When Wednesday woke up that morning, she didn't open her eyes. Instead, she made a quick check of the room using her other senses to see if she was the only person up. It certainly seemed like it. Her eyes snapped open and her breath caught; she felt uneasy as everything from the night before came rushing back to her, and with it, what she had learned about her older cousin. She considered what to do, because she had to do something, he was blood kin, they owed it to him to right past wrongs.
After some deliberation, she realized she had to tell her parents, and that this was something that the adults had to handle. She was very well aware that had anyone gotten into something of hers, she'd be slow to forgive, so it was probably best she and her brothers didn't approach Cousin Severus just yet. She assumed that she wasn't the only one of them that liked not being a Potions ingredient., after all.
Decided on a course of action, Wednesday got up from her bed and dressed carefully, this was a rather formal occasion in some ways, and seeing as she rarely, if ever had to mar her parent's day with this sort of a report . . . She didn't want to dress like she was going to a family event or anything, but she did put on something better than her everyday clothes. Something that would (hopefully) signal to her mother on sight that there was something wrong.
Her chose to wear one of her older dresses; it was a set of some laying out clothes from the mid-1800s, the sort one would put on a girl about her age that was to be buried. That, along with some comfortable ankle boots and black tights.
She padded silently toward the window, unlatched it, and sidled out. Once she was outside the hallway, she climbed inside again, and, ignoring Uncle Fester's snoring, she crept to her parent's suite of rooms and knocked quietly on the door.
Her mother appeared with a startled expression on her face. "What is it darling? Is something the matter? Did your Uncle Fester having sweet dreams, are they making him cry again and keeping everyone awake?"
"Uncle Fester is having good dreams again?" Wednesday interrupted. Then she shook her head. "Never mind, Maman. Listen, please. Pugsley, Harcourt, and I were sneaking around last night, and we saw Cousin Severus' Pensieve, and - "
"Wednesday Friday Addams! Jeune femme, comment pourrais-tu? Vous savez que c'est privé!"
"Maman!" Wednesday cut in. "Cousin Severus was abused."
Morticia stopped mid-scolding, and her mouth dropped. "What do you mean, Wednesday? Expliquer, maintenant."
"I meant exactly what I said, Mother. We saw it in his Pensieve and . . . Mother, what kind of person does that to family? Random people, fine, that's all in good fun, but his own son?"
Morticia held Wednesday close to her and whispered, "Someone that belongs in eternal torment, mon cheri. How we never knew is what I can't understand . . . Come into our suite. I'll wake your father and we three shall discuss this: Do you want your brothers as well?"
Wednesday shook her head. "Non, Maman."
Morticia nodded and left to get Gomez. When the door had closed, Wednesday leaned back on the Swooning Couch and rubbed her temples. She couldn't believe it. Family . . . Didn't hurt family. Killing each other was perfectly fine, but torturing them over their entire life? If her father had murdered her mother in front of her . . . no wonder Severus was surly.
Tobias, from Severus' memories, seemed to be very adept at using psychological torture as well as physical. Ignoramus meathead. If he wasn't already dead, she'd kill him herself, slowly, excruciatingly, and it wouldn't be a prank. She vaguely wondered if one could crucify the dead.
Wednesday slouched, brooding in a cold, quiet fury until she finally heard her parents come down the hall from the master bedroom, into the parlour where she awaited them and straightened, correcting her posture automatically.
Her father rushed straight over and enveloped her in a hug, then pulled back and asked her, "Mi hija, ¿estás seguro? Absolutamente? ¿Por qué estabas usted en el Pensieve?"
She shook her head. "Yes, Father, I'm sure. I saw, all three of us saw it, then Cousin Severus woke up and caught us: he was very furious." She chose not to mention the camp thing; it wasn't necessary, and she'd get the details about it in due time anyway, if it happened. "We were being stupid and we wanted to understand why Severus is so grumpy. Harcourt didn't want to and said so, but Imade he join me and Pugsley." Their parents would have no trouble filling in the blanks on that on their own, she knew for certain.
