Chapter 5: Hogwarts
"Professor, please—calm down!" Russell raised both hands in surrender and, for some reason, saluted in a crisp French military style.
"Answer me!" Snape roared, slashing his wand through the air. Russell ducked instinctively, terrified of being accidentally hexed.
"I heard it from the Addams family!" Russell blurted out. "About—uh—the savior of the British wizarding world, the boy who lived, the vanquisher of the Dark Lord—Harry Potter!"
Of course, that was a lie.
Wednesday had never said a word to him about the wizarding world. But faced with an armed, wand-wielding Snape, Russell could only pray that the man respected wizarding law enough not to curse a minor over a misunderstanding.
From the way Snape reacted at the mere mention of the name Harry Potter—and from his unmistakable appearance—Russell had already guessed who he was dealing with.
Severus Snape.
Double agent. Former lieutenant of Voldemort. Dumbledore's trusted confidant. Head of Slytherin House. The infamously terrifying potions master of Hogwarts.
"...Addams," Snape repeated slowly.
The fire in his expression dimmed somewhat, replaced by a flicker of unease—perhaps even caution. His black eyes studied Russell with renewed scrutiny. Clearly, he hadn't expected anyone to be associating with that particular family.
"For your own sake," he said finally, voice low but sharp, "keep your distance from them. The Addamses are… dangerous company for a young wizard."
Russell nodded obediently. "Understood, sir."
He wisely avoided bringing up anything about the earlier Harry Potter incident. The last thing he wanted was to start his magical education as "that student Snape already despises."
"My name," Snape continued stiffly, "is Severus Snape. I am a professor at Hogwarts."
His tone was formal, clipped—but not unkind. At least, not by Snape's standards.
"Would you like to sit, Professor? Tea?" Russell asked quickly, pulling out a chair and fetching a cup.
Snape gave a curt nod. "Thank you."
He took a slow sip, then asked evenly, "Are your parents home? I'll need their consent before confirming your enrollment at Hogwarts."
Russell's smile faltered. "My parents are… gone, sir." He spread his hands slightly. "And, uh—what exactly is Hogwarts?"
He did his best to sound like a perfectly ordinary Muggle-born child who'd just learned magic was real.
For a moment, Snape seemed genuinely surprised. Then his expression softened ever so slightly before returning to its usual unreadable mask.
"My condolences, Mr. Fythorne. And no—you clearly haven't received your letter yet."
Russell shook his head.
Snape sighed faintly, a trace of irritation in his tone. "It seems another owl has lost its way. Typical."
He reached into his robes, pulled out a crisp parchment envelope sealed with red wax, and handed it over.
"Read this," he said. "It will explain everything. In a few days, another professor will come to take you shopping for your school supplies."
He stood and turned toward the door.
"Thank you, Professor Snape," Russell said quickly, clutching the letter.
Snape paused at the threshold.
"Remember this, Mr. Fythorne," he said without looking back. "Stay away from the Addams family. That's the best advice you'll ever receive."
The door closed behind him with a soft click.
Russell sat in silence for a long moment, the sealed Hogwarts envelope trembling faintly in his hands.
Then, under his breath, he whispered—
"...Addams, Hogwarts, and Snape. What kind of crossover mess have I walked into?"
Snape's steps halted, though he didn't turn around.
His deep, measured voice echoed through the air beside Russell's ear—
and then, just as suddenly, the spot where he'd stood was empty.
Russell blinked. Gone.
The Addams family might have been strange, yes, but they'd always treated him kindly.
Why did Snape sound almost afraid of them?
And stranger still—Snape wasn't nearly as cruel or venomous as the version Russell remembered from the movies.
Sure, he was cold, sharp-tongued, and perpetually brooding, but there had been something almost… warm behind his words.
A man who pretended not to care—yet couldn't help himself.
"Was that just my imagination?" Russell murmured, rubbing his chin.
He looked down at the heavy envelope in his hand, its crimson wax seal gleaming with the Hogwarts crest.
A small, incredulous smile tugged at his lips.
At that moment, he realized—
the door to the wizarding world had just opened for him.
---
"Wait—you actually got your Hogwarts letter?"
The rusty hinges of the old swing groaned as Wednesday Addams soared higher and higher, the chain creaking under the strain. Her long braids whipped behind her like black ribbons, and an uncharacteristically pleased smile tugged at her pale face.
Russell sat on the swing beside her, idly flipping through Pugsley's stack of collectible wizard cards. "Yep," he replied. "Just yesterday, actually. Delivered by none other than Professor Snape himself."
"Professor Snape?" Pugsley muttered from the grass, distractedly tying a frog to an arrowhead.
"Yeah," Russell said, squinting at one of the cards. "Wait a sec…"
The illustration depicted a bald man with chalk-white skin, nose slits instead of nostrils, and a wand raised mid-curse — unmistakably Voldemort.
As Russell stared, the painted figure turned his head, locking eyes with him.
Then, with a twitch of his wrist, the wand flashed — and a blinding green light filled the card.
Russell flinched. "This definitely isn't… officially licensed merchandise." He handed the card back to Pugsley. "I mean, British wizards can't even say his name without panicking. There's no way something like that would be allowed to circulate."
"Of course not," Pugsley said proudly. "That's why it's rare. One of a kind."
Russell sighed. Figures.
The swing creaked as Wednesday slowed to a stop. Her tone, when she spoke, was low and deliberate — as though reciting a curse.
"Hogwarts," she said darkly. "A place of nightmares. They sing cheerful songs in the dining hall."
Russell blinked, then chuckled. "That… does sound terrifying."
He'd long since learned that the Addams family's worldview ran in the opposite direction of everyone else's.
To Wednesday, sunshine was sinister, laughter was dreadful, and Disney movies were the stuff of horror.
It was odd—
but, Russell thought, not bad at all.
"By the way," he asked, "did you get your Hogwarts letter too? It'd be nice to have a friend there."
Pugsley answered before she could. "Wednesday's only ten. She'll get her letter next year. But Mom says she might prefer Durmstrang anyway—"
"I'm going to Hogwarts."
Wednesday's voice cut through his words, cold and final.
Her eyes gleamed faintly beneath her bangs.
If Russell was going, then so was she.
---
Later that evening, Russell found himself once again inside the Addams' gothic parlor.
"You received your Hogwarts letter, did you?" Morticia said, her tone a perfect blend of warmth and melancholy. She sat elegantly on a velvet sofa, knitting with impossibly fast hands. The needles clicked rhythmically, almost hypnotically. "How lovely… I remember those days."
"You studied at Hogwarts?" Russell asked, surprised. For some reason, he'd always assumed the Addams parents were Durmstrang alumni.
"Indeed," she said with a wistful smile. "I was a Hufflepuff. Professor Sprout was my Head of House — a wonderful woman. We got along quite well."
She gestured gracefully toward the far corner of the room.
Russell followed her gaze—
and nearly stumbled back.
There, in the garden beyond the tall window, lay a miniature jungle of writhing plants.
Thick vines coiled and swayed as if breathing, leaves glistening with venomous dew.
And among them…
The same man-eating flower that had tried to swallow his head last time waved one lazy tendril at him—almost as if to say welcome back.
Russell's lips twitched.
"Ah," he muttered under his breath, "so that's what Hufflepuff gardening class does to a person."