The Nightmare Verity

by Zevoros

Sometimes, things go wrong. Sometimes, there is only bleak darkness left. Sometimes, people whisper, 'So long' as the world crumbles around them. As a new order stands tall over a magical world, Harry must reckon with the ideals he has known all his life as the twisted dystopia that is his verity reveals its gruesome capacity for evil...

3. Verify Your Humanity

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor do I make any claims of ownership.

Additionally, this story features offensive language and imagery, proceed at your own discretion.

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Verify Your Humanity

Part 2

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Focusing on his surroundings had never been so difficult for Harry Potter before.

The blurriness and edginess overtook his vision as he gazed around, unfamiliar with the colors of the room. Where could he have fallen asleep that had this bright white, monochromatic color?

Then, it came back to him all at once and Harry shot his head up. His hand, almost on its own, went exploring the bedside table, searching for his spectacles.

Clutching the spectacles in one hand, Harry's other hovered over where Cassius shot that cutting spell at him. Confused, he found nothing but smoothish skin.

He put his glasses on and his surroundings became clear. It was a large, open room that Harry had never seen before.

"Herr Potter, you're awake," he heard a woman's voice say. Out from behind a curtain she appeared. She was an older woman, grey hair tied back. She wore a rather plain-looking Schwester outfit.

Harry decided quickly which question to ask her first. "Where am I?"

"The Hospital Wing," she said, giving him a plastic smile. She walked up next to him, dropping her eyes to points on his body. "Do they still hurt?"

Harry sat up, moving back on the bed to rest himself against the headboard. "No," he told her.

"Good," the Schwester said, a wand appearing in her hand. She waved it over him. "If you find yourself lightheaded after moving, take note that that is completely normal after a week of unconsciousness-"

"A week!?" Harry blurted out.

"-you will, however, have to stay one more day for further analysis," the Schwester continued like he hadn't said anything at all.

Harry covered his face with his hands. A week he'd been gone. He could barely believe it. "How did I get here?"

"The Schulsprecher," the Schwester said, checking over a clipboard. "Herr Weasley and Fräulein Greengrass were very concerned for you, after your fight in the corridor." She looked at him, as if she were daring him to deny this.

Harry started to say that Cassius Warrington did it, that he attacked Harry. But just as the words started to leave his lips, he bit his tongue.

Cassius knew something that Harry did. If Harry told everyone what Cassius did, then he would tell everyone what Harry did. His heart began to pick up the pace. No, no he couldn't tell the Schwester that it was Cassius. He would be ostracized, he was sure of it. Daphne and Ron would never want to be his friend again.

If only he knew what he did wrong. Maybe he would be able to fix it, somehow!

"I didn't get into a fight," Harry said instinctively. Deny, deny, deny his mind screamed at him.

The Schwester did not look convinced. "No?"

Harry licked his lips, dropping his eyes down to stare at his legs, covered by a blanket. "I…" he trailed off.

"Herr Potter, it is very important that you tell us what happened so that something like this doesn't happen again." She placed a hand on his shoulder that was meant to be comforting, but felt more like ice. "Only Jews and Untermensch would be so cowardly to attack someone in the corridors."

Despite the 'comforting' words coming out of the Schwester's mouth, Harry said the first excuse he could come up with.

"I was practicing Verteidigung," he said, looking up at her. "I tried using," he thought quickly, "the Diffindo spell. I-it didn't go well," he said, trying to look as abashed as possible.

The Schwester didn't say anything, just watched him mechanically. "The Diffindo spell is Zauberkunst."

"Oh…" Harry winced and looked back down at his lap.

The Schwester said nothing more, drifting off to another area of the Hospital Wing to leave him alone for the time being.

Harry dropped back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. He wondered if the Schwester believed him. He hoped she did. Would she ask him any more questions about what happened? If she did, he had to think of excuses, quickly.

The large wooden doors at the end of the Hospital Wing opened, and Harry saw as Daphne and Ron stepped into view. When they saw that Harry was awake, Ron darted to his side, Daphne following at a more sedate pace.

"Harry!" Ron exclaimed, coming to a stop. "Are you alright!?"

Harry wasn't expecting such a thing to be said to him, really. It was the first time someone had actually been concerned about the injuries he'd received.

"Yeah, yeah I'm fine," Harry said, sitting back up in his bed.

"We were so worried!" Ron rambled. "Fights never happen at Hogwarts! Only degenerates attack people like that in school!"

Harry wanted to defend himself, that he was only practicing spells, to keep up with his story. But then he'd be lying to his friends.

On seeing Harry's fallen face, Ron rapidly said, "Only the one who started the attack, I mean!"

Ron slowly trailed off into mumbling while Daphne gave Harry a once-over. "Try not to get too worked up over it, Weasley. Professor Friend has probably already expelled them like-" A barely noticeable pause. "-the Untermensch they are."

Ron nodded, looking much more appeased. Harry, though, found himself looking at his fingers with increasing interest.

Daphne took notice of his silence. When he didn't say anything for a bit longer, she said, "You did tell Schwester Pomfrey who did this to you, didn't you?"

Harry bit his lip, playing with his blanket uncomfortably.

"You didn't?" Daphne asked and, for the first time Harry had seen her, she looked stupefied.

"Wait." Ron was finally catching on, too, "Why didn't you-"

"It was an accident!" Harry suddenly said, cutting Ron off. "I was practicing a spell, but it went wrong," he said before he could change his mind about whether or not he should tell them.

Daphne didn't look like she believed him.

"Listen," Ron dropped his voice, leaning down slightly, "You can tell us what happened, we won't judge you."

Harry did want to tell them. But if he did, Cassius might hurt them, too! Or maybe they wouldn't want to be around him anymore! Or, or they'll find out the same thing Cassius had and they won't like him anymore.

His mind made up, Harry reaffirmed, "It was just an accident," in a much more subdued voice.

Daphne and Ron looked at each other for but a moment.

"Okay, sorry. Rolf said that it looked like someone attacked you." Ron put his hands in his pockets.

"Rolf was the one who found me?" Harry recalled that the Schwester told him that the Schulsprecher was the one who found him and felt like an idiot.

"Yeah," Ron confirmed. "Hey, do you wanna go to the Great Hall before class?"

Harry took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. "I can't, the Schwester - Schwester Pomfrey, you said?" He looked at Daphne questioningly. She nodded. "Schwester Pomfrey told me I had to stay here one more night."

Ron deflated, but Daphne's impassive face didn't change at the news.

"I'll be back later to help you with your homework," Daphne said. "It would be a good idea to rest."

"Yeah, that's what Schwester Pomfrey said."

"That's why I said it," Daphne said blandly. She glanced up at a clock hanging up on the wall opposite of them. "Class starts soon, we'd better go, Weasley."

Ron stood up, following Daphne. "I'll come back later, too," he told Harry. "Chess?"

"Sure." Harry wasn't particularly good at it, but it could be fun. Especially if he was confined to this one room for the rest of the day.

Daphne and Ron left and Harry slid back down into his bed, resting his head against the pillow.

Staring up at the ceiling above, Harry pondered if telling Professor Friend about what Cassius did. He'd be protected, surely. Maybe he'd be able to get rid of Cassius without him saying anything?

Harry dismissed the idea. It surely wouldn't work. The Schulleiter would never listen to him, the adults never seem to do. Or Cassius would lie to Professor Friend and get away with it.

