WARNING: Alright, this is the chapter where I start to justify that 'M' rating. If you've made it this far, but are squeamish in the face of blood and guts, turn back now.

Author's Note: Thank you all for reading. I especially am thankful for each review sent my way. I love reading what you guys think. I don't necessarily do requests, but I am often inspired by the comments I read. That said, here's the latest chapter. Let me know what you think.

-o-o-

Chapter 4

Sculpture and Dance

-o-o-

Back when it was still their headquarters, half of the Order of the Phoenix could not walk through the foyer of Grimmauld Place without setting off Mrs. Black's portrait. Interestingly enough, the entire Addams family was able to pass by without issue. Even the added challenge of moving in didn't cause them to awaken the harridan. It wasn't really even that they were trying to be quiet. They all just moved with various levels of grace and stealth naturally.

Harry had in fact forgotten all about his godfather's mother.

When everything had been brought inside, Harry went to join everyone inside, but was stopped by Gomez. "We've got a little surprise for you." He said with a lopsided grin, his lit cigar in one hand, and a silk blindfold in the other.

Harry looked at the cigar and blindfold. "A firing squad?"

With a sharp laugh Gomez stuck the cigar between his teeth. "Don't be ridiculous. We didn't bring any guns with us." He handed Harry the blindfold. "Put that on, I think you'll like this."

Harry tied the silk tightly around his eyes, and allowed Gomez to lead him inside. Almost immediately he could smell the distinct aroma of blood, and was that whimpering he heard?"

As Gomez tore the blindfold away and yelled, "Tada!" A few things happened all at once.

Harry saw the Addamses all lined up along the walls, just awaiting his reaction. The curtains on Mrs. Black's portrait sprang open, and she began screaming. What drew his attention the most was a grotesque display right in front of the screaming portrait.

There was a pool of blood with a makeshift throne formed from the headless bodies of three Death Eaters. Rising from the back of the throne were three pikes holding the heads of the aforementioned Death Eaters. Decorating the throne were four silver masks, and four wands were displayed before the throne, just outside the pool of blood. The centerpiece of the gruesome work of art was a still living Death Eater sitting on the throne made from his dead friends. Tied to the the throne, he was gagged and whimpering piteously. Tears flowed freely, and even with all of the blood, Harry could smell proof that he had lost control of his bodily functions.

Harry walked forward, fascinated by the grisly beauty. As he got closer, he started getting more annoyed with Walburga Black's constant shrieking.

"Filthy murderers! Vile blood traitors! How dare you strike down those who follow the Dark Lord!" She noticed, and recognized Harry. "You! Disgusting half-blood, what kind of vermin have been allowed to walk the halls of the house of my forefathers!"

"Oh shut up, your precious Dark Lord is a half-blood same as me." Harry said forcefully, but without raising his voice. "In fact, my blood is purer. His father was a muggle."

"Liar! The Dark Lord will cleanse the world of you and your ilk!" She screamed in defiance.

"I'll deal with you later." Harry said with frustration clear in his voice. "Kreacher!"

The house elf appeared next to Walburga's portrait, which immediately ordered him to kill the intruders.

Harry leveled a murderous glare at Kreacher. "Shut her up, or I will. I'll use fiendfire if I have to." He growled.

Fearful that he'd lose his beloved former mistress, Kreacher snapped his fingers, and the curtains slammed shut. The only sound left in the room was the pathetic sobs of the bound Death Eater.

Turning his attention back to the captive Death Eater, Harry ripped out the gag, and looked him in the eyes.

Before Harry could say anything, the man realized who he was and began to beg. "Potter, Potter please. Call the aurors, call Dumbledore, I'll do whatever you want, just don't let them near me again." His crying went on, even as he continued to beg. "They're insane. Please Potter, I'll do anything. Anything!"

The hope in the broken man's eyes died as Harry pulled out the small dagger that Wednesday had given him to practice with. Harry grinned as he pressed the tip of his blade into the man's flesh. He had an idea.

-o-o-

"Harry would never hurt anyone." Hermione said with conviction. "At least not on purpose. He doesn't have it in him."

The five teenagers were meeting in the Weasley's orchard this time, and were discussing how they could get in contact with Harry. They were worried about their friend, and the adults didn't seem to be doing anything.

