Chapter 11: The debacles of the first night

Summary:

Neville don't feel like he will have many friends.

Millie's expectations are not met.

The Headmaster has a headache.

Pansy is not having the first night at Hogwarts she wanted to have.

Morticia receives Hermione's letter.

Hermione and Blaise have dreams that aren't quite so.

Notes:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME,
BUT THE PRESENT IS FOR THEE!

Hello, my Darklings, it's been a while init?

I've missed y'all. How you doing? Happy holidays.

Thank you for all the comments, hits, kudos and bookmarks. We treasure each and every one of them. We've reached over 13k hits and over 240 comments, it warms my heart to know you guys like this silly little idea I got an year ago and roped Zero into my shenanigans.

This story is a year old and although we don't write as fast as you or us would like, we are full of ideas. Thank you for choosing to be with us in this journey of mayhem and chaos. Our writing has been evolving since the first chapter and it's thanks to you all that we are inspired to continue to write and evolve.

Without further ado, my dear Darklings. Happy reading!

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

With the adrenaline of finally arriving at Hogwarts and being sorted into the very same house his parents were part of still running wild in his veins, it was easy for Neville to lay wide awake on his bed. Ronald Weasley's snoring echoing throughout the room didn't help him either in trying to sleep. Neville was glad that Addams seemed to still want to be his friend because he gathered he would find it a bit harder to cultivate a friendship with the other boys if they would behave the same way Ronald did towards Hermione.

The redhead's sudden aggressiveness with Addams in the train was completely unexpected, especially since she hadn't said a word to him, she looked at the failed magic the exact same neutral way she did when he almost tripped into the boat to cross the Black Lake and had needed her assistance to not tip the vessel. Neville couldn't figure out what could possibly have triggered such the knee-jerk reaction from Ronald, and he didn't expect to discover soon, since the redhead was still finding a way to insult his friend even though she was not there to defend herself…or glare at him until he couldn't look at her anymore.

She would definitely be glaring at him.

The insults were thrown over his shoulder loudly as if Weasley expected everybody to agree with him just because they were all sorted into the same Hogwarts' house as him.

"Thank Merlin we won't have to see that slimy snake everyday right, Harry?"

Ronald said when the prefects were guiding them to their common room. To his credit, Harry didn't react to the comment, however to his shame, he just shrugged and kept his mouth shut. Especially since he had noticed that Neville seemed annoyed with the constant insults towards his friend. Unbothered by the lack of response, the redhead apparently took the silence as if the group agreed with him and kept going. All the way to the seventh floor, the conversation was sprinkled with wonder towards the castle and insults and complaints towards Hermione and sometimes spread to Malfoy. By the time they were getting ready for bed, Neville was ready to blow up on his new roommate.

In his haste to claim a bed beside Harry Potter, Weasley pushed Neville out of his way, luckily, the blond boy landed unharmed on the bed he was already claiming. Neville was happy that he got a bed next to one of the windows, that way he could have some plants in little pots in the room with him. When the subject of classes came up, Ron couldn't help himself and commented that he hoped they wouldn't have classes with the Slytherins, that way he wouldn't have to look at Addams' and Malfoy' slimy snake faces everyday. Neville was not an impulsive child and he was really good at keeping his temper, so he was surprised with himself when he saw red and was on his feet in a blur.

"You don't want Addams there because you're afraid of embarrassing yourself in front of her again. Stop bad mouthing my friend because you couldn't do a spell and she could."

To his own surprise, he said it all much louder than he intended, loud enough that every boy in the room heard and was currently paying attention to him. He saw the redhead's face start to alter to the same colour as his hair, if the blood rushing to his face was caused by anger or embarrassment was unclear, perhaps a bit of both. Ronald stumbled over his words for a moment before he puffed up his chest and raised his voice higher than Neville's in a likely attempt to disprove his failure.

"Well, she's a show off know-it-all, mocking people to their face and thinking she is better than everybody else."

Weasley shouted at him, as if him speaking louder would make him win the argument. If he wanted to fight, fine, Neville too had lost his temper.

"Mocking you? She didn't even say a word to you, in fact, she barely even looked at you. You are the one who got embarrassed and was suddenly aggressive. How is she a show off when it was you who tried a spell you didn't even know if it was going to work and failed, you are the one who asked her to show what she could do. And when she did what you asked her to do, you became angry. Are you an idiot or something?"

Neville could be seething, but he wouldn't scream, it was not in his nature. Ron spluttered trying to look for excuses but Neville was done with him. Turning back to his bed, he started his nightly routine, done with the argument, he managed to tell Weasley to leave him and Addams alone before changing to his pyjamas and closing the curtains around his bed in a clear indication to be left alone. From the outside he heard Weasley shout at him.

"Way to start out in Gryffindor, mate. You should have been sorted into Slytherin with Addams and Malfoy if you won't support your house. You and your girlfriend better stay out of my way."

He could've got up and continued the fight, but Neville had said his part and felt like, at this point, Weasley was just snapping at him out of hurt pride so he let it go. Much like a bowtruckle did once when he tried to help it climb the tree it had just fallen from, the creature tried to swipe at his hand with its sharp fingers. Luckily for him, Neville had developed quick reflexes by taking care of the chomping cabbages that he had growing at one of the Longbottom's greenhouses. In the end he was able to calm the bowtruckle down and help it back on its tree. That day taught him that some fights were not worth extending beyond the necessarily.

