Disclaimer is in chapter 1.

Christmas came quickly, Xander's days being occupied with exploring, studying, but mostly dodging the Addams' siblings 'games'. Honestly he wasn't sure how the duo survived some of the stunts they pulled off, but he was far from confident that he would be able to do the same, so he did his best to stay out of the way when they started playing games that civilized nations didn't inflict on their worst criminals.

Of course that brought some attention to him as well.

"Aren't you having fun, dear?" Morticia asked him one morning when she found him reading and most certainly NOT hiding from Wednesday's latest 'Game Storm', which involved lethal injection and fire ants.

"I'm great, Mrs. Addams." Xander assured her, "I just like to read, that's all."

Back in Sunnydale Willow flinched as a deep chill ran along her spine, and Jessie jumped as if spooked.

"Please, it's Morticia." The elegant, though dark, lady said with a knowing smile. "Are Wednesday and Pugsley's games not to your liking?"

"They're a little more... risky than I'm used to," Xander said with a grin, "But that's ok. I really do like to read, now anyway."

"Now?" Morticia asked, taking a seat beside him as Pugsley tore into the room, most of his clothes eaten through and a large army of red ants chasing him. "But not before?"

Xander tore his eyes away from the direction the Addams heir had gone, looking at Morticia, "That didn't concern you at all?"

"Boys will be boys." She said airily, then raised an eyebrow as Wednesday funeral marched through the room after her brother, a huge needle in hand. "And Wednesday will be Wednesday."

"And the kids at school wonder why no one in Ravenclaw bothers her." Xander shuddered. "Only the Gryffindor's are stupid, I mean 'brave', enough to take a shot at Wednesday."

"Oh? Does my little darling have some lion admirers?" Morticia asked with a hint of a smile.

"Not living ones." Xander said dryly.

"Marvelous."

Xander couldn't help but smile a little as he shook his head. He had gotten somewhat used to the Addams sensibilities, or at least what they put forward for public consumption, but it still amused him every time he experienced it. He wasn't actually convinced that the Addamses were really any different than anyone else, really, Xander often suspected that they just wanted everyone to THINK they were different.

Pugsley rolled back into the room, covered in ants and screaming as Wednesday liberally sprinkled him with steak sauce.

Ok, they may be a little different.

Christmas day with the Addams was about as close to normal as Xander ever saw them act. That morning they settled down like any other family, surrounded by decorated skulls and even more disturbing paraphernalia, and just spent time with each other.

It was almost picture perfect.

Ok, so the picture was a little twisted, but hey Xander had spent some of his past holiday's outside in the yard cause he didn't want to hear his parents scream at each other. No matter how twisted, there was purity in the familial love that the Addams held that beat that hands down.

Idly, Xander wondered if his parents still screamed at each other on Christmas, or if the reintroduction to the magical world had begun to heal the fractures they'd endured. He would have to spend a Christmas at home soon, he decided. Just to know.

The Gifts of the morning were what Xander had come to expect, from the disarmingly innocent (and generally deceptively lethal, to the bizarre and horrifying. Xander had received a long rapier from Gomez, on that looked as old as the castle they were in, and some assorted bits of explosives, chemicals, and components for his projects from the rest of the family. He had to gape at most of it in awe because, unlike the trunks from last year, Xander knew exactly how much the materials cost and furthermore how hard it would be for him to acquire any of it and he was stunned.

"My god." He choked, "This is..."

"Don't you like it?" Morticia asked softly, "Wednesday made several strange suggestions, but she generally knows about such things..."

"It's... incredible. Are those..." Xander hesitated, "Dragon heartstrings?"

"Indeed. Poor thing," Morticia sighed, "Poachers chased it onto Addams land a few months ago, along with its Pride. By the time the family had finished... harvesting... the poachers, well this one had died of its wounds. Valiant creature, however, it defended its fellows with its life."

"Thank you." Xander croaked, mind still almost blank. "I..."

He just shook his head, still stunned.

He wasn't the only one to be stunned, mind you. As the gifts continued to be passed around Xander's gifts to the family were opened. They were mostly small things, such as a poisonous black rose Xander had managed to get Neville Longbottom to smuggle out of the school greenhouse for him, the cutting had survived and was now growing strong again, much to Morticia's delight.