Ginny rolled her eyes. "That's not the point Hermione. Fred and George managed to get mum to let them sit in on Order meetings. They told me that everyone is sure that Harry just activated all of the wards on Grimmauld Place."

"Yeah, we all know Harry wouldn't hurt us, but the Blacks are known for having some pretty nasty spells protecting their properties." Neville pointed out. "Even knocking on the front door wrong could get you sent to Saint Mungo's."

Hermione crossed her arms and huffed. "Well what do you suggest? I'm worried about that other wizard you guys said was with him. I'm afraid he's done something to Harry."

"You don't think he works for Voldemort?" Ron asked, worry evident on his face.

Ginny found herself rolling her eyes again. No wonder Harry was always getting into trouble if these two were his best friends. They both missed the obvious far too often. "Ron, if Voldemort was involved, Snape would have told the order about it."

"That doesn't mean anything. I still think the greasy git isn't really on our side." Ron said, looking affronted at the thought of Snape as a good guy. "Anyway, Snape hasn't been around for days, not that I'm complaining mind you."

Luna was weaving blades of grass into a circlet which she carefully put on her head. By all appearances, she wasn't even paying attention. "Why don't we just send him an owl?"

Here Ginny was mentally berating two thirds of the 'golden trio' for missing the obvious, and all of them had overlooked the simplest solution. "How did we miss that?!" She exclaimed, frustrated with herself. "We even have his owl here at the Burrow. Hedwig's can bring him a message, and she's smart enough to avoid any dangerous wards that could hurt her."

"What do we say though?" Ron asked, not sold on the idea. "Hi Harry hope you're well. By the way, are you being controlled against your will by some creepy wizard?"

"I think we should each send a letter with Hedwig." Luna said as she withdrew a small scroll from her robes. "That way he'll have more to read, and know that all his friends are worried. I wrote this the other day. I used an owl quill with peppermint ink. When he reads it, the wrackspurts should fly away long enough for his mind to clear."

Everyone just stared at the lone Ravenclaw. How could someone be so brilliant be so... well... loony. Seemingly oblivious to their stares, she began adding wildflowers to her grass crown while she whistled serenely.

-o-o-

Harry carefully woke the Death Eater, and patted him on the cheek. "There, that wasn't so bad was it? Now, I need you to go report in to you master okay?" He looked at, and spoke to the Death Eater as if the man were a small child needing comfort.

Having screamed his throat raw, the Death Eater had no voice, and could do nothing but sob silently.

Harry gently led the broken man to the door, and down the steps. "Remember, straight to Voldemort." He said kindly, then his voice darkened. "Don't make me actually try to hurt you now."

Fear overrode pain, and the Death Eater disapparated despite his injuries. He wound up splinching slightly, but the hand left behind didn't worry Harry. His messenger would survive, at least long enough to deliver the message. Picking up the severed hand, Harry sauntered back inside.

He had been enjoying himself so much that he'd forgotten that the Addamses had been watching him. He was completely surprised when he found himself facing the entire family smiling at him. Gomez and Fester shared maniacal grins while they clapped, Gomez slowly, and Fester madly. Morticia and Dementia had similar gentle smiles, and even Lurch's normally passive face was upturned. Granny Frump cackled knowingly, and Pugsley simply grinned at him with a thumbs up.

Harry found himself looking toward Wednesday, who was staring intently at him, the barest of smiles gracing her lips. For the briefest of moments, Harry was lost in her eyes. He tore his gaze from her, and tamped down familiar yet alien feelings. The last time he felt this way he was nursing a crush for Cho Chang, only this was much stronger. Frankly he was terrified of the way Wednesday was making him feel, and he had no idea what to do.

Gomez walked over, and brought his hand down onto Harry's shoulder with nearly enough force to break it. "Good show old man! We had a feeling about you, and there's no doubt now."

"Was this a test of some sort then?" Harry gestured toward the pile of corpses with the severed hand.

Gomez shook his head. "Nonsense. This was a gift! We wanted to throw you a small party for being such a gracious host, and now we know what kind of party it will be." Crazed look in his eyes, he stood tall, pointing his index finger high. "Tonight, we dance!"

-o-o-

Finally having recovered, Dumbledore conferred with Mad-Eye over what to do about Harry. "Have you been keeping an eye on the house? If we can catch him outside, then we can rescue him from himself."

