I own nothing so you can't have anything. JK Rowling and the people who invented the Addams family own their stuff, I made the rest up.

Hope you enjoy as my invisible friend and I are trying to come up with new ways to give Dumbledore pain. (Don't listen to him, we're nice people.)

Addams at Hogwarts part 5

Minerva was confused as her brain caught up with what had been said. Not the fact that Wednesday was happy, but that Harry owned Hogwarts. How the hell could he own Hogwarts? And if he did, just how secure was anybody's job? Tired and confused, Minerva led them back to the hallowed gates of Hogwarts.

Present

Minerva suddenly shuddered. That last bit from the day before Harry owned Hogwarts, and they had let his sister be bullied Oh god, oh god, oh god. She felt a migraine coming on and suddenly decided to floo Poppy for a potion; this was not going to be a day for happy memories.

Snape was fuming. That brat, that scum, that, that Words failed him. Not even Potter's miserable father and his scum friends had ever made Snape this mad. He couldn't look at his wand without feeling sick; he would have to have a new one made, and this one was going in the fire. Potter would pay. Oh yes, he would certainly pay.

Albus Dumbledore, leader of the Light, could not believe that his wand no longer worked for him. Simple charms were okay, but transfiguration and that? Nothing. He had never thought he would be disarmed, and then to have the wand He shuddered. The wand now considered Potter its rightful owner... He would have to get Potter to fight with the wand, then defeat him and reclaim it. He started to plot.

He shouldn't have, but as with many things Dumbledore had done that he shouldn't have, the knowledge didn't stop him.

Harry and his sister paced back and forth before a wall; the only decoration was a man trying to teach trolls to dance. The man seemed to be a lot less happy than the trolls, who waited until he wasn't looking to do pirouettes and other ballet moves. As soon as he turned back, they would start to hit each other with clubs or their shoes. As the door to the Room of Requirement appeared on Harry's third pass, Harry allowed himself a small smile. "So, Weds, you ready to become a Parselmouth?"

She just smiled her mysterious smile and made her way straight to Ravenclaw's tiara, ignoring all the other junk lying around. She smiled at the bust of the women wearing the tiara; picking it up, she looked Harry in the eyes and placed it upon her head.

The Riddle Horcrux in the tiara made a mistake when it decided that this magical person (even if it was only a girl) would be its new host; it would move onto a suitable male host later, if possible. Riddle's first inkling that this would not happen came when he saw an older version of himself strapped to a rack screaming, begging, pleading. The two Riddles locked eyes and in a moment of lucidity, the older one screamed: "Run! For all that is holy, run!"

The younger Riddle never had a chance. A small girl appeared behind him and quite happily smashed the back of his knees with a bat. It seemed as if the pain would never stop; a dark haired boy had appeared next, going over to the older Riddle. "So now, my dear Wednesday will be a Parselmouth, and together we can get the Basilisk out and have some fun."

Riddle tried to work out what they were on about, but he suddenly found himself on a rack next to himself as the scary voice of the little demon (he refused to think of her as human) spoke up. "Now, Harry, my Riddle has a long way to go to make up for attacking the family. I think we should do a duet in screams until we can have a choir of them."

They stretched the rack, poked red hot pokers placed in some normal placesâ€"like armpitsâ€"and some not so normal, and caused some very sore throats (screaming and lots of it). As the Addams siblings drank a cool, refreshing drink, they looked at the two nearly dead (wishing they were dead) Toms.

"So, Wednesday, Tom and I shall leave you and Tom to get acquainted on a more personal level."

The older Riddle looked at his younger self as he felt himself being dragged from Mistress Wednesday's mind. (He never made the mistake of calling her Mudblood, Halfblood, little sow, or any other derogative names after his first go. She and her family had not been kind to him and he just knew that no-one should have their fingers and toes pulled off, or that certain "male only" body parts should be cooked while still attached.) He prayed his younger self could gain control and maybe end both their existences, because if he got free and hurt Mistress Wednesday, they would both pay.

Wednesday smiled. "Now, Tom, let's share some ideas and some gifts. You give me the Parselmouth ability and the knowledge you have of magic, and I'll give you the gift of unconsciousness and the knowledge that my family and I often like to share things like torture and the giving of pain."

The Same Time in Holloway Prison

Marge and Petunia Dursley looked around their little cell. They were a far cry from what they had been just a year ago; Marge was quite a bit slimmer and had a gang tattoo on her shoulder. Petunia also had a gang tattoo on her chest, and others on her shoulder and her legs. They were not well liked and both had been passed around from gang to gang. Marge was not passed around so much as she was only used as the local slop bucket emptier and some of the more butch women like to entertain themselves by using her as a human punching bag. Or, if she was lucky, she was used as their toy.