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When Hermione Addams left the room with a skipping, unbound, tiny, borderline creepily happy elf behind her, Millie assumed that once they were back, the elf would have settled down and would've grown a little. Of course, like everything she thought of Addams up until now, she was wrong. When they entered the room again, the elf looked impossibly more hyped, looking in adoration to their new mistress that didn't seem bothered in the slightest by the hyperactive creature. She had never seen an elf look so happy with a new master, and more shocking of it all, the elf hadn't grown one little bit.

She didn't know what it could mean. She had seen people buying a house elf, and once the elf was first bound, they would grow a few inches. But Addams' elf just stayed the exact same size as they were before being bound. Was Addams magically weaker? Maybe the girl was stricter with how much magic she would feed the elf. She wouldn't be the first, some purebloods would only feed a house elf enough to not let them die, it was a cruel practice but still in use. However, the elf was full of energy and didn't look starved at all, and Addams hadn't snapped at them at every little step and bounce, not even when the elf, without being prompt, opened their mistress' trunk and started to organise her clothes in the closet by her bed.

"Ah, that reminds me." Hermione said before Pest could move to touch the large sized chest she brought with her. The old chest would have been a beautiful black leather bound chest with all its details crafted in silver, if not for it being torn up and abused to hell and back. It looked like it had been thrown off a cliff, where it hit a mountain troll in the head that then dragged it through a rock quarry, making sure to hit every sharp rock in its path.

"Do you have a favourite colour?" She asked the elf with a serious expression.

Whatever Millie was expecting, Addams worrying about her house elf's favourite colour didn't even make the list.

The elf frowned in concentration, shutting their eyes tightly and poking their tongue out whilst humming to themselves in deep thought. Their expression cleared and they opened their big strangely violet eyes.

"Pest loves Russian Violet." They beamed at their mistress.

Millicent had never heard of anyone caring enough to wonder if a house elf had a favourite colour. She herself had never stopped to care if a house elf had something so mundane as a favourite colour. And why was the answer such a specific colour? Why was Addams just nodding as if she expected and approved of it? Her mum did warn her about the Addamses and their eccentricities that fateful day, apparently it also applied to their servants. Her mother told her that Addams were unpredictable, you could never guess what they were up to next. Millie decided that she should write to her, even if it was just to tell her that she was right.

Addams directed the elf, who apparently was now aptly named Pest, to open the roughen up chest. The chest had an ancient padlock made of cast iron with no keyhole. Millie was intrigued on how it would open, obviously the elf could use their magic, but how could Hermione open it? Both the padlock and the chest looked a bit ominous, it felt as uninviting as it looked, she herself had no urge or desire to try and pry it open, it could keep its secrets for all she cared.

Pest hesitated for a second, looked up to their mistress in a silent question and received permission to continue with a barely noticeable nod. Whatever happened when the elf touched the padlock made their large floppy ears twitch, it raised up and cocked inward in slight surprise towards the unopenable lock, like a cat hearing something only they could hear. Shortly after, the padlock opened with a clunk by itself.

Initially, Millie felt a bit embarrassed for thinking that when that lid would open, unfathomable darkness would spill forth from the box- like the Greek legend of Pandora's box-, she wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case, but slightly disappointedly nothing happened beyond the chest revealing itself being a normal storage container. That lasted only until Addams moved closer and reached into the depths of the chest, sinking inside up to her shoulders, basically diving into the trunk in search of something, obviously the chest was much deeper than its height suggested. Seconds later Hermione pulls a small purple suitcase in the exact shade of her new house elf's favourite colour with an elegant A engraved on it.

What on earth? How did Addams know about the colour?

"Mother told me that I would need this and I would know what to do with it when the time came. I do not know its contents, but mother said it was important." Addams said in a matter of fact tone that left no room for argument, she placed the suitcase on the floor in front of Pest. "I reckon she meant this for you as a welcoming gift."

With tears of joy spilling from their eyes in alarming amounts, Pest dove in the direction of the tiny suitcase like a child on Christmas morning and opened it with haste. The elf squealed when the first thing they saw inside was a small wooden box- that clearly held glass vials inside since it made a clicking sound when the box was moved-, a heavily used thick black book with the Addams' crest adorned in silver on the cover, a small collection of knives with a few daggers that fit perfectly within their hand- differently from the kitchen knife they were holding before that was too big for them to be able to hold it with only one hand-, and last but not least, several changes of clothing.

'Clothes?' Thought Millie startled. Addams just acquired the elf, what was wrong with that girl.

Pest touched the clothes reverently and looked up at Hermione in awe.

"Really? It all belongs to Pest?"

Hermione held her hands behind her back calmly.

"Yes. I believe we will have to acquire more eventually, but that will be in the future. For now, pick something so we can burn that ridiculous pillowcase you are wearing."

The last word had barely left her mouth when suddenly Pest jumped to their feet and latched themself to her waist in a hug. Pansy scoffed.

"Can't believe you are already setting that elf free. You've just got it."

Hermione arched an eyebrow at the snarky girl and deposited one of her hands on the elf's head- that was buried in her stomach- protectively.

"Who said anything about setting anyone free? Setting free implies that they are being forced to serve me. Pest is mine, they've chosen to be mine. I could give them a whole shop's worth of clothes and they would still be mine. It's what they want."

Giving clothes to Pest wouldn't make them go away? How on earth had Addams bound the elf? Purebloods all around would kill to learn how to bound an elf without the chance of freeing them. Millie was lost for words, she watched as Parkinson huffed and turned back to her own bed. Millie decided to get ready for bed as well.

She made sure to keep an eye out for Hermione and her weird hyperactive elf, she rather not be caught off guard with those two around.