No, no, this was a problem that Harry had to fix for himself.

Schwester Pomfrey came up again, a potion vial in her hand. She locked her steel gaze on Harry. "Do you know what this is?"

Harry squirmed under her scrutiny, lightly shaking his head.

"This is a Sleeping Draught," she stated robotically. "It will help you to rest." She put the vial on his bedside table.

Harry was confused. Was she not going to push further about what had happened to him?

"That's it?" Harry asked quietly.

Schwester Pomfrey surveyed Harry calculatingly. "Things like this happen once or twice a year, Herr Potter. I only get truly worried if I see the same person twice."

Harry guessed that made some amount of sense.

"However," she continued and Harry turned back at her, "exceptions have been made for you because of your status." She gave him an ersatz smile.

Harry felt his lip being tugged downward. "I don't want special treatment!"

He'd had forms of special treatment all his life, and never was it good. All he wanted was to be treated like the teens around him.

The Schwester just ignored him. "Rest now, Herr Potter."

Reluctantly, Harry took the vial from the table and drank down the contents. The Schwester took it back as he made himself more comfortable, feeling his eyelids start to close on their own accord.

---

The next day came by quickly and Harry was discharged at the same time Daphne had come to help with his homework.

Together, the two of them walked to the library, where they found an empty spot near a wall and far away from prying eyes.

"So…" Harry didn't really know how to begin, awkwardly pulling one of Daphne's books closer to him. "What did I miss?"

Daphne dipped her quill in ink, replying, "Professor Slughorn wants an essay detailing how to brew a cure for boils. Professorin McGonagall wants us to be able to turn a match to a needle by the end of the week. Nothing for Professorin Sprout. Quirrell provided us with reading materials for the Übermenschen. Professor Adelmein gave us an essay on the Lumos charm. Podmore wants us to construct a timeline of your knowledge in Geschichte der Magie. Professor Riddle wants us to write an essay on how to seal a werewolf bite."

It was… a lot.

Taking in the information for the amount of work he had to do, Harry sighed. "Where do we start?"

Daphne paused, considering the question. Eventually, she said, "Geschichte der Magie would be best."

Harry pushed the book away and got some parchment out. He dipped his quill in ink, debating on where to start. His knowledge on magical history was extremely limited, but he doubted he could just turn in a blank piece of parchment.

"How does it have to look?" Harry asked, twisting the quill by his fingertips.

"It doesn't matter as long as you have the dates and events." She said it without looking up from the essay she was writing.

Harry nodded slightly. At the very bottom of the page, he wrote the one thing that he did know. The one thing that he'd been kept with all this time.

'October 31st, 1949 - the death of Grindelwald', he wrote, the ink bleeding into the page.

Staring down at the parchment, he wondered what his parents' last thoughts were. Were they of him? Were they scared for him? Why did Grindelwald even go after them in the first place? Why, why, why?

"Don't strain yourself thinking too hard about it," Daphne said. Harry looked up at her to find that she had read what he'd written despite being upside-down. "Nobody knows what happened that night."

"It's just… I wonder what they were like, y'know?" Harry played with his quill, unsure what to do with it. He noticed, belatedly, that he now had ink all over his fingers.

Daphne turned her head down. "Your guardians never told you anything about them?"

Harry replied in the negative.

"I just wish I knew why Grindelwald went after them."

Daphne shrugged. "From what I know, your parents were thought as worthy adversaries to him." She looked like she was going to add more but held her tongue.

That was new information to file away. He never thought his parents would be fighters. Maybe that was because his relatives always told him they were… well, that they weren't that.

"They were Gryffindors, did you know?"

Once again, Harry was surprised. "No. No, I didn't know that. They were?"

Daphne gave another nod. "Mother and father were on their last year here when they were in their first. So they told me."

It was amazing. His parents were almost nothing like the image he'd built up in his head. It was probably the most information he knew about his parents at all, actually.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that, the only sound coming from their quills meeting parchment.

At some point, Daphne asked casually, "Have you ever wondered why the magical world never got in touch with you?"

He hadn't, actually. His relatives had practically banned any mention of the word 'magic' from their house. They freely admitted that they wanted to 'stamp the magic out of him', as well.

But even though Harry grew up with limited knowledge about magic, it never once crossed his mind why there hadn't been anyone trying to put him on the front page of the news.

"No, I never thought about it."

"If you want my theory," Daphne dropped her voice despite her casual posture, "I think the Reichsführer banned any and all media to talk about you. To keep you safe."

"Really?"

"Maybe. Who knows?"

Harry's mind whirled. "Why would the Reichsführer do that for me?"

Daphne shrugged again. "Just a theory I had. Which reminds me…" She put a small slip of paper on the table. Not parchment, but paper. "I was tasked with giving this to you." She slid it over.

This was unexpected. Of all the things for Daphne to give him, a regular piece of paper was pretty far down the list.

He picked it up and flipped it over. On it read:

'My office on September 30th, 12:00. Password will be 'Lebensborn'.

Heil Himmler, Pullox Friend'.

"Seems Professor Friend wants you for something," Daphne noted, but she wasn't looking at him anymore.

"You read it?"

"I wasn't told not to."

"Fair enough."

The silence returned once more as Harry finished up his timeline. It was mostly barren, with not much going on on it, except for the most obvious dates that Harry could think of.

It was rather peaceful, Harry thought. He'd read plenty of books at his guardians' house, though he'd never had the opportunity to read anything outside of class or his 'room'. Usually, anything involving books outside of there involved the long-standing tradition of burning them.

Harry remembered something and decided it was good a time as any to ask. "Why don't you like Professor Slughorn?"

Daphne stopped writing and looked up at Harry. Her face was blank and Harry got the impression she was deciding whether or not to tell him.

After a few seconds she said, "Because he plays favorites. He devotes more time to people who have connections."

"Connections?"

"People like Susanne Knochen. Her aunt is very important and Slughorn wants to capitalize on that."

Harry didn't understand it very much and he saw that Daphne could tell.

"He collects people, Harry. People with promising careers because they might be useful to him." Daphne resumed her writing. "I think you should stay away from him. You'd be very special, being the Boy-Who-Lived."

The end of her statement became more monotone and factual. But even still, Harry had better understanding of what she meant.

"I don't want to be special, I want to be Harry. Just Harry."

"I know," she said in a way that suggested that she didn't completely know, "But Slughorn won't see it that way because the Boy-Who-Lived is who they think you are."

Harry deflated. That was a bit depressing. He didn't want to just be the Boy-Who-Lived. He wanted… to be Harry Potter only. Not Harry Potter, Defeater of Grindelwald.

As they settled back into the rhythm of silence, he noticed a few moments later that that was the first time Daphne had referred to him by his first name.

He smiled.

---

A week or so had passed since Harry and Daphne had met in the library to work, and Harry nervously waited for the meeting with Professor Friend to roll around the corner.

And did it roll around the corner.

Harry settled himself down at the Slytherin table that morning. He'd been excused from classes for whatever it was Professor Friend was meeting him for.

Nervously, Harry grabbed a glass of water and sipped on it.

"It won't be that bad," Daphne said, and although the words were supposed to be comforting, her tone did not help suggest that.

"Yeah," Ron agreed. "If you were in trouble they wouldn't, like, schedule something for that."

