One week later:
The ancient chamber of the Wizengamot was unusually full; even the oldest Lords and Ladies, who rarely stirred from their ancestral manors, had come, all summoned by the chief warlock for an emergency session, which in and of itself was already cause for alarm, as no emergency session had been called since the days of Voldemort.
Albus Dumbledore stood at the head of the chamber, his usually regal presence diminished. His hands clutched the rail before him as if it were the only thing holding him upright. The lines on his face were deeper. The twinkle in his eyes was gone. He looked not merely old but tired.
"My Lords and Ladies," Dumbledore said gravely, his voice echoing off marble and ancient stone, "I come before you with a matter of utmost urgency..."
The room seemed to lean forward as one as they heard the exhausted yet grave tone in the aged man's voice.
"Three weeks ago, Harry Potter… was taken."
A sharp intake of breath passed like a breeze through the chamber, each lord and lady shocked into silence as Dumbledore continued in the same tone as before.
"And is currently under the guardianship of the Addams Family…"
Silence.
A beat passed, then two.
And then chaos erupted throughout the chamber as dozens of voices screamed out in horror and anger.
"The Addams Family?!"
"Impossible!"
"They were in America!"
"Taken? You mean abducted?"
"Where were the Muggle authorities?!"
Lady Augusta Longbottom stood, her hat bobbing indignantly. "That blasted American family is raising Harry Potter? I thought they were exiled!"
"They weren't exiled," Lord Greengrass corrected coolly from where he sat. "They left. And wisely, I might add, they've been nothing but a legend since..."
Lord Nott snorted at that. "A legend? No, Greengrass… A threat. I remember the last whispers before they vanished. The Ministry called them… ungovernable."
Lady Longbottom's gaze turned sharp. "They are dark, always have been. I remember Morticia's mother, damn near hexed an entire gala when they ran out of absinthe…"
Amidst the shouting and arguing, one man remained still.
Lucius Malfoy.
His fingers clenched the carved head of his serpent cane, but his mind was far, far away, fifteen years in the past.
He remembered the night well; the Dark Lord, still newly risen, had sent twelve of them, men who wore their masks with pride. He had told them the Addamses were eccentric, dangerous, but potentially useful: "Bring them to heel," he'd said. "Or bring them to me in chains."
Lucius had expected a brief and brutal affair; what he had found was a manor wrapped in mist and roses, an invitation scrawled in blood; the family welcomed them, offered drinks. And then the slaughter began…
He remembered Gomez's grin as he cut through Travers with a rapier slick with acid, turning the man into a puddle in a matter of seconds; Morticia's haunting waltz through the bloodied halls, dancing around corpses as if it were all a show as men screamed from where they hung on meat hooks.
He remembered how the air seemingly laughed with them; he remembered the eyes, black and bottomless. Only Lucius had escaped; bruised, broken, drenched in blood, he'd apparated back without his wand and without his pride…
And he had never spoken of it again, not even when the mutilated bodies of his comrades were mailed back to Voldemort in polished black coffins with skeletal carvings on the lids; the Dark Lord had never sent another emissary.
As Lucius thought about that night, and the thing he had seen, he shivered uncontrollably; even now, nearly sixteen years later, he could still hear the laughter. That horrible, evil, laughter…
"Lord Malfoy?"
Lucius blinked before raising his head and realizing with a start that all eyes were on him; blushing at his lack of attention, he stood slowly, voice cold and composed. "I… support the motion to retrieve Mr. Potter. But I advise… caution."
"Caution?" scoffed Lord Macmillan. "They have taken the Boy-Who-Lived. They should be crushed!"
"And if we try," Lucius said quietly, "we will bleed... We might win, but only after we have paid a price in blood that will be long remembered."
A heavy silence followed that as if each could see exactly what Lord Malfoy was suggesting and believed every word of it.