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Albus Dumbledore paced the length of his office endlessly, he was starting to wear out the rug laid in front of his desk, leaving a trail of footprints throughout the carpet. Fawkes, his phoenix, had made himself dizzy following his movements with his head and decided that flying was more productive than watching the old wizard carve a path on the rug. So after the first ten minutes of pacing by his master, he launched himself from his perch and flew out through the window that was always open for his use.

A slight headache was pulsing on Albus' temple ever since he was rebuffed from Hermione Addams' mind. If he was honest with himself, he would have agreed that rebuffed was too weak of a word for what happened. "The eyes are the windows of the soul."is a popular muggle saying that unbeknownst to the muggles has its origins with the wizards that first developed the mind arts of Legilimency and Occlumency. But even though he was holding direct eye contact with the little witch, which usually granted a much easier access to one's head, he was blocked and then expelled from her mind, violently.

He was a master legilimens.

He was able to enter heavily occluded minds with the person none the wiser, not even Severus could block him- and Severus was able to block Voldemort if he so wanted- and yet…he shuddered. The echo of the pain of the girl's form of defence against mind readers was still smarting the part of his mind that he extended towards hers, it was incredibly brutal, if he was any less skilled he would have been thrown right out of his chair more forcefully than the mere flinch that hopefully nobody noticed, maybe even rendered him unconscious.

What a frightful mind to have at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore was relieved and yet apprehensive that the girl was sorted into Slytherin. On one hand, she couldn't poison young Harry's mind with whatever ideas she had and stray him from the right path whilst she sat at the house of snakes. Albus was confident that Hagrid had dutifully informed the boy of his parents Hogwarts' house and what house the man that murdered his family had come from, hopefully being sorted into Gryffindor would keep the boy away from bad influences.

On the other hand, he honestly didn't know what to do about Hermione Addams.

She sat at Slytherin table, disregarding everyone and challenging anybody to contest her chosen seat, the other first years just bowed to her will and seemed to settle around her. He couldn't even skim her thoughts. Luckily her peers were not skilled occlumens and he was able to dive into the mind of the students around her. Even with his own mind suffering from the way he had been evicted from the girl's head, he was able to go unnoticed by the other children. What he glimpsed was the apprehension and uneasiness practically overflowing from them, as if they were a herd of sheep and they were all stuck inside a pen with nowhere to run, at the mercy of a wolf passively sitting in the middle of them. With one wolf there, the sheep would never be safe, and they knew that, some more than others.

When he later asked about her to the sorting hat, he was basically scoffed at and the hat went back to its dormant state, not giving the time of the day to the headmaster.

The last person that made him feel like he should proceed with caution was young Tom Riddle and the boy went on to become a dark lord so dangerous that people were still afraid of saying his chosen name even after apparently ten years since his death.

Of course Albus knew Voldemort wasn't dead, but the prophecy stated that only young Harry Potter would be able to bring the self proclaimed dark lord down with powers he knew not; whatever powers an eleven year old boy had, certainly was something only the great Albus Dumbledore could teach him, so Albus was forced to bid his time.

He would be sure to pay attention to Hermione Addams though, Tom had given him too many problems but Albus at least could read the boy's surface thoughts when he was young. If the girl grew too dangerous, if she showed even half of what Tom had shown, he was afraid he would have to neutralise her before she became a threat.

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Pansy Parkinson was not having the first night at Hogwarts that she thought she would have. For years she dreamt of coming to Hogwarts, get sorted into Slytherin, become the leader of her class, maintaining that position throughout her seven years at the castle, probably becoming a prefect, and maybe even head girl. And yet here she was, at the bottom of the hierarchy, delegated to the bed by the bathroom door.

She couldn't believe how quickly the pedestal had been pulled out from under her. She had accepted that she would probably struggle for the leadership with the Greengrass heiress, having known for years that they would attend Hogwarts at the same time meant that she had contingency plans for that, she had a fighting chance. Even if she was to lose to Draco, she would still lead the girls.

At least, that was what she thought would happen.

Just like the rest of Slytherin house, she saw Salazar Slytherin recognise the girl as someone related to him and the girl called him great uncle and he didn't deny it. Pansy had never heard of the name Addams before and she had studied the family trees of even the purebloods who were not from the Sacred 28. Whatever disgusting hovel this girl came from, Pansy was more than ready for Addams to go back to it. The raven haired witch was arrogant, conceited, scornful and above all, no matter how the witch had managed to hoodwink Slytherin's portrait, she was a mudblood. A mudblood who dared sit on Pansy's seat and steal her bed. But the most unforgivable of all, Hermione Addams drew blood from her.

Pansy was scared of the witch.

Oh she was absolutely furious with the mudblood, she was furious and wanted her bed and seat back. She wanted the life she dreamed of, she deserved it. However, Addams moved like Pansy's mother's kneazle when it was stalking insects throughout the house. Lord Pouncival- both her mother and the kneazle itself insisted on the full title- would always play with, well not so much as play but torment, whatever insect or vermin it found before eating it in the loudest possible way. Its favourites were beetles since the crunch would never fail to make her cringe in disgust. It amused the creature immensely to watch her squirm under its stern gaze, so it always did in front of her. Never in front of her mother or anyone else and no one ever believed her when she told them. No matter where she was in the house or on the property, it would find her, always alone and vulnerable, it would stare at her as it crunched on its prey, the goo often dripping everywhere. It would always make sure to maintain eye contact as it licked the remains off of its jowls. Pansy gave an involuntary shudder as she remembered the ones with their legs sticking out of its mouth and twitching before being devoured. The mudblood was just like that stupid cat.

