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Harry Addams and the Philosopher’s Stone

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 𝙎𝙞𝙭: 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙚𝙘𝙝𝙡𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙙𝙨

September 1st couldn’t have come quicker, in Harry’s mind. It was a hellish month. Everyday his aunt's family would spend all day out in the sun, holy seven circles of hell. They flew on broomsticks (which Harry excelled at, of course.) and played with gobstones and their neighbours. A giant, loud, family of gingers. He remembered how his aunt had pulled him away from his reading (Poisons, Hexes to Use on Your Enemies, & Easy Curses by Bertha Nightlock) to meet the family of gingers.

"Harry, dear," A smile was bright on Ophelia's face. "These are our neighbours, the Weasley's!" She spread her arms out as if she was on a muggle gameshow Grandmama liked to watch but was always disappointed when contestants either won or didn't get mauled by a mountain lion.

"Hello there Harry!" A plump woman with red hair and a round face bustled out from her family, holding her arms out, a smile on her face. "I'm Molly Weasley, and these are my children," She pointed to a tall boy with glasses and curly red hair, he was the only one wearing a matching robe set. "This is Percy," His arms were crossed and he stood tall, unlike the others—his face was tight and his lips pursed. He looked positively dreadful. "My twins, Fred and George,"

"Hey there Potter!" The twins said in unison.

"Say do you—"

"Have that—"

"Scar?" They finished together.

Harry simply stared at them, his eyes glazing over. The twins looked exactly alike, down from their faces right down to their shoes. They both sported the same haircut, same clothes, and shoes. It was like they were carbon copies.

"And this is my youngest son, Ron, and my daughter Ginny. Ron will also be attending Hogwarts this year!" Ron was tall, taller than any 11-year-old Harry saw. But his shoulders were hunched, and his face was downcasted, his blue eyes kept flicking up and down, as if he was insecure. No, he was insecure. Harry could tell.

"So is Harry! My sister, who lives in the States with her husband, sent Harry to live with us this summer so he could get used to the magical world." Aunt Ophelia explained, her hands moving as she talked.

"Oh how wonderful! Where've you taken him, Ophelia?" Molly and her children were invited inside the house, out of the summer heat. Harry tried to creep back up the stairs but a quick glare from his aunt (that was fairly similar to his own mother's glare) stopped him.

"He's been all over the Alley, and we've taken him to Hogsmeade!”

Ah, yes, thought Harry. Memories of his timely visit to the village outside of Hogwarts was boring and uneventful. The only thing that struck Harry as interesting was an old pub by the name of Hogs Head—he hoped there was an actual event where you took the head of a hog, but alas he was entirely let down—and an abandoned “haunted” house, dubbed by the locals the “Shrieking Shack”.

Thinking about the visit made something in Harry ache. He knew Wednesday would’ve loved to investigate and look into this haunted shack and summoned devils from the depths of hades with him. A part of him wanted to go home, to be away from his too-smiley aunt and her family. His cousin’s weren’t as bad as the other children back home, but they weren’t on the same page as Harry. They did not play with headless dolls, nor did they have a subscription to “Tortures Torture”. Beatrice was the only one who actually was worth being around. She seemed to be the only one to inherit some sort of Frump genes.

After the ghastly introduction of the ginger family, Harry isolated himself back in his room, waiting for the hours to pass.

★

There were only a few moments of his dreaded summer with his aunt and her family that Harry did enjoy. For example: Aunt Ophelia was a Potions Woman and she had her own home laboratory that Harry found himself walking into one rainy day in the English country. She wore a white lab coat and black gloves that went up to her elbows. At the sound of Harry shutting the door to her room, Ophelia turned. Her big black eyes were huge and bug-eyed under the googles she wore.

“Harry! Come in!” A smile spread across her face before she turned her attention back to her plants and concoctions. Harry slumped in, the shadows warming his skin in the dark and dank room. He took a sniff—Nightshade, ahh home.

Ophelia patted a stole she pulled out from underneath the workbench and Harry took a seat. Together, Aunt and Nephew worked as they made a simple healing draught for certain native poisons from Hungry. It was the first moment that Harry felt relaxed and realised how he could be related to this woman. How his mother and her lived in England all their young lives.

A flash of gold made him pause.

“You were in Slytherin?”

Ophelia smirked as she finished writing on her clipboard the shipping information for the crate of potions.

“Of course.” Her gloves and goggles lay off to the side, allowing her to grab the metal she received. “I won the Slytherin duelling championship, beating all the pesky inbred purebloods.” She sounded proud. Harry watched her dust off the metal, though he didn’t see why. “Tisha won for Ravenclaw, she had to sneak into Slytherin to sleep. Her housemates were playing dirty and she wasn’t allowing a single curse or “misguided” spell to keep her from that metal. When she wants something, she’ll get it. It’s why we never tried out for Qudditch, if we both made it the games would be brutal for both the teams and the rest of Hogwarts.” She smiled and chuckled here and there. “It was better for everyone if the Frump Sisters weren’t against each other, but on the same side.”

Ophelia placed the metal back on the wall that Harry realised were moving photographs of what looked like his mother and aunt in their Hogwarts uniform. The only reason why he could tell who was who, was the colours of their robes. Aunt Ophelia had black hair??

“Your hair…”

“Yep, black. I only started to dye in my sixth and seventh year. I wanted something to make us stand apart. I can’t believe how many times boys went to the wrong sister. I knew it made Tisha angry. She once hexed a boy’s bollocks and he was in the hospital wing for weeks.”

Another photo of the sisters, this time where Ophelia’s hair was blonde, and they sat in what looked like a courtyard full of statues. They were laughing and Harry saw a man with white blonde hair in the back of them staring at the pair of sisters.

A buzzing noise yelled through the potions lab.

“Oh! That’s dinner!”

(Aunt Ophelia gave Harry the brain along with mashed potatoes that night.)

September 1st couldn’t have come quicker, in Harry’s mind. It was a hellish month. Everyday his aunt's family would spend all day out in the sun, holy seven circles of hell. They flew on broomsticks (which Harry excelled at, of course.) and played with gobstones and their neighbours. A giant, loud, family of gingers. He remembered how his aunt had pulled him away from his reading (Poisons, Hexes to Use on Your Enemies, & Easy Curses by Bertha Nightlock) to meet the family of gingers.

"Harry, dear," A smile was bright on Ophelia's face. "These are our neighbours, the Weasley's!" She spread her arms out as if she was on a muggle gameshow Grandmama liked to watch but was always disappointed when contestants either won or didn't get mauled by a mountain lion.

"Hello there Harry!" A plump woman with red hair and a round face bustled out from her family, holding her arms out, a smile on her face. "I'm Molly Weasley, and these are my children," She pointed to a tall boy with glasses and curly red hair, he was the only one wearing a matching robe set. "This is Percy," His arms were crossed and he stood tall, unlike the others—his face was tight and his lips pursed. He looked positively dreadful. "My twins, Fred and George,"

"Hey there Potter!" The twins said in unison. "Say do you—" "Have that—" "Scar?" They finished together.