"Unless it were Nachsitzen."

"No way, you don't have Nachsitzen."

Harry shrugged. He took the piece of paper from his pocket and looked it over. He had about five minutes until he had to go.

"What do you think he wants?"

Ron hummed, putting his fork down on his plate. "Maybe he wants to talk about the accident."

Harry pushed his glasses up. "Maybe." He took a surreptitious glance down the table. Cassius wasn't even looking in Harry's direction, enjoying a conversation with Fred and George.

Daphne took her glass and twirled the water inside a bit. "You don't have to go. You can ask a teacher to reschedule."

"That'll make them suspicious," Harry said. Of that, he was positive. He had no idea if the Schwester had believed the story he gave her.

"They'd only be suspicious if you have something to hide." Daphne put her glass down. Her electric blue eyes met his. "So don't give them a reason to think you have something to hide."

A few more minutes passed in pleasant conversation, mainly between Ron and a nervous Harry, before the latter had to get up and walk to Professor Friend's office.

He hesitated, standing up. After what happened last time, he really did not want to walk the corridors alone.

He was just about to ask Ron and Daphne to walk with him when Percy spotted him.

"You need help, Harry?" Percy asked.

Harry nodded.

"Where are you headed to?"

"Professor Friend's office," Harry mumbled.

Percy mouthed the words back to himself and Harry could practically see the older boy navigating a map in his head.

He turned suddenly and started walking. "Hurry up then, this way."

Harry quickly followed after him, practically speed walking to keep up with Percy's long strides.

He wasn't completely comfortable following Percy. He'd made sure to palm his wand as he did. Honestly, he would've much rather liked if Ron or Daphne went with him instead.

He didn't know Percy, didn't trust him like he trusted Ron and Daphne. They hadn't known each other long, but he felt that he could trust them to not curse him with a spell once his back was turned.

In the limited interactions that Harry had with Percy, he saw him as someone quite different from Cassius. Or different enough, anyway. Different enough to not hurt him like Cassius did.

But he couldn't be sure. In that first week, Cassius had been pleasant enough until he found out something about Harry. Something he didn't like, and Harry hurt badly for it.

As they reached the end of a corridor, Harry saw there was a statue of an eagle in part of the wall. He hadn't seen it before.

"This is the entrance to the Schulleiter office." He gestured to the eagle. "Say the password and you'll be let in." He gave Harry a salute. "Heil Himmler!"

Harry saluted back. "Heil Himmler."

Percy nodded once and spun on his feet, walking away.

Before someone could appear and attack him, Harry said, "Lebensborn."

To his astonishment, the eagle started to move. Twisting, a staircase grew from the ground it stood on.

Harry stepped onto a step and watched with awe as he was carried up.

Reaching the top, he stepped up to a wooden door. Sucking in a deep breath, he knocked on the door.

A moment passed of pure silence. And then, the door slowly opened. Harry pushed it open bit by bit, stepping through the threshold.

At his desk, Professor Friend sat with his fingers steepled. "Heil Himmler," he greeted as Harry came in.

"Heil Himmler."

Harry sat down in the chair in front of Friend. The professor didn't seem to be in any hurry to explain why Harry was there.

No, the man seemed to be perfectly content with just examining Harry. Like he was calculating what exactly the kind of person the Defeater of Grindelwald was supposed to be.

Friend stood up at last, going behind his chair to push it in. Harry watched him from under his bangs. He hadn't been able to hold his eye-contact with him.

"Come, Herr Potter. We have a meeting to attend to." He walked in front of a fireplace and grabbed a bag from off the mantle. He threw some kind of powder in and the flames turned green.

Harry didn't realize he'd stood up until he felt Professor Friend put a hand on his shoulder. "Have you used one of these before?"

Wordlessly, Harry shook his head.

"I had thought not. This is the Floo. It will transport us to our destination."

Transport? Harry thought that sounded insane. The fire might be green, but there was no way it wouldn't do anything other than burn them.

Friend held out a handful of powder. Harry cupped his hands and felt it fill them.

"Step into it and firmly say, 'Reichstag', and throw the powder at your feet."

Harry went pale with fear. That wouldn't work, he was sure of it! It was just fire! Despite his internal protests, though, his legs took step after step until he stepped into the fire.

His mind went blank, wincing.

Nothing happened.

Harry looked down at his legs and hands. He was perfectly fine. The green flames licked his clothes and body but left no marks behind.

Much more confident than he was moments ago, Harry stepped completely into the fire and turned to face Friend.

"Reichstag!" Harry shouted as firmly as he could, throwing the powder at his feet just as he'd been told.

Instantaneously, he felt like his body was suddenly being sucked through a tube, but his body writhed at the foreign feeling.

And then, all at once, he was unceremoniously thrown to a marble floor, his spectacles skidding on the ground a foot or two.

Harry groaned. He already felt a throbbed headache coming on. What happened, anyway?

He blinked, reaching for his glasses. He put them on and took in his surroundings.

It was a very different sight from Professor Friend's office. Concrete structures on a tiled floor permeated the large room. There was a fountain in the center of the room, and standing above it was a statue of the Reichsführer. People were walking here and there, and there was the occasional one being stopped by a soldier.

Harry looked up and viewed the large, concrete archway above them. Large pillars stretched skyward, connecting themselves to the archway. And throughout the beauty of it all, there wasn't a window in sight. It was amazing, Harry thought. He'd never seen a thing like it.

A flooding of air caught the back of Harry's neck and he spun around on his knees.

Professor Friend was adjusting his gloves. If he noticed that Harry was on the floor, he didn't say anything. Harry scrambled to stand up.

Professor Friend started walking and Harry kept his pace. He wished he'd made more of a preparation for himself, and he would've had he known that he was going out like this.

"First time in the Reichstag, Herr Potter?"

"Yeah," Harry replied breathlessly. He was still too busy gazing around.

"I had a similar reaction," Friend stated. "To be in awe of such great design. Of the genius of our great architecture."

Friend slowly came to a stop in front of the statue. Harry mimicked him. At the base of the statue was a military commander. Harry had seen him before on television, but he couldn't place his name.

"Heil Himmler," the man saluted.

"Heil Himmler," Harry and Friend returned.

The man folded his hands behind his back. The first thing Harry noticed about him was that he had two different colored eyes. His left was brown and the other was blue. He was also rather pasty looking, in Harry's opinion. Like he didn't get out in the sun very often.

The man slid his eyes off of Friend to Harry. "I see this is Harry Potter," the man said in German.

"This is," Friend responded in kind. He looked down at Harry. "This is Kommandant Josef Pressler, Herr Potter. He will take you to your meeting."

Before Harry could question the Schulleiter, Friend had already bid them farewell and was going back the direction they came in.

He'd been… left here, just like that.

The man Friend introduced as Josef Pressler put a hand on Harry's shoulder and steered him off towards their destination. As they walked, quite a few people that they passed saluted them. This was rather far out of Harry's comfort zone. Being escorted by an unknown man to an unknown place.

Stepping further into the building from where they'd entered, Harry wondered why there were less people floating about than he'd imagined. On television, the Reichstag was filled with crowds of people.

That's what it always seemed like to Harry, anyway.

Pressler led Harry into a circular chamber, approaching the nearest elevator they'd seen. Right as the door started to close, Pressler stuck his arm in and the door opened back up.