And she was terrified of that cat.

She thought she would finally have peace now that she was at Hogwarts, away from that awful cat. Only now; she found something far worse. Addams looked at her like she was prey when she cornered her against the bed, just like Lord Pouncival did with every insect it would trap in the corner. All of Pansy's self preservation instincts were flooding her with the urge to do something to protect herself. To flee. To fight. In the end she froze, and feeling so powerless brought tears to her eyes that she held back as much as she could.

Before she could do so much as make a plan to gain back her strength of wills, a weird hyperactive elf popped into the room and descended upon Addams with a war cry. Addams didn't even blink when she threw the elf down like a ragdoll, as if being attacked with a knife was nothing, like it was an everyday occurrence for her. The elf looked completely in awe of their proclaimed mistress and then had the audacity to threaten Pansy when she offered to be their mistress instead, since Addams was not accepting it.

And Pansy was terrified of the elf.

House elves should not be like this. Hogwarts should not be like this. She should not be like this.

When they got back from their bonding, Addams presented the elf with clothes and nothing happened besides the creature getting emotional. Addams even dared to oppose the common knowledge that clothing could dismiss an elf; it appeared that Addams' elf could not be forced to leave if the elf chose not to leave. What was eating her from the inside was the curiosity about how one binds an elf to oneself without ever setting the creature free. She knew the process of binding an elf to a person, she had a nanny elf after all. It was just a simple verbal magical contract; the wixen would, once a week, provide magic to the elf by hovering their hand over the creature and pushing their magic at them, much like one did with a wand whilst casting Lumos. In turn, the elf would serve the wixen hand and foot until the day they died or clothing was presented to them.

The elf picked a flying warthog onesie with a leopard-like tail- that moved independently, as if it was real- from the suitcase to wear. Besides the white belly, the onesie was coloured in a subtle rainbow blend spotted like a leopard with the tail having black coils around it throughout its whole length, resembling a colourful worm. The wings were tiny blue monarch wings, probably to avoid getting in the way, the hood was the head of a warthog with ears that fit perfectly over the elf's ears and as for the feet, it looked like leopard paws. Whatever abomination the apparel was supposed to look like went way over everyone's heads. Nevertheless, Pest seemed incredibly satisfied and comfortable wearing it; they cheered when the pillowcase that was the mark of house elf servitude was thrown into the fire of the furnace in the center of the room without ceremony.

After that, everybody went to bed, the torches on the walls extinguished themselves and the only source of light was the low flame coming from the furnace, giving a more haunting aspect to the room. Pansy laid on her bed waiting patiently for the moment to claim back her rightful place. She was a Parkinson; a pureblood from the Sacred 28, she would not be delegated as bathroom guard.

She got up as silently as she could, and snuck up to the head bed, ready to show the mudblood who was the boss. In the morning, Addams would be where she deserved to be, at the bottom of the food chain.

A shadow dropped from the rafters of the head bed and landed with a muffled thud at the foot of the mattress, crouching as if ready to spring up on her at the slightest provocation. In the low light, the violet eyes of the elf seemed to glow menacingly while holding one of their new daggers in hand. Images of Lord Pouncival flashed behind her eyelids.

As she was saying, she would allow Addams time to feel secured and relaxed in the leader position, once she grew complacent and her guard lowered; Pansy would snatch the role right out from under her.

Pansy slowly backed away from the head bed. Keeping her wand up, aimed at the elf, refusing to show her back to such a freak of nature, lest they decide to attack her without provocation. She glanced at Bulstrode's bed just to find the girl wide awake, sitting against the headboard with her knees held close to her chest and wand held tightly in her fist. She was watching her every movement, much like the elf perched on the end of the head bed. She knew she could take Bulstrode, she could, but she knew if she did, there would be retaliation from Addams. And she couldn't have that if she wanted her plans to work for her in the end. Since that was a bust, and she rather not mess with the Greengrass heiress. The witch set her sights on the girl sleeping peacefully on the bed behind the door; Davies.

She only took two steps towards Davies when she realised what she was doing. How low her desperation had brought her. And the consequences of what would happen if she kicked the half blood from that bed. The bed behind the door meant she would be out of the race for the leadership, it would signal that she wasn't even interested in it, that she wasn't strong enough to take it, fight for it. That was so much worse than being the bathroom guard.

A soft snore attracted her attention to the forgotten witch sleeping at the bed opposite to Bulstrode. A smirk pulled itself from the corner of Pansy Parkinson's mouth.

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Morticia sat on her peacock chair in her greenhouse, sipping tea and resting from the long journey from England. Of course, the family travelled by taking the Ashen Path. It was uncomfortable, distressing and incredibly exhausting; to those not of Addams blood. Fatal for those trying to take it without an Addams for guidance. Morticia loved it. It was her preferred method of transportation ever since Gomez showed it to her all those years ago. The warmth that almost burned at the entrance, being consumed by the fire and turning into ashes was exquisite. There really wasn't anything like it. It took all but four seconds to reach a destination but inside the path one could spend minutes, sometimes hours at a time. It was said that during times of conflict, an Addams could take refuge in it, and regroup before rejoining the fight or fleeing from danger. Morticia wasn't sure how the path worked, but it was pure Addams magic, and she was one of the very few privileged to travel through it, since her marriage into the family and the family's magic accepted her.

