Disclaimer is in chapter 1.
As was 'normal' with the Addamses, the days passed in swift, if often disjointed and bizarre, fashion. They spent some time in the castle, but also got out to visit the local magical community in Toledo, the Villa Del Brujas, or Witches Street. It was probably about twice the size of Diagon, Xander decided as he walked through the crowded plaza, everyone making room for them as people recognized Marietta Addams.
That was something he was getting used to, the Addams name carried far but where they were recognized by sight it was otherworldly how fast people got out of their way. Xander wondered if it was like that for Gomez and Morticia in America?
Witches Street was much like Diagon in what it had to offer, though Xander noticed a couple smithy shops and the like with swords on display, as well as some items he'd never seen before like a Magic Carpet shop. He paused in front of that one, checking out the advertisements.
Family Carpet, Flies Six!
Racing Carpet, Hundred and Twenty mile per hour top end!
And so on, as he looked.
"Interested, young master?"
Xander looked up, startled as the owner of the shop approached. "Uh, no I don't think so. I'm just surprised, I've never seen a flying carpet before."
The man looked at him quizzically, "American?"
Xander nodded.
"Odd, from what I understand America imports carpets for recreation purposes."
"I don't have a lot to do with the magical community there, yet," Xander admitted, "I've been schooled at Hogwarts."
"Ah, well that explains it." The man said with a chuckle, "Unlike America, Britain has a ban on carpet imports under their Muggle Items laws."
"Yeah? Weird."
"Not especially. The Nimbus Broom company is based in Britain, and they have friends in the Wizengamot and Ministry," The man explained, "Carpets were cutting into their business. In America no one uses brooms or carpets enough to matter. They're not really useful for transport when people can live hundreds of miles apart or more, so in larger countries like America they're really just used for sport and hobby."
"Oh." Xander nodded, "You know, I'm not surprised that carpets were biting into broom sales. I don't really love the whole broom experience myself."
The salesman chuckled, "Let me guess, robes bunch up on you?"
"Yeah. What is up with that anyway?" Xander asked, "I mean, I thought I was doing something wrong, but..."
"No, no," The man assured him. "Let me guess though, American Broom?"
"Yeah..." Xander said, confused.
"Thought so. You see the comfort charms are different on European Models, and since you have a British instructor on flying... well, you've learned the wrong grip."
"You're kidding me." Xander blurted, eliciting a chuckle.
"I'm afraid not, get a hand book from your Broom company, it should explain the differences."
"Thanks."
"No problem, young man," The salesman smiled, "I love to talk flying. However, I believe I see a customer, so I must bid you a farewell."
Xander said bye to the man and moved on down the street, thinking about what he'd been told. He stopped again by a smithy, and began to examine the swords and shorter blades on display. A barrel shaped man noticed him and moved around a huge anvil in his direction.
"May I help you, young sir?"
"I'm just looking for now," Xander admitted, "Though I'm thinking that I may like to buy a blade soon."
The man grunted, sizing Xander up. "You carry one now."
Xander looked at him sharply, "How did...?"
"Right boot, outside edge, under your pant legs. I can see it in how you walk."
Xander nodded slowly, impressed. He'd received the blade from his uncle two years earlier, but had only received permission to carry it toward the end of the previous summer. Xander thought that Sam was being a little paranoid, but he'd gotten in the habit of planting the blade in his boot every morning.
"May I?"
Xander nodded and kneeled down, drawing out the Fairbairn Sykes dagger from its sheath and casually flipped it over and handed it to the smith pommel first.
The man took it, glancing it over with a grunt and handed it back. "Muggle made, mass produced. Adequate."
"I'm still learning," Xander said with an easy grin, "I wouldn't know a great blade from a piece of junk, but my uncle said this would serve well enough."
"He's right, it's an adequate design." The smith affirmed, turning to a wall with a lot of blades mounted on it. "This, however, is a real weapon."
Xander accepted the blade from him and twisted it over in his hand. It was about the same length as his own dagger, with a wider blade and beveled point that gave it a more elegant look. The blade itself was mottled with dark patterns, and its polished gold pommel and rope wrapped grip gave it a practical but artistic look.
"Very nice." Xander admitted.