Petunia still was skinny and her stomach could often be heard rumbling. When the inmates had heard how she had starved a child, they decided to give her a long list of chores from helping to empty the slop buckets to sweeping and mopping all the floors in all the wings, and unless she had done all that by dinnertime, she went hungry. She got her food every dinnertime, but sadly, it seemed she was clumsy and didn't notice the gang members' feet sticking out until she tripped over them. She was not used as a toy, but she was used as a furniture. She would be tied into a certain position and used as a chair or a table (that hurt, as they made her get into the crab position then tied brooms to her hands and feet so she was stuck at one height and unable to stretch or do anything but have hot coffee placed on her stomach).

She was really glad she only had 5 years left in her 8-year sentence. If she had gotten a 20-year sentence like Vernon, she would have chewed her wrists if she couldn't find anything to slit them with. As the two of them got into their bunks and pulled the sheets over themselves (someone kept taking their mattresses and blankets, so they had to cocoon themselves in the thin sheets they were allowed to keep to keep from feeling the bed slats digging into their skin or the cold so much), they drifted off; they started to dream well, relive the nightmare of what had caused this fall from grace.

The Dream Sequence

Marge Dursley looked around at her expensive surroundings happily. Her brother and his wife had treated themselves and her to a small cruise, thankfully leaving the freak behind. Marge smiled as judge Neville Normanmeyers sat beside her. He was a small man with a strong American accent and a habit of laughing for no reason. He seemed to favour sports jackets, flannel trousers, and Shirley Temples. The main thing that made Marge like him was that he smelt of money; a judge should be well paid, and most had a lot of money on the side.

"So Marge, you have any other relatives at home?" asked the judge, silently hoping that this magnificent women was single and not in a relationship. Marge smiled and then frowned.

"My sister-in-law has a freak nephew living with her; his parents were drunken slobs and died in a car accident, as far as I know. Thank god they only killed themselves and not some poor, innocent bystander."

Judge Normanmeyers lifted an eyebrow. "A freak?"

Marge sighed. "Yes, he's always in trouble, he can never be bothered to smarten himself up, and he steals."

She failed to mention he was only given secondhand, worn out clothes of Dudley's, so it was impossible for him to be smartly dressed, and she failed to mention he stole food because her brother damn well near starved him, but as these were little details, she decided they were unimportant.

The Judge nodded. "My brother Norman has a similar problem with the people over the road from him, the Addams Family. They call themselves that, but degenerates and misfits are what normal people call them, and I have seen them for myself; I think the label 'freaks' could well be applied to them."

It was the beginning of the road to freedom for one freaky little orphan known as freak, boy, and to some, Harry Potter.

The Judge and Marge had spent the day talking about freaks and other such things, and most importantly to Marge, it seemed that they both were single.

Vernon was shocked when Marge told him her friend the Judge's brother had freaks living opposite him in America. He wondered if they could load off their freak onto them. Petunia was against it but wouldn't say why, but with Marge and Vernon and her precious Dudley against her, she soon caved in. It would have been better for all of them to have never mentioned the freak and even better for them to have treated him like a human being instead of a cleaning implement like a mop and bucket (brought out to do cleaning, then locked in a cupboard under stairs when not in use).

After a little chat with Neville, Marge got his brother Norman's phone number and soon had an Addams on the line. The chat had gone well and the freak on the other end snapped up the chance to have the boy in his family. They explained how he would have to wait until they came back from their holiday until they could sign all the papers and get rid of the child, but then 13 days was not long. (No one noticed when the judge overheard some of the conversation and, rethinking some of his conversation with Marge, came to some disturbing conclusions.)

The rest of the holiday had been great, from the Dursleys' point of view, and soon they were on their way home to getting rid of the freak. Then came the big day. They sat there as a hired car turned up. (Marge and Petunia took turns looking through the curtains.) Their first instincts screamed freaks, as only one of the 3 males had on anything that could be considered normal clothing; the fat, bald one was in a monk's habit while the other was tall with slicked back hair, wearing a suit. If he had stopped at the suit, it would have been fine, but he had a large polka-dotted hanky in the suit pocket; while it might have been stylish in black or silver, it was magenta, and his shoes were bright red. It was lucky Petunia had warned them that the freaks, they should remember from growing up, had no dress sense at all.

