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𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙏𝙬𝙤: 𝙊𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙡𝙞𝙖 𝙁𝙧𝙪𝙢𝙥

Harry had everything packed and ready for his trip to England. He checked and double-checked his trunk to make sure he had everything, and placed his travelers’ ID he received from MACUSA in his suit jacket he was to wear tomorrow.

Everything was in order. He had a port key scheduled for 10:30 AM, and was to meet his dear Aunt Ophelia at the British Ministry of Magic. Then after that, together they would go get his supplies for his first year at Hogwarts. Apparently, Aunt Ophelia was excited to see her nephew again and reassured Harry that her eldest daughter was in her second year at Hogwarts, so he wouldn’t be alone.

It amused Harry to no end that his mother’s twin was so different, though she looked the same. They were two sides of the same coin.

“Harry?”

Wednesday stood in the doorway of his room, clutching her doll. He looked at his sister with his cold green eyes and patted the space on the bed next to him. She scrambled in and sat down. Wednesday’s hair was loose and in waves and she wore her long black nightgown. She looked up at Harry and he noticed that his little sister’s eyes were red and tears flowed down her corpse-like cheeks.

“What’s wrong, little spider?” asked Harry. He gave her a concerned look and watched as her bottom lip quivered. “I don’t want you to go,” she whispered. Harry brought his arms around her and held her close as she sobbed into his shoulder. “I-I don-don’t want you to-to go,” she hiccupped. This was the first time Harry had seen her cry and let out so many emotions. His usual level-headed sister, who thought emotions were a weakness and tried her best to remain as cold and distant as possible — broke in front of him.

“Oh Wednesday,” He rocked her back and forth, trying to provide comfort to his beloved sister. “I wish I could stay. I wish I could stay here and play headless dollhouse and show you all the ways to psychologically torture someone. But I can’t,” she looked up, sniffling. “Why not?”

“Because,” he sighed. “Because I need to practice and perfect my magic skills. I also wish to see the school that Mother attended when she was a girl,” he explained. Wednesday nodded her head, sadly. “One day you’ll understand that some decisions have to be your own and you must choose your own path.” Harry kissed the top of her head.

“But you’ll be home for Yule, right?” she asked, hope in her eyes. He nodded his head. “Of course, little spider. How could I miss out on Grandmama’s Chocolate death and Mother’s Yule cake?” She laughed as he tickled her, making her smile of death appear on her face.  “You promise to write to me and tell me all your adventures?”  “I promise.” Wednesday flicked Harry on the nose and scrambled off his bed.

“Night, Harry,” she bid. “Night Wednesday. I hope you’ll have pleasant nightmares.” She gave him a smirk and returned it with his own. He surely was going to miss his little sister and her antics.

•••★•••

Harry waited patiently for his aunt to show up. The office of the Department of Magical Transportation was spacious, yet it felt suffocating. The two Aurors were stiff and didn’t engage in small talk — which Harry was grateful for—and stood in silence. He didn’t mind the stiff nature of the Aurors, but he did mind when their eyes kept flip-flopping between staring at him or the door.

Every time their eyes landed on him, he knew they were staring at the scars that marred his forehead and ran down his left brow and down his cheek. It was something he’d always had as a child, this scar, and he wasn’t at the slightest self-conscious about it. He was used to no-magic staring at him and his scar, always wondering what happened to him and always thinking it happened because his family was the Addames.

Harry didn’t care what they thought in their small minds, but these “Aurors” kept staring at it like it meant something to them. As if they wished they had the scar on their face. It made him want to deploy a smoke bomb and slip out and wait for his aunt at the Atrium in this Ministry.

Finally, after throwing glares at the Aurors, the door opened and an exact replica of his mother walked in. However, she wasn’t wearing her long black dress, or had sharp dipped red nails, or even blood-red lips. No. She was wearing a yellow sundress with white polka dots littering the fabric. Her hair was black but was up in an elegant twist on her head, and she wore white pumps on her feet. Behind her was a young girl with the same black hair as Harry’s own sister, but instead of wearing a scowl, she wore a small smile and wore a light green skirt with a white oxford button-down short-sleeve and had black mary-janes on her feet.

Aunt Ophelia’s eyes were bright, making her black eyes seem like a dark brown, and she smiled prettily at the Aurors and Harry.

“Beloved nephew!!” She pulled Harry into a hug and his body immediately stiffened up. He didn’t like hugs unless he was the one to initiate them. In fact, he didn’t really like to be touched and would rather prefer to keep a distance. Aunt Ophelia pulled back and patted his face, smiling at him. “How good it is to see you! You’ve grown!” Her eyes traveled down the length of his body, inspecting his growth. He was tall for his age, he’s been told that many times. But he was also very lanky.