Mad-Eye glared at his old friend. "What kind of idiot do you think I am Albus? I can't be there all the time, but I've got a rotation set up. Had to use Dung today. Don't like that, I don't know why you trust him. If you'd let those Weasley twins join, then we wouldn't have to rely on the bloody thief."

Dumbledore sighed. "They are so young Alastor. Molly is upset enough about having her eldest as a member."

"That's bullshit and you know it." Mad-Eye dismissed his reasoning. "The boys want to join, and their of age. If they're anything like their uncles, then we need them."

"That is the problem. They are very much like Fabian and Gideon." Dumbledore pointed out. "Molly still feels the loss of her brothers keenly. She is terrified that her sons will suffer the same fate."

"That's not her decision to make." Mad-Eye shook his head in frustration. "Another time, we're getting off track. We know that Potter is living with an entire dark family. From what we've seen, they're all moving into Grimmauld Place."

"There has been no opportunity to liberate Harry?" Dumbledore asked with concern.

"The few times we've seen him, he's been popping out from under that damn cloak of his." Frustration was evident in the scarred man's voice. "Albus, something changed. I can't see through the cloak anymore."

"What about a revealing charm?" Upon seeing his friend's icy glare, Dumbledore dropped that line of thought. "Of course, my apologies. This is troubling."

"You know why his cloak is now perfect all of a sudden?"

"I have theories, but nothing that would help us bypass the cloak's power." Dumbledore massaged his temples. "We at least know where he is then. I shall try the direct approach, and talk to him. At the very least, I can search his mind to find out how far he's fallen. With luck we can fix this before the summer ends."

-o-o-

"My lord." Bellatrix said carefully as she approached his master. "One of the men from my raid has returned. He is barely alive, and bears a message from Potter. The boy has grown fangs."

Voldemort narrowed his eyes. "You thought to read a message meant for me my dear Bella?"

She gulped nervously. "No my lord. I... I don't know what the message is. Its how Potter wrote it that shows me he's playing rough now."

Unamused by the lack of clarity in his Death Eaters explanation, he ordered the message brought before him.

Two men had to drag the bloodied limp form of the 'surviving' Death Eater before the Dark Lord. With glazed over eyes, the nearly dead man stared without seeing. Across his face was carved the simple message, 'A gift for the Dark Lord.'

Noticing that the man's robes were loose, Voldemort ordered them opened. Blood soaked the fabric that was lifted to the sides, revealing a more in depth message carved deeply into his torso. Beneath the carving, an envelope was pinned to his flesh. The bloody message was the prophecy in its entirety.

Voldemort rose from his throne, and tore the envelope free, eliciting a soft whimper from the barely living man. He tore open the letter, and read the final message.

-o-o-

Dear Tom, may I call you Tom? I feel we should be close enough to call each other by our first names don't you think? In case I haven't made myself clear, I've gone through some changes recently. I suppose you could say I've had a change of heart.

I hope you weren't fond of this man, I think I broke him, but he makes the perfect messenger don't you think? Displayed artistically I've given you the prophecy you seem to so eagerly want to know. It's rubbish if you ask me, but I'm not sure you care about my opinion, I know Dumbledore doesn't.

Dumbledore seems to think it means that you and I must face each other and duel to the death. I don't see the point. You're a sick, depraved, monster, who has long since abandoned his humanity. I find I can respect that, and I hope you realize that I'm no longer the 'golden boy' Dumbledore so desperately wishes me to be. I have no desire to kill you Tom. You've tried to kill me, and have successfully killed my family, and those close to me, but you've always been crystal clear with your intentions, so I can't hold those murders against you.

I offer you this deal. Stop trying to kill me, and I'll leave you alone as well. Continue, and I will make you realize exactly why I am your equal, as I find and destroy each one of your soul fragments. Yes I am aware of your play for immortality, a foolish goal, but who am I to judge. I wonder if you are aware that you've placed one of your soul fragments within me? That's right, that famous scar of mine contains a scrap of your soul. It explains our 'connection,' and raises some interesting questions. For example, I wonder it connects us in such a way that I share your immortality? Depending on how you interpret the prophesy it could be true. You're the expert on soul magic, you tell me.

Take some time to think, and send me an owl with your thoughts. As far as I'm concerned, my enemy is Dumbledore, not you.