"Hear now, boy, that's my wife you're charming!" Gomez chuckled, grinning widely as he slid his cigar back into his mouth.

Morticia rolled her eyes as Xander blushed, but didn't comment as she cooed to the budding rose plant.

Fester and Pugsley got a binary gift of potion flasks that left them confused until Xander suggested they mix them. The ensuing explosion blew both of them out of the room, leaving Gomez black with soot with a smoking stub of a cigar in his teeth as Xander dropped the Protego protecting himself, Wednesday, and Morticia.

"Good show." He complimented the boy, grinning through the soot, "How far do you suppose they flew?"

"Probably back into the snakepit, if I aimed it right." Xander deadpanned.

"And you said you didn't like to play Addams' games," Morticia said with a soft smile.

"No, I said they were a little riskier than I was used to."

She nodded, but held an amused glint in her eye as the Christmas ritual continued.

Gomez was the next to stop as he opened his own gift from Xander and stared. "My boy..."

He numbly drew out a blade in the rapier style he preferred, noting the distinctive mottling of the metal that told him it was Damascus steel and unconsciously whipped it through the air a couple times to test its weight.

Near perfection.

He snapped it to the left, flat of the blade curling around his waist slightly as he caught the tip behind his back and drew it the rest of the way around, holding the sword like a belt around his waist, tip the pommel in the front. Then with a snap he let it go and the blade snapped back straight and true and he stared at it.

"It's beautiful." He said, noting the Addams coat of arms on the hand guard.

Xander smiled, "I'm glad you like it. Figuring out what to get the family who has everything they want, well that's tough."

Gomez smiled again, suddenly, "It's marvelous my boy, simply marvelous."

Morticia clapped her hands slightly, "That said, it's time to eat."

The Hols moved by quickly after that, and before long it was time to return to school.

They loaded into the car, as they had arrived, and drove off into the mist that seemed to grow up to meet them.

A time later, Xander wasn't sure how long they had been driving through the mist, they broke out into the small town of Hogsmeade and glided to a stop near Madame Rosmerta's. Gomez ushered them all inside to where Wednesday and Xander saw Professor Hardy waiting as he sipped on a bottle of butterbeer.

"Ah, Mr. and Mrs. Addams, children." he nodded, setting the bottle down.

"Professor." Xander and Wednesday chorused, drawing a smirk.

"Mr. Hardy," Gomez said seriously, "Do you have them?"

He nodded, retrieving a couple hatpins from his pocket. He handed one to Xander and one to Wednesday. Xander looked at his, noting that it proclaimed his love of the Los Angeles Kings hockey team with some amusement. Wednesday looked at her LA Lakers pin with substantially less, however.

"What are these?" She asked disdainfully.

"Portkeys," Hardy answered, "They're one way tickets out of Hogwarts wards, straight to the Magical Receiving Zone of the American Embassy in London."

The two children blinked in surprise, but gave the pins slightly more interest.

"They're only to be used in an emergency," Hardy warned, "but if something happens, like those Dementors get on the property again, then don't hesitate. Pull the pin apart, then you have about two seconds before it and anything touching it is dropped right in the MRZ. Don't draw your wand when you arrive, and if you already have it out, drop it on the ground. The Marines there are squibs, and they don't have a sense of humor."

They both nodded.

Hardy knew he was overdoing it with that warning, the Marines were diplo protection people and were used to all sorts of folks arriving at the MRZ, but just the same they would react badly to a drawn wand so it was better to have the kids be careful. During darker times, like the last war with Voldemort, the MRZ had been staffed by members of the Pride, not squib marines, and the reception to a drawn wand in those days was a lot cooler.

"Now like I said, those are emergency use only," He stressed again, "it took a lot of work to get those for you, and your headmaster had to create them himself. Don't play with them, wear them all the time, and be careful ok?"

"We will." The two said.

"Good. We'll meet for our first class of the session in a week. We'll be working on Chemistry and Physics. Prepare yourselves."

"Yes Sir."