“Aunt,” he greeted, after realizing his aunt was waiting for him to greet her. She smiled even wider — if that was even possible — before turning to speak with the Aurors. The young girl behind his aunt gave him a shy smile and wave.

“Hello, I’m Beatrice, your cousin.'' She had a quiet demeanor and Harry liked that. Perhaps she would be the tolerable one in his aunt’s children. “I’m Harry,” he said, quickly and quietly.  “I know. I think everyone knows who you are.” Harry gave her an odd look. “What do you mean by that?”

“Well,” she blushed, her fingers started trembling, and she started making weird patterns on her skirt. “What I mean is that, your scar. Everyone knows who you are because of your scar.” She pointed her index finger at his forehead.

Harry was still confused but was saved by his aunt before he asked his cousin another question.

“Come darlings, let’s get going. We have to shop for both yours and Beatrice's Hogwarts supplies.” Harry shook his head. “What about my trunks?” He asked, pointing to the trunks piled up. Ophelia smiled at him and chuckled.

“Oh, don’t worry about it. I’ve scheduled a few Aurors to take your trunks to my place. I’ve also asked them to place some more protective charms around the property and house. That way, we won’t have any paparazzi or wizards trying to break in and see you, my famous nephew.”

Harry tried to speak, but was interrupted by Ophelia once more. “Now, come along. We must get going if we’re to beat the noon rush. I’d really hate to get stuck in Madam Malkins for hours. That place is terribly dull.”