The small group of people inside, some of them looking down at reports in their hands, and others staring off into space with glazed eyes, all simultaneously snapped to attention.

The group greeted Pressler and the man stepped inside, bringing Harry in alongside him. Pressler made no move to create space for anybody else once he was settled, turning to face the door they'd come in through at the front of them like he was the leader of a pack.

Slowly, the door shut. Pressler pressed a button and folded his arms behind his back.

All at once, they ascended.

Harry noticed, once they passed a floor that someone had been waiting on, that it seemed like the elevator knew exactly how important a man Josef Pressler was, deigning to drop them off first.

The minutes stretched on and no one said a word. Harry felt more out of place than ever, being stuck in an elevator with some neatly dressed people while he just wore his school uniform.

Harry didn't know how long they were in the elevator for, but it felt like forever until the door opened again and Pressler stepped out, bringing Harry along.

The room they had entered was far different than the last. It was a long hallway with banners of the Black Sun hanging on the wall. The purple carpet stretched on until the end. There were soldiers at regular intervals at curved points that held portraits of some kind. Harry noticed some loudspeakers hanging at the top of the wall.

The door shut behind them and Harry knew that he could not go back despite his mind screaming at him that something seemed wrong.

Pressler took his hat off to tuck it under his arm, rolling his shoulders. "Have you ever been to the top of the world, Herr Potter?" he asked suddenly, still in German.

Harry jumped. Pressler hadn't said a single word to him while he was being escorted, and he hadn't been expecting him to say a single word until they reached the meeting place.

Harry shook his head and then realized that Pressler wasn't looking at him. "No, sir," he said instead.

Pressler hummed at the answer to his rhetorical question. "It is a true feat of Aryan engineering." He spread his arms out. "To reach up to the stars."

Harry shuffled awkwardly. He didn't know if he should say anything.

Pressler abruptly dropped his hands and started walking without warning. Harry scrambled to keep up behind him.

Harry thought it was interesting that the soldiers didn't so much as glance at them as they walked. They just stared straight ahead.

At long last, they reached the end of the hallway where other soldiers stood at a checkpoint. The one in charge saluted Pressler as they neared.

Pressler and the man entered a conversation that Harry didn't pay any attention to. He wished he understood what was going on. He quickly went through the limited information he knew about the Reichstag.

It was in Lohnten, the capital of the Ordensstaat. The building stretched deep underground like tree roots. It was supposed to be the tallest tower in the world.

Harry struggled to remember any more than that.

"Harry Potter," the man's voice, directed at him, tore him from his thoughts. He had his hand outstretched. "Your wand."

Harry dropped his hand to where he kept his wand. With only a small amount of hesitation, primarily due to not wanting to part with it, he handed it over to the man.

Without a smile, the man let them through the checkpoint and Harry found himself in another elevator not a minute later.

Harry didn't know for how long he was being dragged from floor to floor, going through security checkpoints in order to go wherever he was supposed to be going. For most of it he was lost in thought, wondering what Daphne and Ron were doing at that very moment. Or trying to remember what assignment was due.

Anything to stop keep a growing sense of anxiety down from spilling over the brim. He didn't want to be here without anyone he knew. He wished he had his friends by his side.

The new elevator they'd come on came to a stop, the doors opening just as they always did. Harry was treated to the sight of a large hallway that once again had soldiers guarding along the wall.

Pressler and Harry stepped out onto the purple carpeted floor. Stepping about halfway into the hall, the elevator door shut behind them. Harry wondered if those were the only way in or out, or if there were stairs somewhere.

The corridor might be large, but it was shorter than the other ones. At the end was a set of double doors that Pressler knocked on.

The doors opened, revealing a young man with blond hair. Seeing who it was, he opened both doors to allow Harry and Pressler inside.

It was an office, one very different from Professor Friend's.

Pressler and the man conversed with each other, but Harry didn't care about whatever they were talking about. He was enraptured by the view outside. One large window made up a good portion of the wall of the office, allowing a grand view of Lohnten.

They were so high up in the sky, Pressler was right about that. So high that the people below looked like ants. Harry had never had this kind of view before. He hadn't been able to fly very high, and the Astronomieturm didn't go up nearly as high as this tower did.

Black carpet made up the floor, where, at the center, was a purple Black Sun. Black banners lined the walls in a similar design, spaced apart from each other. A sturdy looking desk filled up the end of the room, where a chair was pushed in. On either side, against the wall, were twin busts of Schutzstaffel soldiers. Above the desk was a large portrait of the Reichsführer himself in front of the flag of the Ordensstaat, the sun setting in the background.

At the sound of the doors opening again, Harry turned his attention to what was happening behind him.

His eyes widened.

"Heil Himmler!" Pressler and the other man snapped to attention, extending their arms in a salute. Harry quickly mirrored the action once he gathered himself.

Heinrich Himmler appeared just as the image on the card did. The only thing he was missing was his hat.

"Mein Reichsführer," Harry breathed in awe. He'd never once thought he'd be in this kind of position. Standing in the proximity of the leader of the state.

"Harry Potter." Himmler slid his leather gloves off his hands. "It is lovely to finally meet you," he said, the English words surprising Harry greatly.

Himmler placed his gloves on his desk before he excused Pressler and the other man. Both men saluted, marching outside where the unnamed man shut the door behind them.

Harry's throat was so very dry. He wasn't expecting anything like this.

"Y-you wanted to meet me, mein Reichsführer?" Harry stuttered.

Himmler seated himself in his chair. "I did," he said. "You are a," he paused, searching for the word, "special kind of wizard."

Harry's heart jumped. He was being praised. And by the Reichsführer, no less.

"I am?"

"You are," Himmler confirmed. He cleared his throat a little. "Only a special kind of wizard could survive the killing curse as you did."

Harry bit his lip, looking bashful.

"Why don't you sit down?"

Harry sat down.

"I don't think I am that special, mein Reichsführer." Harry tugged on his knuckles. "Even if I… did do something extraordinary," he winced; he hated being described that way, "I'm still just Harry."

Himmler stared at Harry from beneath his spectacles. "You shouldn't despise your status, Harry Potter. You are a better wizard than most, and you should thrive knowing that."

Himmler relaxed in his chair, crossing one leg over the other.

"English." The non-sequitur nearly gave Harry whiplash. "It's a dying tongue. How is your German?"

Harry was rather confident in it. "Just as good as my English, sir."

"Good. Let us talk using that." Himmler stood up and Harry watched as he went. "You should use it often. English will be wiped out in less than a decade."

"Really?" Harry looked gobsmacked.

"Indeed. We can't speak the same language as the Jews and Untermensch, it's repulsive."

Harry nodded like he understood, even if he didn't grasp it.

Himmler stepped up to his window, gazing out at the ants so far down. "Come here, I want to show you something."

Harry stood up and walked to the side of the Reichsführer. The man gestured to a large concrete building that stood out along the river.

"A clock tower stood there once. 'Big Ben', it was called. The mark of the Untermensch."

The name sounded familiar to Harry, but he couldn't pin down where he'd heard it before.

"It was a symbol of the rot on the isles, and so it fell." Himmler looked down at Harry. "That what makes you such a special wizard, Harry Potter. You purged the festering rot from our state."

Harry went red in embarrassment. He'd gotten the odd compliment about how he defeated Grindelwald when he was a baby, but the Reichsführer's comment was the one that meant the most to Harry.

