Harry Potter and Camp Chippewa

Chapter 1:

Harry scowled as he looked at the sight of Camp Chippewa from the backseat. "Why do I have to go to Camp?"

"No questions, boy!" Vernon thundered gruffly. "You should be grateful we're paying for you to go here, ungrateful freak!"

Harry chuckled darkly. "Careful, Uncle Vernon. We wouldn't want my Godfather to know that nickname you so often call me."

The Dursleys all turned pale at the reminder that Harry had a serial killer Godfather who could easily slaughter them all and remained silent until they parked the car.

Harry quickly escaped the Dursleys, lugging his trunk behind him, where he kept all his items, including his invisibility cloak. His Avada green eyes caught sight of a family dressed in all Black, with a Frankenstein-like man standing behind them. They all looked quite eerie.

Then he saw the bottle of poison the daughter of the family held in her hands and walked over to them. "Hello," he greeted. "I'm Harry. Is that Arsenic, or Cyanide?"

The family seemed intrigued by him as he observed them. The father of the family had a neatly trimmed mustache and a pinstriped suit, and was shorter than his wife, who was taller than him by half a head. The wife's long, midnight black hair was straight and laid flat around her face, her gaunt facial features and pale skin contrasting with her dark eyes, lipstick and vampiric styled dress.

The son of the family was round like Dudley, but Harry could recognise that his size was from muscle instead of fat, and also held a cigarette much like his father's in his hand. Finally, but not least, the daughter, who stared at him with morbid fascination upon his question about her poison bottle. Her dark hair was in plaits and laid just on her shoulder blades, pale skin and high cheekbones reminding Harry eerily of the Pureblood society in the wizarding world.

"It's Arsenic," the girl replied.

"I prefer Aconite myself," he smirked. "It's easier to acquire without the authorities being aware, since it's easily bred and grown in the common garden."

The father gave a hearty laugh. "Ah! Good man! Gomez Addams! This is my wife Morticia, Lurch, and Wednesday and Pugsley."

"Charmed," Harry smiled. "Not to be rude, but may I ask if you're Purebloods?"

"Ah! A wizard!" Gomez exclaimed. "Well, only the women of the family do the enchanting in the household. Wednesday is going to attend Beauxbatons herself at the end of the summer. Hogwarts?"

"The education is pathetic, but they do have incredibly dangerous adventures," Harry chuckled. "In my first year, I battled a Troll, found a Cerberus, and my Defense Professor tried to kill me. I killed him first of course."

The family looked very impressed. "Killed your Professor?! At Eleven?" Morticia said in a wistful yet alluring and dark voice. "Oh, how inspirational. Wednesday dear, it looks like you'll have a good playmate here. Isn't that wonderful?"

"Tell me more about Hogwarts," Wednesday said eagerly.

Harry raised a brow and recalled his second year. "In my second year, a House Elf tried to kill me, I encountered an entire herd of Acromantula, and about a dozen students were found Petrified by a Basilisk. I had to kill the poor thing, sadly. She tried to kill me first, but I harvested much of her venom and body. Would you like a bottle?"

Wednesday was in awe as she nodded eagerly. Harry was amused at the girl's interest in his track record with danger. "Ah yes. I forgot to mention I survived a Killing Curse and my Godfather is a wanted Mass Murderer who escaped Azkaban. Perhaps you've heard of him. Sirius Black."

"Oh what a wonderful upbringing you've had," Morticia praised. "It's like you were born to be one of us."

"Hello!" Chirped a sickeningly happy voice. The Addams family and Harry all turned to look at a girl with long blonde hair and a sunny face which reminded Harry of Malfoy and his extremely privileged life. "I'm Amanda Buckman. Why are you dressed like that?"

"Like what?" Wednesday retorted coldly.

"Like you're going to a funeral," Amanda clarified, a look of disdain falling upon her face. "Why are you dressed like someone died?"

"Wait."

Harry snorted at Wednesday's reply.

"Hi, Don Buckman!" Came a man with dark hair, accompanied by a woman with bobbed brown hair, putting their arms around Amanda after shaking hands with Gomez. "Isn't this place something else. Very Exclusive."

"Really?" Gomez said, slightly disbelieving as he looked around at the pompous, fair-haired rich children.

"Oh yeah. Kid has to be extra special to get in," he boasted, casting a look of superiority at the Addams, the kind family who Harry had spoken to moments ago. "Gifted—Exceptional! Our Amanda's already skipped two grades. How about your boy?"

Gomez smiled proudly and clapped Pugsley on the shoulder. "Probation!"

Harry did not miss the looks that the Addams received from the Buckmans, who reminded him of the bullies he used to deal with in Primary. Mrs Buckman gave a fake smile. "We just love Chippewa. Amanda couldn't wait, it's all she talked about! She's got a whole new wardrobe."

The bob haired woman cast Wednesday a look of disgust, before quickly hiding her true expression. "And this little lady?"

Morticia gave a sweet—although eerie—smile at the woman. "Oh, Wednesday is at that very special age when a girl has only one thing on her mind."

"Boys?"

"Homicide."

Harry wondered about the Buckmans, and voiced his question aloud. "Who did you have to sleep with to get a blonde daughter ma'am," he drawled at Amanda's mother.

Mrs Buckman looked affronted. "Why, what do you mean?"

"Your daughter may be an idiot, but I'm not," Harry scowled. "Two dark haired parents cannot have a blonde child. Either she is a product of adultery, or she is adopted." His green eyes tore through the nervous family. "Either way, compared to the Addams or myself, you Amanda, seem to be unwanted. A mistake. A waste of space. At least we actually came from those who claim to be our parents."

The Addams seemed impressed with his words and his way of defending them and their honour. Wednesday smirked in gratitude.

Amanda seemed confused, like the little idiotic mistake she was, while Mr and Mrs Buckman looked terrified at the possible loss of their reputation.

They were saved by a pair who whistled and called for the attention of all the campers.

"I'm Gary Granger!"

"And I'm Becky Martin-Granger!"

Harry's eyes widened, jaw slackened. No. They couldn't be the same Grangers Hermione was born from, could they? Such cheerful, idiotic, terrifying people!

"Harry!"

"Hermione?!" Harry gasped, as he watched his best friend's bushy-haired figure running for him and embracing him. "What—Are those your—please tell me it's not true!"

Hermione looked ashamed, her face tinted with red embarrassment. "They're my uncle and aunt. My parents were on a business trip and made me spend my summer here! I'm so horrified, Harry! I'm so glad that at the very least I won't have to suffer alone!"

Harry pats her back in sympathy. "Oh, Hermione, let me introduce you. This is the Addams family. Mr Gomez Addams, Mrs Morticia Addams, Pugsley Addams and this is Wednesday. And...Lurch, is it?"

Lurch gave a moan. Hermione stared at the zombie. "Oh! How fascinating! Are you some sort of Inferius? You seem to have complete sentience. Were you created through Necromancy? Who created you? Isn't Necromancy Dark Magic? Are you capable of speech?"

"Hermione, breathe," Harry sighed. "This is Hermione Granger. She is my best friend at Hogwarts. The brightest witch of her age, and...quite horrified to be related to the owners of this camp, I think."

"Horrified is one word," Hermione mumbled. "They're terrifying, Harry. It's nice to meet you all. I didn't think I could survive another day with them until I saw Harry. My saviour, my solace in this realm of...sunny cheery...over privileged brats!"

Harry raised a brow at his friend's behaviour. "Alright. Hermione, although I love you like my own sister, you're scaring me. Should I be worried?"

Hermione's whimpering was all the answer he and the Addams needed.