Harry Black

-o-o-

Voldemort stood there, silent and contemplative. He showed no emotion save curiosity. After several uncomfortable minutes, he spoke. "See if he can recover. If his mind or body are broken beyond repair, kill him. Otherwise see that he makes a full recovery. I have use for men who can survive such brutality."

Surprised, the two men holding up their injured comrade took him away, much more carefully than they'd brought him in.

"Master?" Bellatrix prompted in confusion.

"I have to ponder this new information. For now let everyone know that Potter is to be left alone. For now." He sat back down, and began to re-read the letter.

She did not understand, but then it wasn't her place to understand. "Yes master, I will make certain your servants all know your will."

As she backed away, He called out to her. "Oh, and Bella? Make sure that no one who sees the prophecy other than yourself remembers it. How you do so, is up to you. Enjoy yourself, but leave the healer alive until our friend is either dead or fully recovered."

With an insane smile, she bowed low as she backed out of the room. "Thank you master. I won't fail you."

-o-o-

The family started to disperse so they could work on settling into their new residence. Harry remained in the foyer, admiring both the macabre work of art, and how he just felt like part of their family.

Lurch began disposing of the bodies. Despite their beauty, they were in the way. Besides, as Granny Frump pointed out, no sense wasting good meat.

While Harry watched Lurch work, he felt a tug on his robes. Looking down he saw Pubert reaching for the severed hand Harry was still carrying. Laughing, he let the appendage drop into the eager toddler's hands.

Pubert squealed with delight, and shoved the thumb into his mouth as he ran off.

"You'll spoil his dinner that way." Wednesday said from behind Harry. "Then again, I suppose it is a special occasion."

Harry turned to see Wednesday holding a dagger in the air by its tip. "I doubt it will be everyday that I have a severed body part to give him." He said with a smile.

"Not with that attitude you won't." She agreed in her own way while letting the dagger in her grip wobble slightly. "Are you ready to continue learning how to use one of these as something other than a writing implement?" Even though the smile she had graced him with was no longer there, Harry couldn't help but feel that she was still smiling at him.

Harry's smile widened. "That would be brilliant."

The two teenagers began searching for a suitable room to practice in, walking in relative silence. Opening doors here and there, they paused occasionally to stab whatever creature was unlucky enough to view them as a snack.

Eventually Wednesday stopped, and waved Harry over. "This room will do nicely." She said as she slipped into the darkness of the room.

Harry followed, and noted that it was an interior room with no windows. The only light came from the doorway, and he hadn't thought to bring a candelabra. Looking around he could tell that the room was an armory of sorts. Probably used more for display than anything, there were rows of swords and axes that vanished into the shadows along with other instruments of death.

"Should I have Kreacher light up the room then?" Harry asked as he slowly walked in, scanning the darkness for any hint of Wednesday. His dagger already drawn and held low, his pulse quickened in anticipation.

Without warning, she was behind him. With an iron grip that seemed out of place on such a slight frame, she held his wrist tightly, preventing him from using his weapon. Her other arm snaked around him to press her blade lightly against his throat. "Why don't we just throw you right into the deep end this time?" She pushed just hard enough to pierce his skin. "That's a point for me. You have ten minutes. See if you can stop me from getting twenty points."

Harry felt her release him, and vanish. He could feel his pounding heartbeat in the tiny cut she left on his neck, and tried in vain to calm himself. Excited for more reasons than he had time to examine, he rapidly searched the shadows for any sign of the elusive girl.

Wednesday used to play this game with Pugsley, until it had become too boring. Even though Harry was less of a challenge than her brother, she found that she was enjoying herself. Harry was fast, and if she allowed the slightest glint from her dagger, then he'd turn to face her. Sometimes it seemed he had eyes in the back of his head. He had an unnatural ability to spot the smallest shine, even if it was out of his field of vision.

Despite his hidden talents, and her drawing things out, she soon had him bleeding from nineteen different places. There was still three minutes left, and she was not eager for the game to end. There was something about the subtle scent of his blood. Remembering the taste of it, she found herself wanting to lick his wounds clean.

Harry marveled at how effortlessly the pale girl disappeared into the shadows. Every time he caught a glimpse of her, or what little light there was reflecting off of her blade, she vanished again. Almost like magic, he felt cut after cut. He knew he wasn't going to win, but he was shocked at how easily she slid past his guard.