The last man looked respectable and seemed to have a certain familiarity about him. It was all over in minutes once they came in: The papers were signed, hands shook, and cigars lit. The normal-looking one was apparently there as a witness and after he signed, they noticed he had the same last name as the judge. A quick question later, they found out he was the brother who had the Addams as neighbours; they also found out that the Addams had treated him to a short holiday in England for setting this up, though the Addams and their newest son were going home on the return flight. It had been while the freak was getting his stuff that Petunia had noticed a scowl on the man's face, but it had gone by too fast for her to be sure.

The idiot boy had left some of his schoolwork in his cupboard and ran to get it when Gomez asked if he had everything. Petunia hoped that no one noticed the lived-in look of the freak's bedroomâ€"of the broom closet; it was a vain hope, it seemed. When Gomez had asked why his stuff was in there, the freak, seeing it as a chance to get back at them, told him and Norman that it was his bedroom. That was where he slept and kept his stuff before his new daddy came for him. They had all left and the Dursleys hoped it would be taken as a child's joke. It hadn't, it seemed; Norman's brother, who had also came to England, asked him to look around. It was only days later that they were arrested and sent to jail, awaiting a trial.

The fact that she and Marge Vernon were in jail, and Dudley was in borstal, shows how the trial went.

From the Addams' Point of View, Same Day

Gomez sat with his brother and sighed at the monotonous scenery; each house was the same, each garden was the same, and even the same cars seemed to sit in the drives. "Gomez, old boy, I think we're rescuing the poor child none too soon; this is like a nightmare! Don't they have individual ideas or thoughts down this road?"

Gomez could only shake his head. "I think not, brother dear; I think they're clones." Even Norman, who liked everything in its place, had to agree that this place was depressing in its tedium, though he did refrain from saying so out loud. When the Dursleys opened the door to them, he had seen a look of disgust as they took in Gomez and Fester Addams. He had been shocked at the speed they used to get rid of the pale, skinny child who stood in the hallway; Gomez had nothing against either trait, but on this child, they screamed neglect. He also spotted a scar on the child's head and wondered if he had gotten it from an accident or from Vernon. When he had asked his new son Harry if he had everything, he was amazed at how a child of 7 could have packed everything he owned in two plastic shopping bags.

After the child had checked the bags, he made his way to the little closet under the stairs with a smile. "Forgot my school work!"

Gomez could smell the blood in that tiny space; he could feel the hunger and despair as the door opened, so he asked: "Why is your stuff in there? Is it so it was ready to go?"

Harry shook his head and looked right at him. Without a flicker, he said: "No, it's my room. My bedroom."

It had been lucky Norman was there, or the Addams brothers would have tortured and killed the Dursleys, but Norman, having seen Gomez explode in rage (carol singers never went to the Addams after that night), quickly led them out, saying something about the Addams' flight.

As soon as they left, for the first time he could ever remember, he agreed with Gomez Addams. "They are scum to keep a child in a cupboard; did you see the blood on the walls? I could feel the pain coming from that cupboard. They need to be punished." Norman looked at Gomez. "I'll tell my brother; he suspected something and now we need to move fast before they get rid of the evidence. I'm staying here for the week; I'll give you a call when I hear more. Now, calm down before you scare your new son."

It had been the right thing to say; Gomez went and hugged his newest family member.

A Few Hours Earlier

When Gomez Addams woke up that morning, after he kissing his wife, having a wash, and deciding on his clothes, he did what he considered his most important duty: He went to see his children. He smiled as Pugsley put his head in the Guillotine and Wednesday pulled the string; he laughed at her sulking when it only went half way down and Pugsley pulling his head out, running off with a laugh. He comforted his daughter and told her that one day, she would not need any imperfect instruments as she would be a grown-up Addams like her mother. Morticia never ever needed anything to make a grown person quiver in fear or to remove her foes. Then he went to see his son to compliment him on a narrow escape and for keeping one step ahead of his sister by sticking a bit of wood into the runner. He did hope his son had a backup in place; the same thing wouldn't work twice on Wednesday.

Then came the knock at the door and the call from Lurch to let him know Norman was here, ready for their flight. Gomez promised His little angel of death (Wednesday) that if he had time, he would get her a raven from the tower. He told them to make sure everything was ready for their new brother, kissed his wife, hugged his mother, and left for the plane. He knew his life and his family's lives would change; life always did with new children. He just never could guess how much.

Present Day Hogwarts

Harry smiled as he walked away from the Room of Requirements, making his way to the kitchens. He had to have a talk with the elves about his and his siblings' food needs; the rubbish served here offered nothing to a person who got off his butt and did something productive. He began to laugh a chilling, cold laugh. Oh, Riddle would regret killing his blood family.

Well, that's a update; hope it's okay. So until next time, bye. Thanks to Beta Lanie McCoy

and her brilliant work.