"Thank you, sir. Can…" Harry hesitated, "Can I ask what Grindelwald did to the state?"

He didn't know if the Reichsführer was going to answer the question, the man silent for a long time.

"A traitor trying to tear down our system. He rallied Semites to his side and together, they were crushed. Grindelwald couldn't hurt the state, no matter how much he tried. After he died, precautions were taken to protect you."

Harry's jaw dropped. Precautions to protect him? Did someone really care that much about him?

"Protect me, sir?"

Himmler gave Harry a smile. "You are a very special boy, Harry Potter," he reminded him. "But, if you truly wish to leave your status behind, you may still be great."

Himmler stepped away from the window, grabbing a small glass of ice water that lay on a coaster on his desk.

Harry took his spectacles off to rub his eyes with his fingers. Everyone seemed to see Harry as nothing more than the Boy-Who-Lived, but the Reichsführer… why did it seem like he understood?

"I don't know how." Harry settled on saying.

Himmler took a sip of his water before setting it back down again.

"You can find a way. Once, I was Hitler's lapdog. The loyal servant of a decrepit old man that couldn't do what needed to be done," Himmler sneered, a crack in the mask.

Harry had heard about this in his history classes. It was touched on so often that he could practically recite it by heart.

But even still, hearing it all from the man himself was bubbling under the surface of his curiosity.

"So what did you do?" Harry asked even though he knew the answer.

Himmler's eyes slid over to Harry. "I tried to purge the rot festering within the Reich, starting with the Führer himself." He ran a hand along his desk. "My most loyal Schutzstaffel and I were exiled to these isles, destained to instead be separated from the continent."

Himmler took a step towards Harry, who took an instinctual step back. The Reichsführer-SS either didn't notice or didn't mind.

"These things happen from time to time, Harry. You'll need to make the best of it."

The door opened and a dark haired man entered the office. He had a bit of a thin face and his black hair hung over his left eye. Immediately, he stopped his movements and saluted.

"Heil Himmler!" the man saluted.

Himmler folded his hands behind his back, granting the newest man a smile. "Augustus."

"You called for me, mein Führer?" Augustus Rookwood questioned patiently.

Himmler answered in the affirmative and turned back to Harry. "It seems our time here is done. Pressler will escort you back out."

Harry saluted the Reichsführer-SS one more time. "Thank you, mein Reichsführer."

"Auf Wiedersehen."

Harry stepped out of the room, where Pressler instantly fell into place in front of him. The other man went back into the office and closed the door.

As soon as Harry stepped out of view, Himmler's facade of cordiality faded off his face, replaced by his characteristic expressionless features.

The Reichsführer stepped over to his desk without looking at Rookwood.

"Update on Trial Eight," he ordered as he slid his gloves back onto his hands.

Rookwood's eye gleamed with sadistic satisfaction. "Ready, mein Führer. I was just about to notify you."

Himmler picked his glass of water back up again, one hand behind his back. "You are aware of the price of failure?" He brought the glass to his lips.

Rookwood straightened himself out, his stare boring into the back of his leader. He let out a breath, and then said, "I know, mein Reichsführer."

Nervously, Rookwood watched as Himmler put his glass back down on the table. "Bring me to it."

Rookwood inclined his head in agreement. Himmler brushed past him, and his personal bodyguard, Wolfgang Zorn, fell into step behind him.

Stepping out of the office, all of the guards saluted the Reichsführer, and only stopped after he went into the elevator at the end of the corridor.

It wasn't long until the trio made it to the Abteilung für Mysterien. The doors opened with a ding and Rookwood took the lead.

Room by room they passed, each one an experiment headed by an Unspeakable. There was one room, an Unspeakable was expertly floating among replicas of the planets. Himmler never cared for what was up among the stars, not when there was so much to do down here.

So much to do, so little time.

Or so he thought.

It was a remarkable thing, to find that the occult was both exactly as and utterly different in what he expected to find.

Augustus Rookwood was a very useful man. The one that provided all the time in the world. But this project was larger than just one man, and if he failed it for the eighth time, then he would need to be replaced.

Rookwood led them into the primary room. Cables, electronics, and all sorts of other things were hooked up all over the place. They all connected to something that appeared similar to a cage made of glass. There was a chair in the center, and not a very comfortable one. Above, hooked up by the ceiling, was a device that was shaped in an 'X', but looked otherwise nondescript.

Rookwood leaned on a railing overlooking his testing facility, pressing his hands into the cold bar. "Here we are." Himmler walked up next to him, examining the room. "I've taken a few liberties in expanding," he gestured to the walls.

Rookwood stepped away from the railing. He started down a set of tiled stairs.

"This way," Rookwood called.

"Heil Himmler!" Unspeakables and soldiers alike saluted sharply as Himmler descended. The Reichsführer mirrored the action before dropping his hand.

Rookwood shouted some orders and the Unspeakables jumped into action.

"We'll be bringing in the subject shortly."

Rookwood stepped behind a control panel, flicking a few switches, and suddenly the room burst to life.

Lights turned the dark room from black to white in an instant, and the device hanging over the seat started steadily moving in a circular motion.

A machine shook rapidly, over and over again, and something rolled off of it, shattering on the ground.

The glass one-way windows began to rattle in their frames, threatening to shatter should the experiment go completely wrong.

And throughout it all, Himmler neither said a word nor changed his blank expression in the slightest.

Rookwood brought his hand along the panel, sliding his finger down, down, down until it reached the button he'd wanted. He pointed his finger, twirled it dramatically, and then pushed on it.

A helmet with a pipe connected into the back of it shifted, the smooth steel on the top cracking open to reveal ports for wires and other types of material to go.

"No! Please, stop!" the voice of a young boy shouted out. Rookwood glanced back to see both a soldier and an Unspeakable roughly gripping a boy still in his school uniform.

The Chief Unspeakable nodded to them as they passed, pressing another button on his panel. The click of a metal door unlocking filled his ears, and the duo dragged the boy into the glass room.

"What're you doing!?" the boy cried, before being thrown into the chair. The soldier held his arms in place, clicking the chair's cuffs around his wrist.

Rookwood scanned over the blocky screen. He needed to make sure everything went as it was supposed to.

"Please, you must've gotten the wrong kid! I didn't do anything!"

The cries were starting to get on Rookwood's nerves. He dropped his head down to the room's microphone. "Steffen Kornfuß."

The boy, Kornfuß, went silent, frantically looking around at each glass window. Which one had someone behind it?

"Please, I didn't do anything," he finally whispered after a great moment of silence. His other arm was locked in.

Rookwood took a glance at his notes.

"Your insubordination at my alma mater has provided an issue. We've decided to nip it in the bud," Rookwood revealed, reverting back to English.

"Your… what?" Kornfuß was at a loss for a moment, doing nothing as his leg was locked into a cuff. "Because I broke rules at school?" And so went his other leg. "Where's… What about everyone else?"

"You were the one selected," Rookwood decided to say, watching as the subject had the helmet put on his head, and a bond around his throat.

If Rookwood's words were meant to placate Kornfuß, then they failed masterfully. "Please, please, I'm sorry. I won't ever do it again, please!" he pleaded through tears that ran down his cheeks.

The Unspeakable adjusted the helmet, and then forced the pipe connected to it further.