On instinct he turned abruptly, whipping his knife around in a wide arc. He was rewarded with the sound of steel striking steel. Again acting without thought, he grabbed her wrist even as she grabbed his own. They stood there for a moment, staring at each other, and he was surprised at her strength. They seemed evenly matched, as he was unable to force her own blade back toward her.

Any illusions he had about her strength were shattered as she slowly pressed forward. He was unable to stop her from pushing him back until he was pressed against the wall. The sharp point of an ancient spear grazed his cheek, and he felt a trickle of blood run down until it met the corner of his mouth. His lips parted slightly, allowing him to taste the salty metallic tang of his own lifeblood. In the dim light, he saw something stir within her ebony eyes.

Barely louder than a whisper, she said, "That's twenty." Then she leaned forward, and captured his lips with her own. Reveling in the taste of his blood mixed with his kiss, she closed her eyes and let her dagger fall. A second clatter let her know that Harry had let his own weapon go. Releasing his wrist, she slid her hand around the back of his head and took a handful of his hair. Finding her other hand free, she placed it on his shoulder, even as she felt his arms wrap around her.

Harry pulled her tightly to himself. As he felt her grip his hair painfully, he deepened their kiss. He knew his arousal was apparent as it pressed into her hip, but he couldn't spare the thought to be embarrassed. He was lost in the moment, and all that mattered was the feel of her body pressed against him, and the taste of her lips.

Neither teen noticed the silhouette briefly outlined in the doorway. A knowing smirk graced Morticia's lips as she turned and left the children to their fun.

-o-o-

The doorbell rang, and the curtain covering Walburga's portrait sprang open. First screaming the vilest epithets she could muster, the portrait fell silent as she noticed the wide smile of Granny Frump who had been passing by at that moment.

"Come on, you have such a lovely voice dear." The old crone remarked. "You aren't interrupting anything now either. No reason to hold back. Let's see if you can't give this old woman a nice headache."

Lurch shambled past, and opened the door with his standard greeting. "Yooou raaaang?" His moan formed the words, albeit slowly.

Of all the things Albus Dumbledore was expecting, a seven foot animated corpse, dressed impeccably as a muggle butler, wasn't even on the list. "I was wondering if I could speak with Harry Potter." He managed to say after a moment of being speechless.

Lurch moaned, and shambled out of sight, leaving the door open. Tempted though he was, Dumbledore did not dare to cross the threshold. He could feel the sheer malice of the Black wards that were now active.

After a few minutes of standing there watching a hag chat with Walburga Black, Harry stepped into view.

"Harry, thank goodness you're alright." Dumbledore said, even as he reached out subtly with his legilimency. "We were all worried when you disappeared, and then suddenly evicted the order from headquarters."

Dumbledore was not happy with what he found at the forefront of Harry's mind. Bitter hatred directed at him, along with a distinct sense of being pulled away from something enjoyable.

"I'm fine. Better than that, I'm in control of my life for once." Harry said with a frown and narrowed eyes.

"You need to return to Privet Drive Harry, it is no longer safe here now that the fidelus has fallen." Dumbledore said, knowing there was no chance of Harry agreeing. He just hoped he could keep Harry talking long enough for him to find something useful in the boy's surface thoughts.

Surprisingly Harry grinned, and snorted with mirth. "I like it here. I have no desire to return to that house. As for the danger, I'll take my chances with Tom."

The thoughts that skipped past confused Dumbledore. He expected the boy to not want to return to Privet Drive, but his reasoning was unexpected. Harry held no resentment at all for the Dursleys. It was the house itself he wanted no part of.

There was no thought at all connected to Voldemort, which meant that Harry had indeed learned at least some occlumency from Severus. It also meant that Harry did not want him to know what his thoughts on Voldemort were. That worried him.

Dumbledore switched tactics, and tried to see if any of the boy's Gryffindor nobility remained. "You are risking more than your own life. Remember the prophecy, the wizarding world needs you Harry."

Harry just stared, no thoughts at all were readable. Not good, not good at all. Harry had truly reverted to his original personality.

In an effort to appeal to his need for a family, he tried one last angle. "What about your family? You're the last Potter. If you perish, so does your entire line. Surely you want to have a family of your own?"