They had dropped Hermione on the train to Hogwarts just that morning, but they were already feeling her absence. Lurch dragged his feet and slumped his shoulders even lower than usual. Pugsley went to his room and when Morticia passed in front of his open door she saw he was at his desk studying the last mathematics book Hermione had decided she would teach him, another pile of books ranging from chemistry to physics rested on the corner of his desk. Gomez was still sniffing and shedding tears because he was missing his little blizzard but at the same time was immensely proud of her. Wednesday seemed a little lost without her twin- they did tend to more often than not, be found in the company of each other, been like that since the day they were born-. She walked aimlessly for a while surrounded by a depressed aura that didn't reflect in her expression, then decided to grab a book and mope in Hermione's room.

Fester had gone somewhere after saying goodbye to Hermione the previous day and had yet to return, he had been sulking since mid august knowing she had to go to Hogwarts. Thing was dejected that he had to stay behind to help Grandmama with some errands and couldn't see Hermione off like the rest of the family, or sneak into her luggage to go with her. Grandmama scoffed at them when she noticed their crestfallen demeanour, if Morticia noticed that the older woman's eyes became covered with a thin sheen of moisture she didn't comment on it though.

Eudora Addams was very attached to her grandchildren. Pugsley liked to try to enter her room without permission just to set off her traps onto himself; after having healed any injury or attaching any detached limbs he acquired with her traps, they would sit down to review and brainstorm the failures and what could be improved for the next time. Beyond the usual lessons the children got from their elder about magic. Wednesday, as the eldest, received lessons on fortune telling even if it wasn't really useful. Especially since in the future, her prophetic powers would be awakened once her mind was mature enough, but Grandmama thought it was hilarious teaching that kind of divination to a prospective seer that wouldn't need it. While she loved all her grandchildren viscerally, she held a special place in her black withered heart for Hermione. Eudora would always make sure to let people know that she was her favourite. The girl was gifted in potions and magic in general, and every once in a while she could be found reading Grandmama's obscure spells and potions books, no matter where she would try to hide it.

Not that she tried all too hard.

Although she'd agreed with her son that Hermione- at five years old- was a bit too young to know about the more sexual side of the rituals of hedge witches; like the types of Eroto-comatose lucidity magical rituals. And truly, she really tried to hide those kinds of books. However, the little shit somehow managed to get her sticky little fingers on it. And where Hermione went, Wednesday was not far from her. So both of them ended up reading her entire collection. They went by those highly age-inappropriate books in such a calculating clinical way that she wouldn't be surprised if their souls were much older than their bodies. It was inevitable, Grandmama supposed, especially with the way they came into this world.

Eudora spent as much time with the children as she could. She wanted to teach them all that she knew, but especially how to protect their mind and she would test them as often as possible, even in their sleep. Especially in their sleep. Pugsley had a long way to go yet, his occlumency was great for his age but he was far from being able to notice a discreet person trying to invade his mind. The twins' minds were so different from each other and yet incredibly similar at the same time. Their mindscapes would initially look simple and childish, as was their intention, with their first defence being teeth. Huge, steel like teeth but teeth nevertheless. Attack was the best defence and by the Goddess they didn't hold back. Whatever idiot tried to take a gander into those girls' minds would find themselves in big trouble. So much so that they wouldn't be able to recognise what defence was used, they would be shredded without mercy.

They had discussed how they wanted to progress with their occlumency with her; at this time, being so young, they could only have a basic defence but in the future they wanted to do more. How Eudora adored their plans for the improvement of their mindscapes, every level was well thought out and would change as they grew. Even if they hadn't created more than three levels at the present moment, she whole heartily agreed with it all and would teach them everything she knew when time comes.

Morticia shook off the cobwebs that gathered in her mind and wondered if the suitcase was already in the hands of the energetic elf she saw in a dream the week before Hermione received her Hogwarts letter. She looked forward to meeting them, if she was lucky the elf would find her daughter in her first year. By the Goddess, that girl needed someone to be by her side and watch over her. Left to her own devices, Hermione would probably be holed up in a bookshelf for weeks on end. Something like that had happened the last time they decided to go on vacation, they hadn't noticed the absence of the often silent child and her equally silent twin in the caravan, as usually both would be hidden behind a book like many times before. When they realised the absence of the girls, they immediately turned around and headed straight home, only to find Hermione and Wednesday with bloodshot eyes with deep dark circles around them, covered in dust and with the hem of the clothes half eaten by moths. Wednesday -as the eldest- took the responsibility of feeding her sister since Hermione would forget to eat during her unrestrained binge reading. In the end, Hermione was none the wiser of how long they had been gone, and thought that they had finally come to fetch her from the library so their vacation could commence. The family didn't have the heart to tell her that she had missed the first week and a half.

A dark fog materialised itself onto the table by Morticia's side and from it, an amalgamation of crow and raven emerged. Shadow crows were a rare magical species of corvid that weren't commonly seen anymore, even amidst fully outcast's communities. The bird, from afar, was easily confused with its non magical counterparts and thus usually ignored by those who didn't much cared about birds, and those who cared, would soon have their attention pulled elsewhere as if the magic of the creature prevented people from seeking it for too long, as a defence mechanism. Shadow crows' sizes tended to surpass mundane crows but still manage to be smaller than ravens, making them extremely agile and able to soar for long periods of time. Its plumage was also an interesting mix between crows and ravens, with the feathers on the top of its body a sheen black that sometimes reflected blues, purples and greens, and its underbelly was a matte black that absorbed light instead of reflecting like the feathers on its back. Those feather qualities made it a formidable nocturnal hunter, immune to poisons too, so even if what they caught was venomous or poisonous it wouldn't make a difference, but what made the species so rare and magical was the ability to shadow step. A shadow crow could walk right into a shadow and vanish inside of it, only to emerge far away from another shadow, however when no shade was available, the bird could produce a thick dark fog, step into its shadow and disappear. Thus it was impossible to capture a shadow crow if they didn't want to be captured, for they could simply shadow step and escape.