Kornfuß hissed. "W-what is that?"

Rookwood leaned a little bit closer to his microphone. "Some physical changes had to have been made for the experiment."

A look of complete and unconditional horror spread across Kornfuß's face. "What are you doing?" he asked quietly, and then repeated it much louder. "What're you doing to me!?"

The Unspeakable pushed wires into the top of the helmet near Kornfuß's back, and followed it with a vial that looked similar to a light bulb, plugging them into the front end of the helmet.

"Leave me alone!" Kornfuß pleaded and shouted. "Why are you doing this!?"

Rookwood made no attempt to reply, watching instead as the Unspeakable and the soldier slipped out of the room. He pressed the button again and the metal door banged shut, the lock clicking in finality.

The Chief Unspeakable sucked in a breath, placing his hands on the dials on his control panel that, so far, went unused. Steadily, he started turning them to the right.

Kornfuß bit his tongue, forced to stop his cries as a torrent of electricity flooded through him. He didn't understand what was happening. Why was this happening?

The device above the chair started to spin faster and faster the more Rookwood turned the dials. How far could he push it? How far was he going to push it?

Kornfuß couldn't hold it in anymore. It felt like something was fusing with the back of his head. He screamed in agony.

Just a little bit further, Rookwood decided, twisting the dials one notch, two notches, and a third one. He jumped back a foot for precaution.

A spark of what resembled electricity shot out of the overhanging machine, striking Kornfuß in the chest, redoubled the boy's cries of pain.

Rookwood couldn't tell if the ground was truly shaking from the amount of power they were using, or if it was just his imagination.

Another. Another. Another. They kept coming now, colliding with Kornfuß's body. It wasn't harmful enough to kill, it didn't seem. Truly fascinating.

The lights started to flicker, and Rookwood jumped back forward to turn the dials back down before all their progress was lost.

There was no climactic end, just a slow ticking clock as the machine powered down. It was underwhelming, to be honest.

Still, Rookwood opened the metal door again and went through himself this time.

Kornfuß was breathing heavily in the chair, without any form of strength to do so much as open his eyes.

Rookwood reached for the top of the helmet with a gloved hand - he'd made sure to put one on before going in - and twisted the vial off. His heart pounded heavily. It had to have worked. It must've.

He lifted the vial into his view and he nearly fainted. A large grin grew across his face.

A purple sort of mist filled the small glass container, and an occasional blast of what could only be described as blue electricity bounced off the glass, like a storm stuck in a bottle.

"Mein Führer," Rookwood said as he held the glass up to where he knew Himmler was watching from, "It worked! We have harvested magic!"

On the other side of the glass, Himmler smiled.

---

Harry felt like he was walking on air by the time he returned to Hogwarts. The day passed by very quickly, even though Harry had lots of work to do.

The Reichsführer saw something in Harry. It meant so much to him. It was more than he could have ever asked for. He'd never been given any kind of recognition like that before.

He hadn't had the time to tell Ron or Daphne what had happened. The teachers had gotten a Vertrauensschüler to help him do his schoolwork, and Harry was left to stare longingly after Ron and Daphne whenever he saw them.

Eventually, though, day faded into night and Harry was allowed to go back to his Common Room. He didn't want to go to sleep yet, he had so much to think about.

The Common Room was dim and rather quiet with only a few students about. And fortunately, none of them was Cassius.

Harry went over to the fireplace and pointed his wand at the wood. "Incendio!" he recited with the practiced movements. Just as he hoped, a spark of fire shot from the tip and lit the wood alight.

Harry cracked a small smile and sat down on the floor, making sure to put a foot or two of distance between himself and the flames.

He wondered what Ron and Daphne would say when he told them. Would they see him differently? He hoped not.

A tiny, almost insignificant part of his head asked him if the Reichsführer really meant what he said. If he truly cared about Harry or he was lying, just like when those kids lied to him just to be hurtful.

Of course he meant it, Harry mentally reassured himself. There was no point in an adult lying to him, right? Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were always truthful to him, even if they weren't particularly nice things, it was all still true.

An image flashed through the forefront of Harry's mind. Of a man so thin his ribs could be seen, and his face sunken in a way that his skin hugged his skull so thoroughly.

"Alright, Harry?"

Harry shook the image away and looked over at the boy who stood a little aways.

Rolf had a concerned expression on his face, his head was slightly tilted to the side and he was fiddling with a button on his robes.

Harry nodded. He hadn't seen Rolf at all since he was found by him and put in the Hospital Wing. It wasn't something he was looking forward to talking about.

"Mind if I sit here?" Rolf pointed a finger next to Harry.

Harry shook his head this time.

Rolf bent over to sit down next to Harry. He curled his legs up to his chin, hugging his arms around his knees.

The crackling sound of fire filled the little bubble of the Common Room that Harry and Rolf inhabited. It was a very peaceful sort of thing that succeeded in numbing Harry's nerves. The warmth radiated onto his body and he was tempted to fall asleep right here next to the fireplace.

Rolf held up one hand next to the fire, warming himself up just a little bit. He looked at Harry out of the corner of his eye.

"Are you alright?" he asked in a hushed tone. "Sorry, I know you've been getting it from your friends enough." When Harry looked at him, he shrugged his shoulders unapologetically.

"Yeah, I'm okay," Harry whispered back. And he was. Nothing hurt anymore, Schwester Pomfrey had been thorough about it.

Rolf dropped his hand back to his knees. "It was a cowardly thing to do, hurting a younger student. It should never have happened."

"It was an accident," Harry said automatically.

Harry didn't understand the expression that crossed Rolf's face. "Right. You don't sustain those kinds of injuries from falling down some stairs, Harry."

Harry fidgeted with his robes button, unaware that he was copying Rolf's earlier actions. "I got a spell wrong, nothing happened," he told Rolf as nonchalantly as he could manage.

"Is that what you told Schwester Pomfrey?" Rolf scooted a little bit closer to Harry, bending his knees to lean on. "I know that's not true, Harry. It's not something to be ashamed of."

Harry looked away, frowning. That, apparently, was enough confirmation for Rolf.

"Why didn't you tell Schwester Pomfrey? Whoever did it, they'll probably be expelled."

How could he respond to this? Harry rapidly searched through his mind to find an answer that would please the older boy. When he came up with nothing, he desperately whispered, "Don't tell anyone."

Rolf gazed at Harry confusedly. Maybe he could learn why Harry felt he shouldn't tell anyone about who hurt him, but why did he try to reject his help?

The longer Rolf thought about how to respond, the more Harry worried. He couldn't let anyone know. Cassius would tell everyone about what he learned, and then the entire school would hate him just like Cassius did.

After what seemed like years to Harry, Rolf reassured him, "I won't say anything." And just with those few words, Harry relaxed just a bit.

He looked at Rolf, deciding on what to tell him and what to lead out. He deflated, whispering, "Somebody attacked me."

Rolf didn't look at all surprised. "Who?" Harry didn't answer and Rolf tried again, "Why?" Again, Harry was less than inclined to tell him. Rolf dropped his chin on his knee.

A swelling of sound suddenly filled the Common Room before it quickly fell back down again. Harry looked to find what was happening, but all he saw was Fred and George pouring over something on the table.

"What're they doing?" Harry asked in the hopes to change the subject.

