Chapter Text
Harry panted as his hand-me-down sneakers slapped against the pavement, stumbling over the peeling rubber soles. He couldn’t keep running for much longer but he couldn’t think of a plan with Dudley and his friends on his heels, jeering and laughing. Just ahead of him around the corner, he spotted a patch of tangled vines and weeds. With just a quick thought of it hopefully not being poison ivy or something of the like, he ducked around the wall out of sight and crashed through the thick greenery. Pulling his knees to his chest and making himself as small as possible, Harry hid tucked in the bushes and held his breath as the group of older boys noisily stampeded past his hiding spot.
He waited until the voices faded completely before pushing further into the weeds, trying to get as far away as possible before they realized they had lost him and doubled back. Leaves and twigs caught in his hair as he picked his way through the tangled branches before suddenly stumbling out onto a clear path. He wasted no time scrambling back to his feet and hurriedly looked around to see if he had been spotted but… there was no one there. As far as he could tell, the path was deserted. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was still holding and finally took in his surroundings.
The path wasn’t paved, just a dirt and gravel road leading farther into the fog and foliage. All along the sides, thorny branches and dead leaves lined the road in muted shades of brown and gray, completely unlike the perfectly green manicured lawns of Privet Drive. The air was different as well, cool and crisp with the smell of rain just on the horizon, a dreary overcast covering the sunny blue sky that had just been there. His threadbare shirt was doing very little to fend off the chill that was quickly raising goosebumps all along his arms but eager to avoid the attention of Dudley and his group of morons, he squared his shoulders and made himself as intimidating as his small frame would allow before continuing along the path.
As he ventured further, the plants cleared and became sparse, while the fog only settled more heavily around him. Through it, a rusted looming gate revealed itself while just beyond, an overgrown greenhouse piqued his curiosity. Harry slipped easily between the bars of the fence and trotted along the side of the structure to peer around the corner.
“What do you see?” Harry’s stomach made a comfortable home for itself in his throat as he whirled around, coming face to face with an… odd woman. She was tall, taller than his Aunt Petunia, and she stood over him imposingly. Her dark hair and bold makeup stood out starkly against her pale skin; that, coupled with her trailing black dress, had him imagining she was just the kind of person Uncle Vernon was thinking of when he groused about people like Harry. She was really quite beautiful, with an easy elegance and grace about her. Still, she was standing very high above him and had caught him doing something he likely shouldn't have been, which coupled together did not help to put him at ease. As if hearing his thoughts, she lowered herself to be at eye level with him—getting her dress dirty as well, Harry noted, Aunt Petunia would never.
“Hello there. Are you looking for something?” Her voice was soft like velvet. Harry only shook his head, “Are you lost then, foudret?” He looked around for a moment before shyly nodding again, “Well then, how about you come join me for tea?” Now, Harry was a smart boy, he knew all about Stranger Danger and how you shouldn’t trust random adults… But something about the woman was so incredibly welcoming and kind, so as she opened her arms in invitation, he didn’t hesitate long before reaching back towards her and allowing himself to be swept up. As she gathered him into her arms and stood back to her full height, Harry held the soft fabric of her sleeves tightly in his hands. She seemed to almost float above the gravel as she traveled along the road he had previously been following, and he marveled at the fact that he could not ever recall being held or carried like this. Her long hair draped over her shoulders and tickled his face a bit, but he found he didn’t really mind at all.
He was pulled from these musings, however, as he heard the faintest whoosh travel through the air. He looked up and was startled to spot an arrow soaring through the air directly towards them and as the projectile approached, panic briefly overtook him; he couldn’t let the nice woman get hit! Harry felt his stomach flip and his heart tug and just the slightest buzzing in his fingers, before the arrow sparked and went up in flames, flickering out and vanishing just before it reached them. The woman turned at the commotion and Harry tensed up for a moment, awaiting her reaction, but she seemed to just sigh with slight exasperation.
“Wednesday, dear, what have we said about shooting at guests?” She spoke to seemingly nobody before a young girl dropped from a tree not far from them, carrying a large crossbow comically disproportionate to her small frame. She appeared to be about the same age as Harry if not slightly younger, sporting a similarly pale complexion as the woman—her mother, maybe?—and two black pigtails clashing with the grim look on her face.
“... Not in the cemetery,” the girl, apparently named Wednesday, responded flatly, not sounding very remorseful—though not really sounding much of anything with her monotone delivery.
“You know Uncle Fester would be devastated if we had to clean the gravestones, he’s worked hard to cultivate all the mold,” the woman reminded her gently, “I’m sure your father would give you and Pugsley some arsenic if you asked him, though.” Wednesday huffed and looked away, seemingly considering the offer before nodding once and continuing on in the direction they had just come from, still dragging the crossbow behind her.
“You’ll have to forgive Wednesday,” The woman spoke to him again, “She’s been in such a mood ever since Thing broke her axe.” After that, she carried on as if nothing unusual had happened, so Harry chose not to comment on it either, instead watching silently as an enormous mansion came into view just over the crest of the hill. The building loomed several stories high, with a few of the arched windows lit from the inside. He only had a few moments to take in the dark siding and sharp spires before they were climbing the front steps and the ornate front doors swung open to reveal a towering man with lanky arms and gaunt features. Harry watched him curiously, though not unkindly.
“Thank you, Lurch. We have a new guest today,” She spoke to the man, Lurch, while referring to the child still held in her arms.
“Hello,” Harry greeted softly, “I’m Harry.”