The shadow crow that decided to be Hermione's familiar was called Eris. Eris' egg was found by Hermione and Wednesday during a camping trip with Gomez whilst Morticia had stayed at home with a 7 month old Pugsley. Despite being interested in the ominous black egg that seemed to absorb all the light from around it, Wednesday said it belonged to Winter since the egg would chirp at the curly haired girl. Furthermore, Wednesday was more enamoured with arachnids- her spider Homer and her scorpion Nero being her main obsessions- than with birds. Hermione took care of the egg and shared her magic with it from the moment she got it until the day it hatched. Differently from the other corvids who could only mimic a few words, since Eris was connected directly to Hermione's magic as her familiar, she could actually hold intelligent conversations. Not that she would, Eris wasn't much interested in talking with anyone but Hermione and sometimes Wednesday, very rarely she would bother to say anything to others. When she talked with Hermione she didn't need to force herself to use human speech, not with Hermione having a direct connection through their bond.

Eris absorbed the dark fog back into her body and hopped closer to Morticia holding an envelope in her beak.

"Mail! Mail!" She squawked.

"Hello, Eris darling. What have you got for me?" Morticia deposited her cup of herbal tea with a liberal touch of hemlock on the table gently and took the letter from the bird, recognising the elegant swirls of Hermione's handwriting on the 'Mother'slanting backwards,- typical of left handed writing- written on the front of the envelope. She also noticed that there was something in addition to the letter inside the envelope. Eris flew out of the greenhouse in search of Lurch with the intention of nagging the butler to be given some eggs whilst Morticia opened the letter eagerly, already missing her daughter despite being away from her for less than 12 hours.

"Dear mother.

As you may have already Seen, I am currently writing from my desk in the dorm's of Slytherin. Despite us both knowing where I would end up being sorted, I appreciate that you've kept it to yourself.

My journey aboard the Hogwarts Express started peacefully, however Neville Longbottom was determined to follow me. By interrogating him, I've figured that it was not his intention to stalk me, which was a relief as he is not a very competent stalker. I will have to work on that, he will be an interesting ally. Through him, I have received information about the current political state of wizarding Britain that I couldn't learn from those so called rags they pass off as a newspaper. I shall endeavour to take him under my wing as an apprentice, if he proves himself worthy enough. Hopefully he can learn how not to have every single thought that crosses his mind plainly written on his face, it is most baffling I assure you. Though I confess, it makes it incredibly easier for me to know his true intentions.

Longbottom was recruited to explore the train with me under the pretext of 'searching' for his ever adventurous toad. I have interacted with what I believe, the majority of the student population and had the opportunity to memorise their faces and names alongside the initial measure of their characters. I've met many interesting people and may have ingratiated myself with many of the students.

Harry Potter being one of these students.

He seemed barely aware of the weight his name carries, but sensitive enough to be wary to tell people. I did him a favour and warned him of the books that used his name with the purpose of selling more lies. Although overwhelmed I reckon he'll follow my advice.

Hogwarts is breathtaking. We took boats to cross the Black Lake. I felt her welcoming me the moment I crossed the ward line. She told me that she will do her best to guide me during the years I'll be with her.

I've met Mx. Cuthbert, that would be the sorting hat, we've talked briefly. Cuthbert is magnificent, Mother. The magic woven into the fabric of its very being is nothing short of a masterpiece. Cuthbert said that I was just like Papá. I have the impression that he also chatted with the hat. It made me feel somewhat proud of being compared to him.

The Slytherin house is much like its house traits. Prideful, ambitious, and cunning. And it made them arrogant. Even their sitting arrangements at the table are full of pointless hierarchy and misguided self importance. I've launched my campaign of dismantling this dimwitted way of thinking, especially about the bigoted ideology of considering themselves superior for being so-called 'purebloods'. This school didn't get built to be a breeding ground of privilege and hatred, and yet that is what it became of the once great Slytherin house.

Most of my classmates from Slytherin have a perpetual sneer on their faces when looking at me, and yet they avoid my gaze when I turn towards them and look them in the eyes. I even got a Malfoy in my year, doing his very best to win a verbal spar with me. He seems oblivious to the history between our families. I wonder when he will be enlightened about it and how it will affect his attitude. In my opinion, he needs a reality check, I'm not opposed to being the catalyst for it.

The Headmaster seemed a bit too interested in his students. He counts on everybody being ignorant to occlumency as he brushes against people's minds. I've attracted his attention with my sorting, and when he tried to read my mind he was unsuccessful. My first defences made him retreat with haste, the coward used only a small part of his mind but I reckon it was enough to give him a headache as punishment for being pretentious.

My Head of house is the youngest Master of Potions in centuries, Severus Snape. He informed us that a medical check will be performed by the Matron, Madam Pomfrey. Please, send the medical book on Addams with Eris, I would rather not be carted to the infirmary to be experimented on; for now. You see, Hogwarts is surrounded by a forbidden dark forest, which I am eager to explore. Beyond that, this year we received a very foreboding warning about a forbidden corridor 'for all of those who do not wish for a painful death'. I'm excited to investigate what lies beyond it.