Gomez and Morticia sat on either side of her and coaxed the whole story out of her, gently supporting their daughter for the hours it took, until pre-dawn. After they had calmed the alternately weeping and raging Wednesday back to the nursery, the pair sat quietly, thinking for a while, discussing what would have to happen in the days to come. Once Gomez had finally calmed his angry and grieving wife to a more even state of mind for their coming task, they got changed into something other than their lounging robes and went to Severus' rooms, to make a formal call on Severus. It seemed there was much to talk about.
….
The children weren't exactly sure what had happened. Wednesday had an idea, but not a full one. All they knew was that Cousin Severus, Uncle Fester, Grandmama, Gomez, and Morticia weren't around at breakfast, but came back after a few hours, and that Cousin Severus was far more pleasant afterward, if still, well, himself. He was s=glaring quite coldly at Harcourt, Wednesday, and Pugsley whenever he saw them, though, and Grandmama fussed over him a lot, while Morticia always seemed to be watching him to be sure he was alright.
The children wondered at it, but seemed to silently decide together that it wasn't irritating, so they may as well leave it alone.
They spent a bit of time in the tunnels that Pugsley had dug throughout their childhood, and started working on one that lead to the tree house. It was after noon, near four o' clock, that they took a break, and all of the cousins found out about camp. Once Pugsley had stopped talking, Ellen, Edgar, Eddie, Emily, and Vendetta, froze, and their mouths dropped in shock. Emily dropped her tuna fish and banana sandwich onto the dusty floor.
"WHAT?" Vendetta screeched.
Eddie clapped a hand on her mouth, and a small black fiend crawled out of Vendetta's hair and bit him. "Ow! 'Detta! Don't yell, you're loud enough to cause a cave-in."
Ellen blinked. "Cousins . . . How is that a bad thing?"
Emily rolled her eyes at them. "You're all overreacting. Just look at it logically, like a science project or an experiment or something. Our problem is that we are being sent to Camp. We don't know what camp, but we need to prepare for all eventualities. Logical eventualities," she added forcefully, seeing Edgar open his mouth. "Living mud aliens are not going to happen until you and Vendetta team up to destroy the universe. And wait until we're all of age before you do that, please. Now, if we're done with the interruptions, we'll all need magically enlarged bags, maybe some that can be shrunk and expanded without using wands, a few light Muggle repelling hexes . . . That takes care of bags. One each for stuff from the camp list and clothes, and then a bag each containing anything else we need, with two compartments, one of which that'll only be accessed if you have magic and a blood match. We can probably find them in the attic, if I remember right. Oh, and books, we'll need lots of books."
"Books?"
"Yes, Eddie, books. They're good for hitting idiots with, among other things."
Eddie nodded, and Pugsley clapped to get everyone's attention, "Okay, we probably only have a few hours until Debbie starts looking for us, so we have to move fast, come one!"
The teens and pre-teens scrambled, moving through the walls of the house, grabbing bags, blankets, potions, poisons, flashlights, books, pens, pencils, journals, clothes, parchment, whatever they thought they might need for Camp. They were, indeed, cut short by Debbie, but they had most of their things together by then. They did have to repack their Muggle bags, though; They didn't trust anything Debbie did for them. Only Wednesday and Harcourt found anything odd, and that was just a pen in each bag that didn't belong to anyone. Still, the pens were levitated by magic and then burned to cinders with Fiendfyre, the ashes were ground with salt and rice, and then boiled in a cauldron and fed to one of the piranha's, which was then flambéed and liquefied and then Vanished.
Severus Snape was not happy. He was somewhat glad that the Family had found out about his childhood, partly, but he still wasn't happy about it. They had taken him to a psychologist, one that they had worked with before, when Pugsley was acting strange a few years ago, Mr. Black, who had recently finished studying again. He absently wondered if he would get more schooling again after this, as he had after Pugsley.
Mr. Black had gotten in in touch with another of his clients, one that he was supposed to be able to talk to without either of them passing judgment on the other. One Carnation John. He tried not to pull a face. Carnation, a flower name. John, meaning son of John, a surname with the same meaning as Evans,
He really was Fate's plaything, it seemed.