Rolf looked over, too. "They're trying to find out who…" he trailed off, searching for the right word, "who put the stuff up on the wall."

How were they doing that, Harry wondered.

"They're under the impression that they can impress the Reichsführer if they catch whoever did it."

Harry blinked and turned to the fire, noticing then that it was dying. He rubbed his eyes from under his glasses. "I'm going to bed," he told Rolf, standing up.

Rolf watched as he stood. "Sleep well, Harry," he said. "Remember, you don't have to go through this alone. Sleep on it, ja?"

Harry gave the Schulsprecher a nod, and sleepily walked to his bed, and very quickly fell asleep.

In just a few short hours, September turned to October and soon, Harry woke and made his way down to the Common Room. A smile made its way onto his face, noticing that both Daphne and Ron were already there, waiting for him.

"Heil Himmler, Harry," Ron greeted. The trio started off to the Great Hall.

"Heil Himmler," Harry responded.

"All caught up on your work, then?" Ron asked.

Harry gave a small nod. "Some of it, yeah."

"It's kinda unfair, isn't it," Ron complained. "That you still have to do all this work after what happened."

"The system waits for nobody," Daphne dully said.

"Well, still."

"It's alright," Harry told him. "I've almost caught back up."

"You'd probably catch up more if you didn't have that meeting," Ron grumbled.

"Speaking of," Daphne jumped in, "what was that meeting about?"

Harry surveyed the corridor his friends and he walked down. He didn't know exactly why he did it. This wasn't something to be ashamed of or hide, right?

Still, Harry lowered his voice and told his friends, "Professor Friend took me to the Reichstag."

"Really?" an intrigued Ron asked.

Harry nodded in confirmation. "He took me to meet with the Reichsführer-SS," he revealed, deciding to just state his surprise rather than hold onto it for a little longer.

A look of awe spread across Ron's features, but Daphne still remained impossibly inscrutable.

"Wow!" Ron breathed. "What was he like!? Was he just like they say he is!?"

They rounded through the door into the Great Hall and sat down at the Slytherin table. Harry explained to Ron and Daphne how kind the Reichsführer was to him.

"I think you were right, Daphne," he told the girl.

Daphne looked up from picking her Frühstück out. She hummed in question.

"That the Reichsführer was stopping the media from talking about me and finding me. I think he's been providing me privacy and stuff."

Daphne stared at Harry for a moment, then dropped her sapphire eyes down to her food. "There's no such thing as privacy, Harry."

Harry started. "W-what do you mean?"

Daphne let the question simmer, taking her tea and sipping it to allow her to think of an appropriate answer. "The Reichsführer has been keeping an eye on you?"

"I think so, yeah."

"I don't think you've a real moment of privacy, then. How did you get your letter?"

"My Hogwarts letter?" Daphne nodded slowly. "A man in a suit knocked on the door and gave it to me, that's it."

Daphne frowned and sat back in her chair.

"I think you're seeing things that aren't there," Ron's muffled voice came around a mouthful of bread.

The girl allowed the subject to be dropped, but Harry couldn't help wondering if she was right. How close of an eye was the Reichsführer keeping on him?

More students filtered into the Great Hall one after the other. Tracey Davis and Morag MacDougal entered the Hall looking melancholic. They had been looking increasingly sad since their friend, the Kornfuß bloke, was taken out of school.

Harry started grabbing a piece of bread and tore a small piece off. He put it in his mouth and started chewing, smiling at Ron as Fred and George came over to bother their brother.

Professor Friend took the podium on the elevated platform, gathering the attention of a smattering of students.

When no one else noticed the Schulleiter, pointed his wand at his throat, and a commanding, "Quiet," rumbled through the chamber. Instantly, all conversations stopped and all heads turned to him.

Friend scanned over the population of teens and young adults. Not every single student was here, but it would do.

"I have an announcement to make to the First Years. For those that are not here, you will notify them of what I have shared." He saw Vertrauensschüler and Vertrauensschülerinnen give nods. "From tomorrow forth, anyone caught writing or reading English will be punished severely."

More than a few students looked at their friends or drop their mouths open in surprise and shock.

"Books written in the English language are now, from today forth, banned. Anyone caught with one will be severely punished."

Harry managed his surprise, looking to gauge Ron and Daphne's reactions. They both shared the same feeling he had: surprise, confusion, and shock.

"We will be celebrating a tradition of ours tonight. Every single English book and paper will be burned at the mittlerer Hof, at precisely supper, and will go on until curfew."

Friend steepled his fingers, threading his wand between two knuckles.

"I expect to see each and every First Year there tonight. There will be no exceptions." Friend lowered his hands just a bit.

Harry tilted his head down. What books did he have that were written in English?

"Now. Pay attention carefully. I have a list of names that I want to talk to privately." Friend procured a scroll from seemingly thin air. "Peregrine Derrick. Ulysses Wyllan. Astrid Birch. Marcus Belby. Miles Bletchley. Oliver Wood. Roger Davies. Patricia Stimpson. Joffrey Sinclair. Cedric Diggory. Danielle Winslow. Sean Axworthy."

One by one, individuals from each table stood up and went to the back of the Great Hall. Their shoes were deafening in the completely silent room.

When Friend was done, the scroll vanished again, and he marched down the center of the tables until he disappeared out of the room. The line of students followed him silently.

Slowly, volume in the Great Hall picked back up again.

"What was that?" Harry asked, concerned.

"Oh, that?" Fred or George voiced, bringing Harry's attention to the twins. They'd made themselves at home sitting on the other side of Ron.

"That, Harriekins, were students that get selected to have their background looked into," the other one said.

"Oh." Harry paused. "To make sure none of them are Jews?"

"Now he's gettin' it!" the twin that hadn't spoken said.

"Jews, Slavs, or any other Untermensch."

Something didn't sit right with Harry about that. A feeling in his gut that there was something there.

He pushed it away as far as he could.

"What's our first class again?" Harry asked his friends.

"Geschichte der Magie."

"Right. Let's go."

The trio of friends left the Great Hall and made it to their class without incident. It had yet to be started, and Professor Podmore had decided he wouldn't let his students inside until the start of the hour.

The only ones lined up in front of the door were Hermine von Granger and the small clique she'd created for herself.

Harry held in a groan at seeing her.

Granger looked up from her timeline. She started to speak and Fink and Corner fell silent from their whispered dialogue.

"Herr Potter." She angled her head. "Heil Himmler."

"Heil Himmler," Harry replied.

"I was reading the most interesting thing about Untermensch the other day," Granger said to Corner and Fink, but never took her eyes off Harry. "They try to blend in with the rest of us; pretend to be one of us. But there is something that lets us sniff them out. Do you know what that is?"

Enraptured, Fink shook his head. "Nein."

Granger gave a tiny smirk. "It's that they are too inferior to even think like their betters. It's why my family caught some, pretending. Can you guess what they found when they cut open the skin?"

Harry was fully paying the girl attention now.

Seeing she had their attention, she said, "Organs moving like snakes. Can you believe that? Like snakes!"

Harry opened his mouth, then shut it. Did she…

Ron had definitely caught on, as had Daphne. But the former was the only one to say anything.

"Yeah? Is that what makes you so noble, then?" Ron muttered with a roll of his eyes.

"If you must know," Granger sneered in English, surprising not just Ron, but Harry, Daphne, and the rest in hearing range, too, "My father caught a truck full of the Judenschwein!"