"I second Lord Malfoy's sentiment," said Lord Greengrass after a pause. "The Addams Family is… not to be trifled with. They are altogether evil…"
Lady Longbottom rose again. "So, what do you propose? That we do nothing while they raise our national hero in a house full of lunatics and devil worshippers?!" A dozen arguments broke out at once as each Lord and Lady yelled over the other with an idea about what should be done; some screamed for open war, others that diplomacy should take hold before blood was spilled.
"Silence!" Dumbledore finally shouted, his voice cracking like a whip and instantly ending the noise as the hall stilled, though fury still bristled beneath the surface like a storm.
"I did not come here to demand blood," Dumbledore said, slower now. "Only to speak the truth; the Addams Family are not what we would call… conventional. But they have not harmed Harry. In fact, they may have done more for his welfare than any of us…"
"What are you saying?" Madam Edgecombe called out in outrage. "You're siding with them?"
"No," Dumbledore said, and he looked exhausted. "But I am telling you what I have seen. Harry is safe, fed, clothed, and spoken to kindly. The children of the household have embraced him. He… smiles."
A murmur rippled through the room at this as though they could not quite believe that any… normal child would willingly want to spend even a minute in the company of those monsters disguised as human beings.
"You mean to say they treat him better than the Muggles did?" asked Lord Greengrass, incredulous.
"I do," Dumbledore said, with painful honesty, "The Dursleys were not kind to him..."
"Then why was he left there in the first place?"
That question wasn't rhetorical, and the look on Dumbledore's face said he had asked it of himself many times.
"We were trying to protect him," McGonagall's voice rang from the side of the chamber, where guests normally sat; though there was only one today. "Through blood wards..."
"Well, that plan clearly failed," scoffed Lady Selwyn, a sentiment that was clearly shared based on the grumblings that echoed from around the chamber.
"We are not suggesting inaction," Dumbledore said at last, his voice iron. "We are suggesting diplomacy. A delegation. We send Aurors—not to fight—but to issue a formal invitation. A summons to speak before this very chamber. We ask them, politely, to come explain themselves."
Murmurs rippled through the benches; some for the proposition, some against.
"And if they refuse?" asked Lord Nott with a dark chuckle. "They're not known for their manners. Or their mercy…"
"Then we will reevaluate," said Dumbledore. "But I will not risk open war until every other option has been exhausted. The last time someone waged war against the Addams clan, it ended with the entire vampire race of Transylvania being wiped from the earth. That was over seven centuries ago… and I sincerely doubt they've grown any kinder since." Lord Greengrass sighed. "And what if they do come? What then? Do we charge them? Arrest them in this chamber?"
"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," said Lady Longbottom stiffly. "Let's just pray they don't come armed."
Another voice rose from the middle tier, Lady Selwyn, cool and clipped. "I've read what little there is in the Department of Mysteries records; the family is dangerous. Unnatural. But if what Dumbledore says is true, and they are caring for the boy… then this is a delicate situation, and if we mishandle it, we could end up alienating the savior of our world, and if that happens… The wizarding world could turn on itself."
"…Or find itself missing a few key Aurors," muttered a man in grey who was standing directly behind Minister Fudge.
"Then it's decided," Fudge said a moment later, where he had been watching nervously, sweat beading at his collar. "Two dozen Aurors, trusted ones… They will go, unarmed save for their wands, to issue the summons."
He looked around for a moment, looking almost petrified at the idea of issuing this order, yet knowing he had been boxed into a corner. "Let it be recorded in the minutes. The Wizengamot formally requests the presence of Gomez and Morticia Addams before this chamber within the next fortnight to explain the guardianship of Harry James Potter."
"And when should we expect a response?" asked Lady Longbottom as an eerie silence descended upon the chamber; the order had been given, and there was no going back now…
"If they don't kill the messengers?" murmured Lord Nott. "Soon…"
Dumbledore closed his eyes slowly, hoping beyond hope that for once, once in their history, the Addams family would be amenable to negotiation.