He hadn't called the woman yet, but he was supposed to by seven o' clock. He checked the clock. 6 fifty-eight. For the love of Merlin . . .
He snarled to himself as he dialled the number, and waited for someone to pick up. "Y'ello?" came a sharp, female voice.
"Hello, this is Severus Snape, I'm - "
"Oh! You're the guy I'm supposed to spill my guts to when Black can't be bothered? I'm Carnation. Er, listen, I;m getting ready to go clubbing, so why don't we talk, say, tomorrow? I think I'm free around noon-ish. So how about you meet me in the main square, and if we hate each other, come up with a mutual lie to tell the good doctor to get him off our backs. Okay? Good? Bye!"
Severus had a feeling that tomorrow would be a long day . . .
The children sat in the back seats of the car, barring Emily, who'd beat Wednesday to shotgun, and all of them had their arms crossed, and sullen expressions on their faces. They passed a rather cliché sign proclaiming the word 'Chippewa' for everyone in a bright, polished wood that looked vaguely like bamboo covered in earwax flavoured Bertie Bott's Beans.
"Chippewa, how charming," Morticia said happily. Obviously, she thought that they wanted to be here. Eight very different plans for murder ran through eight different heads, none of which would be able to be pinned on the perpetrator.
"What's 'Chippewa'?" Pugsley asked in a semi-interested tone.
"It's an old Indian word," Gomez said, at the same time that Emily did. Emily raised her eyebrows at her Uncle, but didn't say anything else.
"It means 'Orphan,'" Wednesday muttered.
The Addams children glared distastefully at the area around them as they got out of the car. A lake, with canoes, picturesque cabins, and girls in frilly pink and white dresses, pastels, and boys in khaki and blue. Eurgh
"Fresh air . . . The scent of pine." Gomez wrinkled his nose and handed Pugsley and Edgar lit cigars. Eddie already had one, and Harcourt was talking with Wednesday.
"Wednesday, Harcourt," Morticia said to her twins, gripping their shoulders, "look at all the other children… their freckles, their bright little eyes, their eager, friendly smiles… Help them."
The twins were starting to assure their mother that they would help the other kids when a girl in a disgusting flowery pastel dress approached them.
"Hi! I'm Amanda Buckman. Why are you dressed like that?"
Wednesday sneered at her. "Like what?" the she and Harcourt asked the blonde girl.
"Like you're going to a funeral," Amanda told them, then her voice started sounding two parts disgusted, one part pitying, and one very irritating part sad. "Why are you dressed like somebody died?"
Harcourt smirked at her. "Someone died every four seconds in this world, Amanda. Who knows, you might be next, just wait."
Amanda gulped. Her parents joined them.
"Hi," the man said. He was going slightly to seed. "Don Buckman," he proclaimed proudly, as he shook hands with Gomez. "Isn't this place something else? Very exclusive."
Gomez answered out of politeness, not really asking a question. "Really?"
Mr. Buckman smiled. "Oh, yeah, a kid has to be extra special to get in here. Gifted. Exceptional. Our Amanda here has already skipped two grades. How about your boy?" Stuck up twit.
Gomez slapped Pugsley on the back. "Probation!" He told the shorter man proudly.
Mrs. Buckman, meanwhile, was trying to gossip with Morticia. And failing at it horribly. "We just love Chippewa. Amanda couldn't wait, it's all she talked about. She's got a whole new wardrobe." She looked at Wednesday, Emily, Vendetta, and Ellen. "And these little ladies?"
Morticia gave the bottle blonde a cold smile. "Oh, the girls at that very special age when they have has only one thing on her mind."
Mrs. Buckman leaned forward and asked knowingly. "Boys?"
Wednesday glared and said in a monotone, "Homicide."
Mrs. Buckman ave a sharp smile that fell gradually as each girl gave her answer.
"Medieval torture methods."
"Human experimentation."
"Dictatorship."
She turned to Harcourt, a vain hope in her eyes. Harcourt gave her a cold smile and said sweetly, "Pyromania and man eating plants."
Mrs. Buckman looked half ready to cry. How sweet.