I've also had the great privilege to meet Great Uncle Salazar and Uncle Altair. Great Uncle Salazar thought it would be hilarious to drag me under the spotlight and bring more attention to myself than I initially desired. Despite it helping establish that I should not be taken lightly, one cannot willfully ignore when one is being pranked. In the envelope you will find Salazar Slytherin's favourite portrait's ornament from his frame, he kept glancing at it and his right hand had a habit of reaching in its direction. I found it very fitting that the eyes are in our house colours. Enjoy your present, Mother, I'm sure it will be sorely missed.

Love,

Hermione Addams.

P.S.: Tell father to stop crying, I won't be away for long and will be back for the holidays.

P.S.S.: Tell Willow that I'm white and I open with Pawn to D4."

Morticia turned the envelope upside down and sure enough a silver snake with purple gems for eyes dropped onto her palm. She couldn't help the smile that decorated her face, her darling Winter Storm was already causing chaos. Morticia was so proud.

~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~

Hermione saw a group of people walking up a verdant hill, the sky was blue and the sun shined without a cloud in sight. A tall red headed man with the start of a wild growth of a beard wearing a deep maroon red cloak walked ahead excitedly, turning around ever so often to hurry up the rest of the group. Two women walking right behind him- one wearing a gold web yellow cloak and the other wearing an azure cloak- often would tell him to slow down and he would smirk and smartly reply that they were too slow. The brunette with the yellow cloak would sigh and share an unamused look with the raven haired woman in the blue cloak.

A black haired young man, wearing a dark green cloak- like that of his peers, walking ahead, looked like he was in his early twenties-, walked side by side with an older man with long white hair that matched his long white beard- although the top of his head was starting to thin and turn bald-, wearing a black cloak that frayed at the hem.

Even without ever interacting with him, Hermione knew that he was an Addams. It was impossible for an Addams to not recognise family, regardless of whatever disguise one could be wearing. The man was in his late sixties and yet still had a spring to his step as he blabbered excitedly with an easy smile to the quiet young man by his side, occasionally making the younger man throw his head back and roar out in laughter, the Addams' enthusiasm was rivalled only by the man leading their trek uphill.

At the back of the group, calmly walking arm in arm with a lighter complexioned version of what Blaise Zabini would probably look in his fifties, was a brunette also in her sixties. Much like the Addams walking ahead, she was wearing a black cloak as was the man accompanying her. Just by the way the older Addams looked adoringly back at her to have whole conversations with one glance, it was obvious that they were married.

The red head reached the crest of the hill, looked down and smiled in awe. Looking back at his companions he urged everybody to hurry up and ran down the hill, being followed by the young women and the other man with Zabini right at their heels. The Addams slowed down to walk with his wife and Hermione, who had been by her side the entire time. She arrived at the top of the hill with the Addams couple.

Looking down, Hermione saw an expansive empty valley where Hogwarts and Hogsmead would be built in the future. It had nothing but the Black Lake and the surrounding Dark Forest for now. The Addams' wife turned to Hermione, smiling fondly at her.

"Welcome, Darkling."

The couple started their trek downhill in the direction of the rest of their friends that were waiting for them.

Hermione opened her eyes and stared at the rafters of her bed. She stayed as still as a cadaver in a coffin, she wasn't the type to move not even one muscle in her sleep, her hands clasped together over her stomach. She couldn't pretend she wasn't surprised for being acknowledged in the memory-dream. Hogwarts seemed to be really excited about her arrival, the castle was already bleeding memories into her mind even though she had yet to turn 12 years old. She assumed one of her ancestors within the castle would be her guide and teacher when the time came, but she didn't anticipate the castle itself being so eager to the point of reaching for her in the first night.

An arm covered in a colourful sleeve dangling from the rafters of her bed- where a makeshift hammock was built- snapped her out of her thoughts. Hermione wasn't surprised that Pest wouldn't go far from her, especially with their bond so fresh. It didn't bother her that the elf was sleeping right above her, she was used to waking up with Thing snoozing by her side when he wasn't sleeping with Wednesday or Pugsley. At least elves didn't tend to roll in their sleep, and if Pest did end up falling on her during the night it would teach her to be more alert.

She spent a few more minutes in bed, meditating and working on her occlumency shields before ultimately deciding to get ready for the day. The first thing she noticed was the bed arrangement of her dormmates. Hermione had woken up briefly when Parkinson tried to approach her bed, but Pest was guarding her and she didn't see the need to act and went back to sleep.

Bulstrode had fallen asleep sitting against her headboard, Greengrass and Bulstrode were the only ones beyond herself that kept their original beds. Parkinson took Caddick's bed, opposite to Bulstrode; Caddick kicked Davies from her spot behind the door and appropriated the bed for herself; Davies now rested by the bathroom door's bed.

Although the bed was a good eight feet from the door, the reason for having the bathroom inside the room was clear, the pariah of the hierarchy was the one to sleep by that door. It was clever, it raised the competitiveness amongst the group forcing them to push each other to be better than their peers therefore raising the Slytherin's value exponentially.

For now, she would take a shower and get ready for the day, she was already awake after all.

~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~0~~~

Blaise sat on an armchair, staring intently at the girl's staircase, waiting for Addams to emerge. He'd been sitting there since the crack of dawn. He had been woken up by dreams he wasn't completely sure were only dreams.

He didn't remember ever having dreams like that. He could still feel the taste of the smoke in the back of his throat and he wondered what it meant.