“Ngghhh,” The man grunted wordlessly. Harry blinked once, then nodded.
“Nice to meet you.” Lurch stood still for a moment longer before slowly shuffling away, dusting the furniture with a feather duster so entirely coated in dirt and cobwebs that it seemed to only make the vase he was working on even dirtier. The woman continued walking after the short interaction and Harry peered over her shoulder to look around as they moved further into the house. It was entirely unlike anything else he had seen before; the furniture was striking in its grandeur, couches and rugs in extravagant fabrics and intricate carvings in the dark wood of the ceiling. Chandeliers and candles created a dim atmosphere casting long shadows along the floor, and it seemed almost every free surface was covered in a variety of trinkets, baubles, and knick-knacks. Bones, doilies, bird skulls, crystals, models, and jars were meticulously arranged on every shelf and end table in sight. It was mystifying and confounding and he loved it.
Soon they were turning down a small staircase spiralling down into a room that was probably meant to be a kitchen under all the grime and clutter. At the center of the madness was a stout older woman, hunched over a boiling pot of something and flipping through an ancient looking book while she shuffled through the piles of ingredients surrounding her, alternating between tossing them over her shoulder or adding them into the bubbling mixture. With each new ingredient, the smoke coming up from the pot changed colors and filled the room with strange aromas—nothing that Harry recognized, but not entirely unpleasant.
“Grandmama,” the old woman whipped around with her wooden spoon held above her head like a weapon, “We have a guest.” She relaxed once she spotted the pair, lowering the utensil back down to a more non-threatening position. Harry thought she looked like the witches in Dudley’s picture books, with her bird’s nest hair and her clothes covered in trinkets and glass vials.
“Ah, Morticia!” Harry took note of the woman’s name for later, “I was just about to start on dinner.” A brown sack behind the witch started shifting and rustling like something inside it was moving around, but it settled down after a sharp whack from the witch’s spoon before she turned back to them. She grinned widely when she spotted Harry, still held in Morticia’s arms. “Well, hello there! Who is this little beastie, then?”
“Hello ma’am,” Harry straightened his back as much as one could while being held, Aunt Petunia’s shrill voice scolding him in his head to mind his manners, “My name is Harry.”
“Harry, what a delight!” she crowed as she hobbled over to them, “Always wonderful to meet another degenerate young mind.” Harry couldn’t stop himself from flinching slightly as the old woman reached towards him, but she only patted him gently on his head. He glanced back nervously to see the lady– Morticia’s reaction, but the only difference he could see was one of her neat brows quirked up just slightly.
“We were just about to have some tea, Grandmama,” she interrupted the witch before she could start pinching his cheeks, “Would you care to join us?”
“Oh, that’s alright, dear! I still need to get supper under control…” She turned to glare suspiciously at the brown sack again as it was starting to inch towards the edge of the table.
“Very well, do try to save the eyes for Pugsley, you know how he loves his midnight snack.” With that, Morticia turned and kept walking, leaving the sounds of clattering pans behind them as she brought them to a small table under a barred window. It was different from the long wooden one nearer to the kitchen; there were only a couple of chairs around the much smaller circular table, and the surface itself was a cracked and dusty pane of glass, delicate metal vines wrapping around the edges and down the legs.
She set Harry down gently in one of the chairs before settling gracefully into the one just next to him. Harry watched as she set out a few cups, looking over all the various dishes spread across the table. They were all beautiful china pieces, similar to the set his Aunt Petunia displayed proudly in the living room while snapping if Harry so much as breathed in their direction. Unlike Aunt Petunia’s, though, the set on the table was made entirely of mismatched plates, cups, bowls, and pitchers; all similar looking at first glance with dark glazes, smaller details painted across them in blues, purples, and golds, but looking closer, every one of them was a slightly different shape and design, a far cry from the perfect cohesiveness he saw in the china cabinet at #4 Privet Drive.
Harry was distracted from his observations, jumping slightly as a dish was set lightly in front of him. He looked up to see Morticia pouring tea into both of their cups, the drink a curious deep purple color.
“Uncle Fester sent us back a lovely Belladonna tea he got off an alchemist in Turkey,” she told him as she put the teapot down gently before picking up a small bowl and offering it to him, “Sugar, dear?” Harry peered into the bowl and saw… sugar, yes, only instead of small cubes, it was shaped into miniature bones. He blinked for a moment before nodding carefully.
“May… may I have this one?” He hesitantly pointed to an interesting looking piece that had caught his eye, “Please.”
“Ah, a tibia, excellent choice,” she smiled gently, using the small metal tongs to pick out the one he had pointed to and drop it in his tea. Harry ducked his head forward, hiding his shy smile behind his messy fringe as she finished adding sugar and cream to both cups. When she was done, he watched carefully as she sipped her tea, sniffing his own cup cautiously. Nothing seemed off about it, so he carefully took a small sip.
It was wonderful; sweet and dark tasting, with a bit of spice that lingered in his throat. Anything he was ever given at the Dursley's was always bland and cold and left him almost hungrier than he started. The tea was hot and delicious and warmed him from the inside, spreading from his stomach to the tips of his fingers. He drank the rest of it enthusiastically.
After the tea was finished, Harry walked back to #4 Privet Drive and was practically still smiling by the time the door came into view. Of course, Uncle Vernon was waiting for him at the door like a troll guarding a bridge, and he stomped and shouted and dragged him to his cupboard. It couldn’t shake Harry from his good mood, though, and he still felt warm as he curled up under his thin blanket.