"There are no more Potters." Harry said with a sneer he was unable to prevent. "Just like Sirius felt he belonged with the Potters more than his own family, I belong here. The Potters are dead already."

A set of memories were all but forced upon the aged wizard as he searched the edges of Harry's mind. Harry being informed that he was heir Black. Harry talking with a sharply dressed muggle about who he really was. A meeting with a young goblin involving a legal and magical name change. Drops of blood soaking into a stone basin, and the words 'Harry Sirius Black' forming in the air. Dumbledore stumbled backward as though struck. Harry Potter truly was gone.

"Go away headmaster. I'm fine right where I am, and I don't need your help." Harry said with finality as he closed the door in Dumbledore's face.

Crestfallen, Dumbledore began making plans. He needed to talk with Alastor. It seems their worst fears were accurate. Without wasting anymore time, he disapparated nearly silently.

Inside Harry muttered to himself as he walked away from the door. "Stupid old goat was too concerned with reading my mind to even notice I was bleeding. Safety my arse, he just wants me back under his control."

-o-o-

As was the case with most wards, the protections on 12 Grimmauld Place allowed post owls through unmolested. There was a charm set up to force the owl into a receiving room if anything dangerous was detected; other than that, owls could easily come and go as they pleased.

As Wednesday was about to continue teaching Harry in earnest how to use a knife, a snowy white owl flew into the room, and perched on Harry's shoulder. Nipping his ear affectionately, Hedwig offered her leg which had five tightly rolled scrolls attached.

"What have you got for me girl?" Harry asked as he untied the scrolls. "Hedwig, this is Wednesday. She's a friend. Wednesday, this is my owl Hedwig. She's the smartest owl I've ever seen. Aren't you girl?"

Wednesday looked at Hedwig curiously. "This is how wizards send letters? Interesting, what if you try to send something too big for her to carry?"

"Depends, there are spells that can shrink or lighten a package, or if the package can't be charmed, then a team of owls will deliver it." After briefly scanning one of the scrolls, he looked between Wednesday and Hedwig. "These are from the people I used to be friends with. I'm kind of curious what they have to say. I should also feed Hedwig, Do you think your grandmother will mind an owl in the kitchen?"

"Owls are silent hunters, swooping down and killing their prey without any warning. I'm sure Grandmama won't mind a kindred spirit." Her dagger disappeared somewhere into her dress, and she offered her arm to Hedwig. "I don't believe we'll have time to do too much more before the party anyway, let's go offer your raptor some fresh meat."

Hedwig surprised Harry by hopping over to Wednesday's arm. "Looks like she agrees with your plan."

They walked in silence to the kitchen, where Granny Frump was busy with several simmering cauldrons, and a roast of some kind. Lurch was busy butchering the last of the Death Eaters on the kitchen table.

As Harry sat down to read his mail, Wednesday picked up a slender knife, and sliced a few small strips of flesh for Hedwig. She happily took the offered meat, and greedily ate. Satiated, the owl flew to the tops of the cabinets, and settled in to watch her master.

"Anything interesting, or are they like the old man from earlier?" Wednesday asked.

Before Harry responded, there was a series of muffled explosions that perturbed Hedwig, but failed to cause anyone else to react.

Harry tsked. "Most of them think that I'm being controlled by your family. They think I need rescuing, so no, not like Dumbledore. He knows that this is the real me. They honestly want to help."

"Do you think they'll accept you like this?" Granny Frump asked while she poured the contents of one of her cauldrons onto the roast. "Good friends are almost as important as family."

Harry thought about it while re-reading Luna's letter. Unlike the others, hers blamed wrackspurts for his change in personality. The way she worded the letter though... It almost seemed like she was asking if they could still be friends regardless. "Maybe. One of them anyway. The others I'm not so sure of. I think I'll invite them over. If they can handle who I am, then they're welcome. Otherwise, I'll let Pubert play with them."

-o-o-

Night came, and Harry dressed in the finest dress robes he could find that fit him. They had belonged to Regulus, and were a deep green with ruffled silver trim. Slightly out of date, they actually fit quite nicely with the old fashioned maroon suit that Fester wore. Fester led him through the house to a small ballroom that he and pugsley had cleared of vermin, which explained the earlier explosions he had heard.

