yet seemed to have inherited his uncle's unwillingness to die, and the family's ability to ignore all but the strongest toxins with the tenacity of a honey badger. Harry dove under Ichabod's playfully murderous attempt to unseat Harry with a vicious upswing, and Wednesday's eyes widened in surprise as the giant cudgel narrowly pulled back in time to keep from sending her careening in the opposite direction. She flew closer, and gently pat the tree on the nearest branch. "It's alright, Ichabod. I know you tried." The tree shuddered in disappointment, then the branch leaned out to gently nuzzle the odd girl before she flew to the ground, where Harry was waiting for her.

Harry stood with his broom and pulled out his box of cloves that Gomez had convinced him to start smoking. They were a particularly tasty brand, and he smiled as he offered her one. She declined as she handed over a Galleon. He pocketed the gold coin and shook his head. "Wednesday, my sweet, I told you my new broom was fast enough to close the gap before old Ichy could hit me. Poor thing's getting on in years, and it might be time to think about putting him out to stud."

His pet death adder, affectionately named Gan (short for Jormungandr) slid out of his collar and hissed grumpily. "I swear, Harry, you've got the dumbest hobbies. If you were meant to fly, you would have had wings." The adder turned his nose up his tongue flicking this way and that as he tasted the air, "I think that nest of robins had an accident. I can smell my lunch. Ta."

Harry chuckled as the three-foot-long death adder he'd found as a toddler in the mansion's ophidiarium slid into the brown grass and made his way towards the chick that thrashed in the grass, closing in for the kill. While he watched, Wednesday smiled slightly as she slyly drew a straight razor from the back of her skirt, and slid forward, intent on cutting opne her seemingly unaware cousin.

The boy seemed to have eyes in the back of his head, as he bent down to tie his shoes the very moment she took a swing at him, then he stood up, accidentally catching her under the jaw with the back of his head, and ringing her bell. He looked down, and saw her laying on the grass, dazed. He quirked an eyebrow, shrugged, and picked up her broom to go put them away, puffing happily on his clove cigarette. Today they were all planning on going to the Black Magic Section of Sunset Boulevard, a known area where magic users in Los Angeles tended to spend their time. Granted, it was in a hidden part of the street, but "squibs" of magical families in the states had been responsible for the birth, and flourishing, of the motion picture industry. So, it made sense that Hollywood would spring up close to where so many magicals tended to hang out.

He was going to pick up some newbooks. Grandmama's library was extensive when it came to what the family considered necessities, such as curses, hexes, necromancy, and divination, but he wanted to branch out. He wanted to study up on the basic curriculum he'd be forced to take when he went to Ivermony when he turned eleven, to make sure he was ahead of his peers. After all, an Addams always sought to be the best he could be. Sure, his name was still technically Potter, but the blood didn't lie, and he'd already found he could shrug off everything short of basilisk venom, and that was only because he hadn't tried the potent stuff yet. He saw Morticia and Gomez, the loving couple that had raised him as their own, and made his way over, stopping to wave at Lurch while he trimmed the branches on Ichabod's lower trunk. Lurch groaned loudly as he stiffly raised his arm, and Harry laughed. "I'll do my best, old man! But you know how hard it is to find catgut thread these days. I'd just find a few strays and make my own, but they got wise to me. I know they won't sound as good, but you could always string your violin with nylon, you know." Harry shrugged as he walked over to his foster parents. Gomez shielded his eyes as he heard a shrill cry, and one of the family vultures landed on Gomez' oustretched arm, lifting a leg to hand him a letter.

"What's this?" Gomez asked s he looked at a familiar seal, and guffawed. "Well, well! It appears the ban on our family has finally been lifted! Hogwarts will have an Addams or two under it's roof for the first time since…since…"

"You and Fester blew up the old Astronomy tower during graduation?" Morticia smiled, recalling the happy memory. Not only had they blown up the Tower but had set up landmines that spelled out Gomez' proposal of marriage to Morticia that also detonated when the first bits of masonry from the tower fell on the grounds. If they hadn't been graduating, they would have been expelled. In fact, they'd already been handed their diplomas, and Gomez had lit a fresh cigar when Fester had pulled out the detonator.

"Hey now, if I hadn't done that, you never would have agreed to carve your name in my thigh. What halcyon days those were. Now then, where was I…Ah, yes! It appears the board of Governors has finally agreed to give into their greed, accept my ludicrous bribe, and allow Wednesday to attend with Harry! I had a good feeling about that Malfoy fellow. Kind of reminds me of good old Tully, but much better at being a swindler." He looked over at Harry, "Sorry champ, but I'm afraid you'll just have to help your cousin remind them why we were banned in the first place! Maybe you can try for Ivermony afterwards."

Harry shrugged. It was going to be fun going to a magical school, and from what he heard, Hogwarts was a dreary, wet, and cold place most of the year, only giving way to disgusting sunshine and unfortunately pleasant weather for a few months. He looked forward to getting away from sunny California for a few years. Granted, it did seem as though a permanent thundercloud hung over the estate, but it did clear out occasionally. 'Can't have all the fun', as Gomez would say. Harry looked at the ground, and saw his favorite snake looking up at him. "What's the matter, Gan? Did that baby robin get away?"

Gan shook his head, sadly. "Much as I would love to go with you, Harry, Scotland's a bit cold for me. Be sure to write me, would you? I'm sure one of the Addamses can read it to me."

Harry frowned. He hadn't considered that. "I'll be sure to bring you some juicy rats from the castle then. After all, it's always best to try new foods from foreign countries Never know what new and exciting diseases you'll pick up that way."

To be continued

Author's notes:

I know this one kinda went all over the place, chronologically. I just wanted to set up some plots for further down the road, rather than simply write him up as going to Hogwarts.

Fester hasn't come back yet, that'll come later (not unlike the original film).

Hope you guys keep reading. Your comments and continued patronage motivate me to keep this going!

Until next week!