Hardy stood up, nodding to the Addams. "Mr. Addams, Mrs. Addams."

"Thank you for your help, Professor." Morticia said serenely.

"It's my job," he replied wryly, "I'm glad I could help."

Xander and Wednesday found Hermione in a funk when they arrived back in the council, the bushy haired girl was sitting alone at their usual table in the library. She looked depressed and more than slightly frazzled as they split around her and sat down on either side.

"What's wrong?"

Xander winced slightly, noting that tact was not really Wednesday's forte.

"Nothing."

Wednesday merely nodded, "Alright."

Oh for. Xander sighed, pinching his nose, "We can tell something's wrong, Hermione."

"I don't want to talk about it."

"What happened with Harry and Ron?" Xander asked, sighing.

"How do you know...?"

"It hardly takes a genius," Wednesday spoke up, "You are rarely affected deeply by anything else."

Hermione crumbled then and spilled the whole sordid tale of Harry getting an expensive broom for Christmas and how she'd told the Professors about it and it had been taken away to be examined.

Xander winced, but shook his head, "Yeah, I can see that causing some friction."

"It could have been from Sirius Black!" Hermione defended herself.

"Hey, not arguing." Xander held up his hands, "But you know, Harry? He's not real big on self-preservation, remember? Anyway, I doubt Black would try anything like that so don't worry about it, he'll get the broom back."

Hermione looked at him narrowly, "What makes you say that?"

"If Black tampered with Harry's broom it would probably be to make it fly into the girl's showers or something," Xander said dryly, "That man had a real weird sense of humor."

"And how would you know this?" Wednesday looked up with an arcing eyebrow.

Xander scowled a little, shrugging, "Black had a hand in writing the Grimoire."

Hermione's eyes widened, "Xander! You have to tell the Headmaster!"

"Why would I do that? That book was written years before he turned on the Potters," Xander said, then shrugged, "if he turned on the Potters."

"What do you mean, IF?"

"Look, no offense to you since your British and all, but what I've seen of the local government doesn't really instill me with confidence. They locked up Hagrid last year on no evidence, helped toss Dumbles out of the school when, frankly, we needed every wand we could get in here..." Xander muttered, "I mean really, they threw the most powerful wizard alive OUT of the school and locked US in here with the freaking SNAKE. Does this make sense to anyone?"

Hermione had leaned back, her face shocked at Xander hissing outburst.

He didn't wait for an answer, "And now this year Sirius Black escapes from the Azka-whatsit place, so they think it's a good idea to turn Hogwarts into New Azkaban. No offense, Herms, but you Brits are nuts. Frankly, I think we'd have been safer if they just locked the prisoners in here instead of sending us the Guards."

"Indeed," Wednesday said sourly.

"I'm sure that Minister Fudge had a good reason..."

"Fudge is an incompetent fool." Wednesday said simply in response to that.

"Yeah, probably," Xander shrugged, "Incompetent or crooked."

"Why not both?"

Xander snorted as Hermione looked affronted.

"Just because you two are from America doesn't mean you have to look down on our government..."

"No, we look down on it because it's stooped over so low Fudge's nose has dirt on it." Xander smirked.

"I'm not certain that's dirt," Wednesday replied lightly.

Hermione scowled at them again, face flushed as she rose to the defense of her nation, but Xander cut her off with a grin.

"Feeling better, are we?"

She glared at him, then her eyes widened for a moment before narrowing again, "Oooh you..."

"Pleased to assist," Xander said, "And like I said, don't worry about Harry. He'll come around, though next time, Herms, you should tell him first. You ever go over my head before trying to reason with me, I'm going to get real angry too... even if you ARE right."

"Agreed." Wednesday added as she reached for a book, considering the subject closed.

Hermione winced, her stomach suddenly clenching. "I suppose that makes sense."

Xander just snorted as he opened up one of his notebooks alongside a reference book and a GURPS magical sourcebook.

Unfortunately for Hermione things seemed doomed to get worse before they got better, as even though her relationship with Harry stabilized shortly after, Ron seemed determined to make her pay for the loss of the Firebolt, bringing it up nearly constantly when the three talked. Xander watched as Hermione spent a couple miserable weeks, leading into a miserable month, in which the girl became more and more frazzled with each passing day.