She ushered her nephew and daughter out of the office and they made their way to the lift/elevator and she pressed a button before a lady spoke in the overhead and they were off.

~~~~

Next Chapter

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙮 𝘼𝙙𝙙𝙖𝙢𝙨

"Three, two, one,"

The sound of the mailman's scream reached Harry's ear. The black-haired boy smirked in delight, as he and his two laughing siblings stuck their heads through the bushes of their home, watching as the mailman ran, screaming and waving his hands in the air, as a spider climbed down the mailbox and into his little sister's awning hands.

"Good job, Homer, you managed to scare that man out of his wits," commented Harry as he stood up from the ground, Wednesday and Pugsley following. "How did you know he was afraid of spiders, Harry?" questioned Pugsley as he looked up at his older brother, admiration and wonder in his piercing blue eyes. "Yes, how did you know, Harry?" Wednesday asked in a skeptical tone. Her eyebrows rose in question, as her noose braids (braids he helped her do early this morning before elementary school started) swayed as they walked back to the house.

Harry smirked at his siblings. "Simple. I gave him a ring last week and pretended to be a person from a cruise company, saying he won a free cruise to the Caribbean. I asked him a bunch of questions, where he was from, his favorite color, before asking what he was most afraid of. To which he answered, saying: "Spiders, I hate spiders". Before I hung up on him."

Wednesday gave a smirk of her own. She loved her older brother and his schemes. He was very good at plotting a plan and hatching it. Of course, their mother and father taught him from a very young age.

"How thrilling, who shall we prey on next, dear brother?" she asked. Harry gave her an amused look. "I was thinking, Mr. Tully, he should be easy. Knowing that he's a coward would make my job easier." mused Harry, before they walked up the stairs of their home and opened the door. The three Addamses strode into their home, their dirty shoes creating stains and footprints on the plush carpet in the entryway, right by the winding staircase.

"Children!" said a silky voice coming from the top of the stairs. Standing there in a tight-fitting black dress was their mother. Morticia Addams. Her long glossy hair was in waves, and her arms were crossed over her chest. Her blood-red nails tapped against her arm as she arched a brow at her children. "Have you seen your father? He was supposed to be back by now." Harry turned his head to look at his siblings before shaking his head.

"I'm sorry, mother. We have not. We'll let you know when we see him." Harry gave her a nod before trailing off to the kitchens, where he knew his grandmother would be cooking some delicious dinner. Wednesday and Pugsley tried to follow, but their mother called their names, making them stop. Harry didn't stick around to hear what his mother wanted from his siblings and continued walking towards the kitchens - passing portraits as he went.

There were many portraits of his family. A lot of them were portraits of his siblings, with a few of his entire family—father, mother, sister, brother, and grandmother,—and a couple of just his parents; who were usually in a passionate embrace; and a few of his distant relations.

Of course, there was a portrait of his mother and him. It was his favorite. His mother and Harry were sitting in the cemetery, his mother wearing her long black dress and her blood-red lips were pulled into a smirk. Morticia had her hand resting on a toddler, Harry. His unruly black hair was as long and curly as ever, and her nails were running through the locks. He wore black shorts and a white button-up shirt with black suspenders, and in his hands was a butcher knife he stole from the kitchens earlier that day. His pale skin looked sickly and his green eyes were narrowed in concentration with his round glasses perched on the tip of his nose, and a sneer was curled at his lips. The portrait was perfect for Harry, and it made his stomach tingle with a feeling he didn't understand.

After admiring the portrait, he made a mental note to tell Lurch to dust this portrait corridor and make sure this particular portrait was extra dusty. He sighed and ran his hands through his black curls before counting his journey to the kitchens. The closer he got, the better he could hear his grandmother screeching the lullaby song she always sang while cooking. His Grandmother's voice could send a man to an early grave, and the thought of it made Harry shiver in pleasure.

He pushed the doors open and smirked at his grandmother. Her hair was fizzy and in a matted mess, and she wore an apron with blood and rips, and in the pockets of her apron were bits and pieces of body parts and herbs. He could smell witch hazel and herbs brewing in the many pots and cauldrons, and on the walls were recipes and potion recipes tacked up. Dried herbs were hanging from the ceiling and the walls, and glass vials and bottles were stocked everywhere.

"Hello Grandmother," said Harry in a bored voice. Grandmama looked over her shoulder to see her oldest grandson striding into the kitchen. She smirked and clapped her hands together. "Ah! Harry! Come, come! It's time for our lessons." an eager spark was in her eyes as she brushed her white hair back. "Today I'm going to show the art of poison, something that every child your age should have perfected. Tell me, did you read that book I gave you?"

Harry smirked in response. "Of course I did." He laced his hands together and bent them back, cracking them. He was buzzing in anticipation of the prospect of poisoning someone. He knew the basics, but he wanted to learn how to become immune to the poisons and how to get away with murder by only giving the victim small doses at a time.

Poisoning is a natural art for the Addamses. And even though he wasn't born an Addams, he's still an Addams in name and because he grew up in this family of eccentrics and "weirdos". Maybe he could even poison Bradly Chiles — an annoying boy from his elementary class. He was pretty, blonde, with perfect blue eyes, and a dick. He was a bully and hated Harry. Although, he never tries anything with Harry. Not since the third day of school. Not since Harry embarrassed Bradly so badly, he pissed himself in front of the entire 4th grade. Yes, that was a delightful day. The memory made Henry smirk to himself before he shook himself awake and took in the information his grandmother was giving him.

For the next two hours, Harry and Grandmama were in the kitchen, cutting herbs and roots, brewing poisons, and learning how to cut a mandrake root the proper way. It wasn't until the shrill scream of the alarm in the kitchen did they stop.

"Oh! That's dinner." Grandmama shuffled over to the oven. "We'll continue this lesson tomorrow, Harry." Harry nodded his head. "Okay. I'll go let Pugsley and Wednesday know that dinner is ready." He strode out of the kitchen and passed the portraits and heard his family before he saw them. Wednesday and Pugsley were screaming at each other, trying to see who had the most terrifying scream, and his parents were dancing to Lurch playing the harpsichord. His parents—as always—sported loving expressions on their faces as they waltz, his mother's head leaning against his father's shoulders.

Harry's face muscles twitched at the sight before clearing his throat.

"Dinner is ready," Gomez stops and turns his head towards Harry, a smirk on his face. "Ah! Harry my boy!" He and Morticia glide over to Harry. Wednesday and Pugsley followed their parents close behind. "Grandmama has demanded that it's dinnertime," he explained.

"Oh, Grandmama, what would we do without her repulsive dinners and demands?" cooed Morticia as the family of five wandered down to the dining room.

•••★•••