"Damascus Steel recipe, Toledo Steel workmanship," The man said simply, but with a certain pride in his voice. "The muggles lost the ability to make that material centuries ago when the Persian Ministry finally agreed to sign with the ICW in 1704. It won't dull, it won't break, and unlike your blade it'll hold an enchantment if you're interested in that sort of thing."
Xander nodded, handing the blade back. "I'm impressed. Do you make swords the same way?"
Narcissa Malfoy tiredly sank into her chair, wearily activating the lamps with a wave of her hand as she considered the situation.
On the plus side, her idiot cousin hadn't gotten himself caught yet.
That was about the only thing that seemed to be going in her favor at the moment, however. Fudge, the imbecile, was increasing Dementor security around the school in response to Sirius' encroachments in the fall.
There would soon be over a hundred of the blasted things infesting the area, and frankly she was beginning to be afraid for the children, her Draco most of all. She was no expert on the beasts, of course, there were few if any outside the Department of Mysteries that could make that claim, but she knew that they weren't exactly the most discerning of beasts and they had already broken through the outer wards of the school.
Fudge swore up and down that it was an aberration and wouldn't happen again, but that was no more or less than she expected of the idiot. She was disappointed in her husband, however, for backing the Minister on this subject. The man she'd married wasn't this STUPID.
Narcissa growled, driving her elbow into the chair in a small fit of pique. She was so CLOSE to doing something she had given up on ever being able to accomplish, and not only was that little TOAD of a Minister standing in her way, but he was also risking her only Son's safety in the process.
It was infuriating!
Francis Hardy sighed, weary by the complications he was dealing with. This whole exchange idea had sounded like a lark when it was presented to him, a way to travel a bit while keeping his tenure track. He had three students in Beauxbatons, all from Quebec, everything ran smoothly there. There were two in Durmstrang, siblings from a second generation German American family, and everything ran smoothly there although he had to make some hard points concerning their Dark Arts program.
Hogwarts, however, was a yearly headache.
First, he didn't even know why the hell they had anyone there. The blasted course load was antiquarian, which made things all the tougher on the students. The Addams girl didn't surprise him all that much, not any more than anything else at any rate. She was an Addams, after all. Why the Harris lad was there, though, was a real pain.
First it was just a simple matter of following the Addams girl, Hardy suspected. But this year the Harris family had swung some of their weight around, keeping the boy in Hogwarts when a few people wanted to try and convince him to go to Salem.
He was showing some real promise, that one. His little potions accident was fast tracked to being a multi-billion dollar invention, and he was showing hints that maybe it wasn't entirely a freak accident. The Headmaster at Salem wanted to bring him in to an easier program, where he wouldn't have to do twice the work of his peers to make up for below par education in classes like Defence, History, and Potions.
The school had the best Charms and Transfiguration programs in the world, as long as you didn't count a few dedicated apprenticeships and the like, but it hardly made up for the shortfalls in the other core programs.
Getting Harris into a better balanced program should bring his marks up significantly, and give them a chance to see if he needed any special help in certain areas. As it was he was holding on with respectable grades in most areas, but Hardy knew the boy could do better.
And now this idiocy with the Dementors.
Honestly.
Who put soul sucking monsters around a Franklin be Damned SCHOOL?
Hardy suspected that it was a simple budgetary decision on Fudge's part, of course. Aurors wanted to be paid, Dementors just wanted to suck people's souls out. No brainer there.
Literally a no brainer, Hardy was starting to think.
He sighed, rereading the official complain Gomez Addams had placed with the American Ministry and the ICW concerning the whole affair. They had no authority to tell the brits to do anything, but the potential for outrage at home was turning into a fiasco on its own. He didn't even want to THINK about what would happen if one of the kids were attacked.
Briefly he toyed with the idea of teaching them the Patronus Charm, but he had decided against it.
The Patronus was useful, but really it was nothing more than pissing in the wind when you were dealing with more than one Dementor. They things were no geniuses, but they knew enough to split up and attack from two directions at once. So even if he succeeded in teaching two underage children an incredibly difficult and, frankly, nearly useless charm it wouldn't likely do them much good.
So Hardy found himself in nightly meetings arguing with the likes of Cornelius Fudge and Albus Dumbledore over the life and safety of two of his charges.
One way or another, though, he wasn't going to let those two bastards stonewall him on this.
Perhaps it was time to bring Arthur in on it, though. He knew Dumbledore personally and may be able to convince the man to bend a little.