It puzzled him because while she was having trouble with some of her friends it didn't seem to be so bad as to cause what he was seeing. He caught up with Wednesday one morning at the Ravenclaw table for breakfast, that topic on his mind.

The dark girl merely frowned ever so slightly and shrugged when he brought it up. "I'm not certain. I've been wondering too."

"Oh, it's a Tremwrurts infestation," A blond to Wednesday's left said airily.

"Huh-wha?" Xander blinked, looking over at her.

"Is it really?" Wednesday looked over herself, suddenly seeming interested in the conversation.

The blond nodded.

"What's a Trem-whatsit?"

A nearby Ravenclaw snorted, and several others giggled.

"Something not to be discussed in front of the plebes." Wednesday said acidly, rising from her breakfast. "I have class, we'll talk later."

Several of the 'plebes' looked affronted, but none of them quite had the courage to challenge the statement. Xander just sighed, confused, and hoped he would understand the explanation.

Before they could have that conversation, Hermione's problems seemed solved. The broom was returned and there was much celebration among the Gryff's, and a fair amount of griping amongst the Ravenclaw's who were next slotted to play a match with the lions. Said reprieve lasted only a few hours however, Xander found out in the morning, when her pet cat killed Ron's pet rat.

The bushy haired girl was near in tears at breakfast, sitting well away from both Harry and Ron, and her moment of reprieve from the frazzled look she had been cultivating was long gone. She was nervous and seemed tired, often acting like she didn't know where she was supposed to be.

Xander presumed it was a sign of the whatsit infestation, assuming the blond girl had the slightest idea what she was talking about. He hadn't been able to find any reference to it when he looked, yet Wednesday seemed to recognize the term.

Wednesday was another puzzle, he was discovering. She had buried herself in her studies in a way he hadn't seen her do before. Not that she wasn't a good student, she was, she just never seemed to study. Her time in the library with he and Hermione was usually spent on private reading, as far as he could tell, yet now she was pouring over reference books and barely grunted when he tried to talk to her.

Girls.

Well, Girls and Addamses.

Xander figured it would be a bad sign if he ever understood either.

Then, in a rapid-fire assault on the school, Sirius Black made another attempt, this time getting as far as Harry's room where he was caught standing over Ron when the redhead woke up. Xander shuddered at that, the idea of waking up to someone wielding a knife over your head was chilling, but he was also now driven to understand this Sirius Black.

How the man from the Grimoire became a deranged knife wielding psycho was something Xander couldn't fathom. So, in the meanwhile, he steeled himself and returned to his room while it was empty and pulled out the Coven Grimoire for the first time since before the holidays.

Narcissa was nearing the end of her patience.

Her fool of a cousin INSISTED on sticking his head into the noose, and there seemed to be nothing she could do about it. Honestly, sneaking into a boys bedroom to kill him, then *running* away when a twelve year old woke up.

The Black's weren't the noble and kind hearted family in history, Narcissa would be the first to admit, in only in private, so she was fairly certain that several of them were rolling over in their graves at the moment.

Not because Sirius had tried to kill a child, but because he'd failed in so stupid a fashion.

If you're going to kill someone, their Great Grandfather had always said, do the job right the first time. Because your second opportunity may only come at a time of your target's choosing. And that was no way to run an assassination.

Honestly, he could have finished it then and there, Narcissa scowled. She didn't care one whit for the Potter boy, live or die didn't matter to her, so she rather wished Sirius had finished the job. At least then he could put this stupid obsession behind him and maybe they could have gotten the damned fool out of the country and away from the Dementors.

Argentina was nice this time of year, Narcissa considered, and the Black's owned an island off the coast somewhere in that region.

She thought it was in that region at least.

The blasted thing was covered in so many wards that only one person alive knew how to get there, she suspected.

And that one person was trying to get his soul sucked out by the bloody Dementors!

Were she a different person, Narcissa Malfoy would have screamed her frustration to the world then. As it was she merely stiffened her step and made her way back to her rented room over the Three Broomsticks.

Damn her idiot cousin and her moronic husband both.