"You're in for a real treat!" The bald Addams said with a hoarse laugh as he led Harry to where Pugsley stood in the center of the room.

Pugsley was dressed like a Russian dancer, and had an excited look on his face. Behind the teen stood Gomez, who was dressed much like his brother, and the rest of the family was in a loose circle surrounding Harry and Pugsley. Wednesday, Morticia, and Dementia held tambourines, and Lurch was off to the side holding a violin. The faithful butler watched Gomez as he awaited some kind of signal.

Gomez began to circle the two boys, and describe the origins of the traditional Addams family dance, the Mamushka. He listed off several historical events when the Addamses danced the Mamushka in celebration. "... We danced as the Black Plague swept across Europe, and now Harry Black... we dance for you!"

At the end of Gomez's speech, Lurch began to play, the women slowly struck their tambourines, and Pugsley grabbed Harry's hand. Starting out slow, the music filled the room. Puglsey led Harry through the Mamushka as the music grew in intensity. Soon Harry could feel the music flowing through him, touching on his magic, and guiding his steps. Pugsley produced several daggers from seemingly nowhere, and the dance grew dangerous. Faster and faster the music played, and the ringing of steel on steel echoed as the boys clashed their blades again and again. Harry felt his blood boil in ecstasy, and Lurch played faster than his massive body should have allowed. The daggers flew through the air in a deadly show of skill that Harry knew he did not have, but with the music guiding his actions, he knew exactly what to do, and when to do it. In a final display, Pugsley sent each dagger hurtling toward Harry who caught each one. As Harry stood holding the blades with his hands and arms, Pugsley produced one last dagger which he tossed high into the air. Catching the final dagger in his teeth, Harry stood still as Puglsey danced around him.

Gomez circled once more, singing as he danced the opposite way as his son. The family rotated around as well, until Gomez stood still, and cried out, "Wait! I swear by mummy and daddams... This black-hearted boy... I declare an honorary Addams!" The music restarted, and Gomez finished singing, declaring the Mamushka the dance of brotherly love.

Lurch continued to play at a more sedate pace, and the women discarded their instruments in favor of dancing. Food was laid out at the edge of the dance floor, and everyone ate and danced to the butler's talented playing. Riding the high from the Mamushka, the party lasted long into the night. Harry was passed from woman to woman, until he found himself toward the end of the party slowly dancing with Wednesday.

Despite her emotionless features, Harry couldn't help but remember their kiss, and the look she'd given him prior to it. His only other experience kissing a girl was Cho, but that had been a disaster. He wasn't willing to think that he was falling in love or anything ridiculous like that, but he definitely fancied Wednesday, there was no doubt about that.

The night finally ended, and Harry half stumbled his way back to his room, still slightly drunk off the magic from the Mamushka. He might not love Wednesday, but he was definitely in love with her family. The Addamses were so passionate about everything they did, and there was no duplicity. Some like Wednesday and her mother could hide their feelings, but even they didn't seem capable of lying.

He hadn't even known them for a month, and already they had practically adopted him. Not because he was the Boy-Who-Lived, but because of who he was, and the things he had done. He knew he would gladly die for any one of them, and even more cheerfully kill for them. Most importantly, he knew without a doubt that they felt the same about him. The last thought he had before sleep took him, was that he finally had the family he had always dreamed of.

-o-o-

Author's note: I find it interesting how people assume that Harry would still want to kill Voldemort.

The main 'villains' in the movies were killed not because they were trying to kill the Adamses, but because they were trying to separate the family in some fashion. They actively try to kill each other for fun, attempted murder is just playtime to them.

Harry is perfectly willing to kill Voldemort still, but he'd rather just let him be. By Harry's new point of view, Voldemort has done nothing worth getting worked up about.

To Guest reviewing chapter 3: I don't know exactly what constitutes a lemon. There will be suggestive sexual content. There will not be explicit sexual content. If it was a movie, you might see boobs, but that's about it before it fades to black. Another way to look at it is: I'll stop describing in detail once their clothes come off. I will do my best to remain in the 'M' rating, and not slip into 'MA'

To Guest reviewing chapter 3: "we are interested we want more"

I couldn't help myself, this review made me laugh. I have this image in my head of the Borg Collective hunched over a single computer reading fan fiction. Hopefully you guys enjoyed this chapter as well.