His dream began with him in a dark forest, the waning gibbous moon as the only source of light; until a loud explosion echoed somewhere beyond him and the forest was bathed in orange light. When he turned around he was greeted with the staggering sight of a manor up in flames. The wind blew in his direction, carrying the smoke towards him and he couldn't hold the cough that forced itself out of him despite knowing it was only a dream. The sound of someone panting while running in his direction startled him, in the blink of an eye a girl with tawny skin shot past him, she wasn't much older than him. She was dressed in a white wedding dress that was splatter with dark red. Before he could react, his body followed next to the girl as she ran, trailing after her regardless if he wanted to or not.

Reaching a clearing, she abruptly stopped when she tripped on a tree root that was sticking out of the ground, only then Blaise could notice that she was crying, she curled up on the forest floor without trying to get back up to continue her escape. Loud masculine voices echoed from the same direction she had come from, multiple glows of Lumos cutting the darkness, however none of the voices sounded friendly. The girl looked up and her eyes widened prompting him to turn around and check what surprised her. There, leaning against a tree not far from them, was a man hidden in the shadows, dressed all in black with a cigar dangling from his mouth, when the man took a long drag- lighting up the cigar's end- there was only light enough for Blaise to see his deep dark black eyes.

Blaise woke up with a gasp and couldn't go back to sleep nor could he make sense of his dream. So he got up and eventually ended up sitting in the common room waiting, lost in thought.

"Whatever troubles you so early in the morning that you are loitering in the common room at this hour, young master Zabini?"

Blaise diverted his eyes from the girl's staircase to see the ghost of Altair Addams, the Bloody Baron, floating idly between him and the portrait of Salazar Slytherin on the far wall. He doubted that the ghost could help him but it didn't hurt to try.

"I…" Then he realised what he had been called. "How do you know who I am?"

"Why, you are the spitting image of my old transfiguration professor. Octavius Matteo Zabini was his name, he served Salazar's master." The ghost chuckled.

"Professor Slytherin's master? Who was that?"

"Grumple Astaroth Addams, he is the funniest man I've ever met." He had a nostalgic expression and a playful smirk pulling itself in the corner of his lips.

"Professor Slytherin's master was an Addams?" Blaise gasped.

"Indeed."

At that moment Hermione appeared climbing up the top of the girl's staircase, as if summoned by the name of her family being spoken. Their conversation cut short as their attention was turned towards her. Blaise immediately jumped to his feet and bowed respectfully to her.

"Good morning, Miss Addams."

He cringed internally, usually he was way smoother than that. Altair looked at Hermione with amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Good morning, Darkling."

Hermione raised one eyebrow at the boy but nodded at the ghost.

"ADDAMS!"

Salazar Slytherin shouted from his portrait, making Blaise jump. The man in the painting was leaning forwards as if trying to cross into the realm of the living by sheer force of will with the sole purpose of getting his hands around someone's neck, by the fury showing on his face, that someone's neck would be Hermione's. The witch strolled towards the portrait calmly.

"You ranged, Great Uncle Salazar?"

"GIVE BACK MY SNAKE."

Hermione clasped her hands behind her back and had a serene smile on her face. Her voice was soft, silky and as sweet as honey, as if butter wouldn't melt in her mouth. She looked up at him with big innocent doe eyes.

"Whatever do you mean, Great Uncle? I know nothing about no snake of yours."

"YES, YOU DO, YOU LITTLE SHIT!"

Blaise watched wide eyed as the portrait yelled at the witch and she just stood there with mirth shining in her eyes whilst holding a serene expression as if she was admiring a garden during a sunny summer day. Lord Altair had a hand over his mouth trying to hide his laughter but his shoulders shaking betrayed him. Not like covering his face held any use, as his hands were transparent and his smile could be seen straight through.

"I KNOW YOU TOOK IT! GIVE IT BACK!"

"Prove it."

"What?"

"If I took it, as you're saying, how did I take it?"

Salazar opened his mouth and paused. Blaise heard Lord Altair counting '3…2…1…aaaand' lowly, right on cue Salazar Slytherin pouted and looked to the side, he grumbled something.

"I beg your pardon?" Questioned Addams, one of her eyebrows raised as she expected an answer.

"I said I don't know. But I know it was you!" He snapped, but then exhaled and his shoulders dropped in defeat.

"Good morning, Great Uncle Salazar." She calmly spoke as if Salazar Slytherin exploding on her wasn't the most terrifying thing Blaise had ever witnessed; and the man was just a painting.

"Good morning, Darkling." He sighed in a dejected tone.

The emotional whiplash the interaction had given Blaise left him wordless, he turned slightly dazed towards the ghost still snickering by his side.

"Huh…What just happened?"

"She gained his respect."

"How?"

"Well, she stole from him, right under his ever watchful never-miss-anything eyes, and got away with it. He knows it was her, but can't prove it. Third rule of Slytherin?"

"Don't get caught." Blaise whispered in awe.

"Just so." Lord Altair winked at him.

'That's the Addams I received The Call for.' He thought to himself whilst watching Lord Addams floating smoothly towards his niece and his old professor turned friend so he could tease the pouting painting. Blaise's shoulders straightened even tighter and his chest filled up with pride. 'I'm going to serve her for the rest of my life, this I swear'. He just couldn't wait.

Notes:

Oooo, the castle is reaching to Hermione.

Blaise is so dang adorable.

And speaking of adorable, Pest is so freaking cute with their onesie, I just can't, I want one right now. lol

Pansy plotting her whole life just for Hermione to arrive and destroy it all like it's nobody's business.

I think Albus is starting to regret being a snooper.

I just can't with Salazar screaming his head off at Hermione and she is just there, serene. "This is fine" meme in person lol.

I hope to see y'all soon, and I hope y'all had fun, I know I did.

See you next chapter, my dear Darklings.