A whistle blew shrilly.
"Attention! Hey, listen up, everybody! I'm Gary Granger!" a short, curly haired brunette man called out to everyone.
A perky blonde woman hopped in front of him and yelled to them all, "And I'm Becky Martin-Granger!"
"We're the owners and directors here at Camp Chippewa, America's foremost facility for… privileged young adults!"
"And we're all here to learn, to grow, and to just plain have fun!"
"They need even more help than the campers," Vendetta muttered to her new sister.
Wednesday barely heard Gary yell, "'Cause that's what being privileged is all about!" No it wasn't.
The Addamses tried not to lose the contents of their stomachs as Becky and Gary both jumped up and down and clapped. Wednesday took a sip from a bottle marked 'Poison' before passing the Belladonna juice around to her siblings and cousins. Camper girls ran to meet each other, squealing and hugging. Boys high-fived one another.
It was sickening.
Wednesday watched in interest as a boy's parents were squabbling and the boy sucked on an inhaler. He reminded her a bit of Neville at the start of the school year. She would have to remember to write him another letter, but not by owl this time, Agrona didn't like Madame Longbottom.
The next day, the kids were standing on the pier that reached into the lake, boys on one side, girls on the other, each in two rows. The Addamses on one side, the bobble-heads on the other.
"Lifesaving! Now I know we're all top-notch swimmers, but now we get to show our stuff and earn those certificates!" Gary yelled excitedly in their ears, jumping up and down, clapping, as the children clapped politely, and quite un-enthusiastically. "Hey, how about our first little pair of lifesaving buddies? Amanda, Wednesday?"
All of the Addams kids successfully suppressed their snickers.
Amanda sneered childishly at Wednesday. "Is that your bathing suit?"
Wednesday rolled her eyes and asked in a bored tine, "Is that your overbite?"
Amanda closed her mouth uncomfortably over said buckteeth.
Gary smiled at them, and Harcourt, who was right across from both his sister and Gary, absently wondered if the curly haired guy was a paedophile. "Now, one of you will be the drowning victim, and the other one gets to be our lifesaver!"
Amanda jumped up, her smile showing her overbite again. "I'll be the victim!"
"All your life," Wednesday told her amusedly.
Amanda ignored her. "I'm going to be an actress."
Gary smiled at her. "Brava! Now, Amanda, jump in, swim out a few yards, and start drowning."
Amanda did so, and began her thrashing around. It didn't look at all like a real drowning would.
"Helpb be! Helpb be! I'mb drownding!" Amanda called out,, her mouth half in the water. She was a terrible actress. Wednesday made a half-wish that the girl would go into the business, just so that she'd fail horribly and die a miserable death.
Gary looked at Wednesday and nodded toward the water.
Helpb be! I'mb dying!" Amanda yelled dramatically. Then she visibly took a deep breath and went under the water.
Wednesday looked away in disgust and told Gary simply, "I can't swim. None of my cousins can."
Gary looked pained. Bubbles came up from the water where Amanda had been.
Please let her be dead, please let her be dead, please let her be dead, please let her be dead . . .
But, as Gomez had said, 'you can't have everything in life.' Could they in death?
The children spent most of their time reading through history books, and things on folklore to find different ways to manipulate magic, casting sleeping spells on their cabin mated promptly at eight. So far, Emily, Ellen, Vendetta, and Wednesday had found a possible way to make electronics work around magic. The boys had found a way to talk to birds, and possibly walk on clouds when it was raining on said cloud.
Well, Old Magic never really made much sense when it was the only magic in existence, why should it now. Although, if they found a cloud on a lower part of the atmosphere, with another cloud over it, the spell might work. Or they could enchant watering cans.
3092 WORDS! WITHOUTH the AN/AR:!
Well, hope you liked it, and numerous thanks to Royslady51 for being brilliant and helping me with Morticia and the start of the chapter. Hope everyone likes this, and I'm gonna go and read some of my books on folklore and magic a few thousand years ago for ideas, and I gotta re-create the Addams family tree to incorporate the HP-verse . . . Review, please!