It was a horrible Saturday morning. The blasted sun was out, and the birds were chirping, and children were riding their bikes outside. When Harry woke up this morning, he recoiled in disgust at the sight of the sun's rays streaming into his black and bleak room. Poor Wednesday had screamed in terror at the sight.

He sighed and rolled off his bed, donning his black shorts and black-and-white striped shirt, and pulled on his socks and combat boots before striding down the stairs. Lurch was currently dusting the house and as he passed, Harry dragged his index finger across the railing of the winding staircase and saw it covered in dust. He smirked.

"Thank you Lurch," Lurch groaned in response and watched as Harry walked down the stairs with all the grace he learned from his mother, and the confidence he learned from his father. He watched as Pugsley ran around the house from Wednesday, clutching the headless doll she slept with.

"Come back here, you big lump!!" she shouted as Pugsley laughed. Harry's heart softened at the sight.

The doors opened from Gomez's office and Harry watched as Tully slumped away, keeping his briefcase close to his chest. Harry noticed immediately that Tully's suit was ripped in a few places, most likely because of his father beating him once again at their duel. Of course, that's what Harry expected. Gomez Addams has years of Mazurka training and Addams blood running through his veins. He's a natural swordsman.

Tully ignored all the chaos around him and walked out of the Addames home. He didn't even realize that the pet lion; Kitty walked past him and into the home. Purring in contempt. Once the doors slammed shut, Harry smiled and placed his hand on Kitty's head.

"Hello Kitty, pleasant sleep?" the lion purred in response as Harry's pale, long, and spider-like fingers threaded through his mane.

"Harry!! Tell Pugsley to give me back my doll!!"

Harry let his eyes land on his 9-year-old sister. Her black hair was in braids and her eyes were filled with anger and mischief. He knew, once this was all over, Wednesday would play a dangerous prank or use Pugsley as a guinea pig for one of her newest torture devices she received from her subscription: "Torturous Tortue". His mother had insisted she'd get a membership for her 9th birthday.

"Pugsley, why on earth did you outright steal her doll?" scolded Harry. His eyes filled with disappointment. "Haven't I taught better than this? You don't steal the doll, you do something to the doll. Fill it with confetti, or worse, pink glitter." Pugsley looked down in shame.

"Now, Pugsley, give Wednesday her doll back," Pugsley sighed and gave the doll back to Wednesday before he slithered off into the manor. Wednesday smirked before walking off in the opposite direction, a gleam of mischief in her eyes.

Harry smirked and walked towards the dining room where Lurch was preparing breakfast while his mother sat next to his father's chair, opening up letters and muttering to herself.

"Good morning, Mother," greeted Harry. Morticia looked up and gave her eldest a loving smile.

"Good morning Harry, how was your sleep?" Harry kissed his mother's cheek before sitting down next to her. "Oh, it was horrible, filled with night terrors and darkness."

"Wonderful!" she chimed in. Lurch handed Harry a plate full of slop from his Grandmother's brew and he rubbed his hands in glee. His grandmother was the perfect cook.

As he ate his food, Morticia gasped at the sight of a letter. He looked up, his brows furrowing in confusion and curiosity. His mother hastily looked over the letter, reading the address and recognizing her old teacher's handwriting. She smiled softly before looking up at her son.

"Harry, darling, you are aware that we adopted you," started Morticia, as she placed the letter down on the table. Harry stopped eating and nodded his head. His parents never once kept the truth from him, that he was adopted and a mass murderer killed his biological parents.

"Well, my little snake, you have been invited by the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry to attend their school." Harry looked down at his ringless fingers. "Is that the same school you attended, Mother?" Morticia nodded. "Yes, I had a lovely time there." She sighed happily.

"The school is in England and we would have to schedule a port key to take you there, and I would have to write to my sister to meet you and house you for a couple of weeks before term starts, and you'll have to do you shopping there as well." Gomez walked into the dining room and sat down next to his wife, kissing her cheek.

"But, I think you'll be able to go if you wish," Gomez looked up at his wife, confusion laced in his eyes. "Go where Cara Mia?" Morticia smiled and looked at her husband. "Oh my dear, Harry has been invited to attend Hogwarts, and I was just explaining to him what we'd have to do to ensure he goes." Gomez looked at his son with pride. "Oh, that's wonderful! Yes, we shall have to make all the arrangements."

"What if I refused?" said Harry, making his parents look at him in shock. "What do you mean, son?" asked Gomez, his brows shot up into his hair. "What if I do not wish to attend Hogwarts?" he repeated, his voice trembling. Morticia caught his tremble and smiled sadly at her boy.

"Oh Harry, this decision is not up to your father or myself. This is yours. You must decide, and whatever your decision is, we shall support you. No matter what." She reached across the table and held his hand in hers, rubbing her thumb on his pale skin. Harry gave his mother a rare smile and nodded his head.

"I wish to go, Mother, Father,"

Next Chapter

𝙈𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙞𝙖 |𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙚 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧|

𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐢𝐚 𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧: 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐣𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟, 𝐨𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞

This is the story of Y/n Sirius Potter, the twin brother of Harry James Potter, and his journey of finding himself and discovering his purpose in life and becoming part of something bigger than he'd ever imagined, oh and he also might find love with a blond boy called Draco Malfoy.

𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐡𝐨 𝐋𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐝

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐎𝐧𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐧𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐆𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐰𝐨: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐍𝐨 𝐎𝐧𝐞

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐊𝐞𝐲𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐃𝐢𝐚𝐠𝐨𝐧 𝐀𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐲

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐢𝐯𝐞: 𝐆𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐬

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐢𝐱:𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝟗¾

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧: 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐒𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐭

Moodboards

Inspo

Song Recs/Playlist

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐆𝐨𝐝 & 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐌𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐚𝐥

𝙂𝙧𝙚𝙚𝙠 𝙈𝙮𝙩𝙝𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙜𝙮 𝘿𝙧𝙖𝙘𝙤 𝙈𝙖𝙡𝙛𝙤𝙮 𝙭 𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Chapters

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙊𝙣𝙚

HP Series

Harry Addams (x reader)

The God & The Mortal (god!d.m x mortal!reader)

Metanoia (d.m x male potter reader)

𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘐 𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘍𝘰𝘳

Harry Potter Characters

A Song Of Ice & Fire/Game of Thrones Characters

Marvel Characters

Book Characters