That feeling of sickness slammed into Harry's gut, leaving him with almost no room to breathe. Why? Why was that happening?

Harry wasn't able to say anything, the door to the classroom opening just in time. He felt a reassuring hand on his shoulder that belonged to Ron, who seemed to notice him go pale for a moment.

Together with the rest of the class that had gathered, they shuffled through the door into the room, and subsequently took their seats.

Taking his own seat beside Ron, Harry glanced at Daphne, who was sitting just behind them. Harry put his Geschichte der Magie book on the desk in preparation.

Professor Podmore sat at his desk with a book open in front of him. As the last student came in, he picked it up and told them, "Turn to page one-hundred two."

The class did what they were told, and the page read, in big, bolded German letters, 'The Goblin Rebellion of '53'.

Harry stared at the page. He couldn't remember anyone ever mentioning a goblin ever before.

Professor Podmore started a slow pace around the classroom. "Can anyone tell me about the Goblin Rebellion of '53?"

Harry looked at Ron, who shrugged.

Then, Susanne Knochen raised a hand.

"Fräulein Knochen?" Podmore gestured.

Knochen folded her hands over the other in front of herself. "It was a short-lived rebellion perpetuated by the goblins shortly after the end of the Statute of Secrecy."

"A very vague answer," Podmore noted. "But correct. Five points to Slytherin." Knochen beamed. "After the Reichsführer-SS destroyed the Statute of Secrecy, the goblins tried to fight against our noble people. Can anyone tell me why?"

This time, Granger raised a hand.

"Fräulein Granger?"

"Because the goblins were greedy, cowardly beasts that thought they could take over the world."

Podmore nodded throughout her explanation. "Very astute. Five points to Ravenclaw." He stopped near Daphne's desk. "The goblins thought that we'd be weak and not ready for them.

"The Reichsführer-SS proved them all wrong. Their insurgency barely lasted a month," he told them. "They were put down appropriately, and went extinct thereafter."

Podmore put a hand on Daphne's shoulder, and the girl went stiff.

"Just like the rest of the Untermenschen, the goblins thought they'd be able to rid the noble Aryan." Podmore put a finger under Daphne's chin, forcefully turning her head left and right. "But the Reichsführer-SS crushed them beneath his boot."

Podmore let Daphne go, resuming his pacing. Only Harry and Ron noticed Daphne's furious glare at their teacher.

"Does the name Cragnvaldr the Terrible ring any bells?" Podmore asked, scanning the class. "Not that surprising. It was the despicable goblin that led the insurgency against us."

Harry looked down at his book, flipping a few pages quietly. The final passages of the section stated that the cowardly goblin leader, Cragnvaldr the Terrible, was executed by gassing.

He skimmed over the rest quickly, basically reiterating what Podmore had already said. That the Goblin Rebellion of '53 barely lasted a month before it was put down.

As it stands today, the entirety of the goblins have gone extinct.

"We'll read over the passages together," Podmore was saying, and Harry looked back up at his teacher, flipping his pages back. "I'll even let you take this time to add to your timeline."

Harry couldn't help but wonder about how the goblins were eradicated. That there were no more of them around.

An entire kind of creature were destroyed, and Harry felt a traitorous pang of sympathy for them.

The topic of the Goblin Rebellion of '53 soon turned into the 'Goblin Persecution', in which Podmore went on and on about how bravely the state solved the goblin problem.

"Systematically, the goblin beasts were terminated until not one could come after the blood of Aryan children ever again."

Sally-Anne Perks hugged herself. "They did that, Professor?" she asked meekly.

Podmore looked like he was about to reprimand the girl for speaking out of turn, but instead said, "Did I not mention that?" He scanned the room as if he was looking for confirmation.

A few teens, Granger included, shook their heads.

"Well, it's true. The blood of the Aryan provided goblins with a great sustenance. So they hunted down those children, feasting upon the ones they could get."

More than a few students looked outraged at the revelation.

Podmore went back to his desk. "Now, if you'll hand in your timelines, we can move on to the end of our lesson."

Almost as a single unit, the students began standing up with their pieces of parchment, and walked up to the front desk to turn it in.

"That's insane," Ron whispered to Harry. "I never knew that."

"About the goblins?"

"What else! I mean, what if they went after other kinds of families!? My family?"

"Hey, the goblins went extinct, remember?" Harry said in an attempt to reassure Ron.

They handed in their pages and returned to their seats. Harry saw that Ron didn't look very convinced.

"Now then," Podmore started, waving his wand so the stack of timelines straightened up. "Your project for the next few weeks involves partners."

There were a few looks of glee at the announcement. Ron perked up a bit.

"Best not to get too excited," Podmore warned them. "I'm the one choosing your partners."

The students that previously had looks of glee was swiftly replaced by deflation.

"Your assignment is an essay detailing who, in your opinion, sequestered the Aryan people the most. The goblins, or Adolf Hitler."

Harry noticed Granger adopt a thoughtful look.

"I will call two names in succession, and the two of you will be partners." Podmore picked up a piece of parchment beside the stack of timelines.

Harry's teacher started reading over the list of names, and the longer Harry went without being named, the more he worried he'd be paired with someone like Granger.

In the end, however, his worries ended up being for naught.

"Harry Potter and Daphne Greengrass."

Ron, on the other hand, hadn't been so lucky.

"Hermine von Granger and Ronald Weasley."

Harry and Ron exchanged a look.

The class ended a few minutes later, and Podmore excused them, allowing them to file back out the door.

"But what if goblins did go after magical families?" Ron asked Daphne and Harry once they'd started walking. His anxiety from earlier had returned full force. "Charlie would've been just born!"

"Hey, listen, the goblins are extinct, remember? They can't hurt you or your family."

"Not anymore, but what if they did back then? Like, what if they went after magical kids?"

Daphne muttered something that Harry couldn't make out, and then a tad more loudly said, "Goblins eating Aryan children, it's not true."

Even though the words were quiet, and that they were the only ones who could hear them, they felt like they echoed down the corridor.

Ron's mouth clicked.

"It's not?" Ron quietly voiced.

"No," Daphne replied dully. "They never have. They had far too much self-respect to do something like that."

Ron and Harry looked at her curiously, but that's all she said on it and the topic was dropped.

The rest of the day was truly nothing special and soon, the sun was setting on the horizon, purging the day of light.

Harry and Daphne had returned to the Great Hall together with their English books. Ron stayed back for the time being to finish an assignment before he collected his things.

Sitting down, a portion of the plates around them filled with food for supper.

Daphne took her time to fill her plates. "What did you think of Geschichte der Magie?" she inquired.

To be honest, Harry didn't know what to think. Goblins were completely eradicated, destroyed. A, what was the word? A species of creature.

Daphne had told him that goblins didn't eat children, despite what Professor Podmore had said. He knew Daphne better than Podmore, even if the man was a teacher, he believed her more than him.

"How did you know that about goblins?" Harry quietly asked. Nobody seemed to be paying him and Daphne any attention.

Daphne paused for a moment, like she was debating on what she should tell him. She slid a piece of meat into her mouth, taking a discreet look around and came to the conclusion that nobody was listening to them. She swallowed.

"I met a goblin once."

"But they've gone extinct," he argued, though after what she told Ron, he wasn't entirely sure.

"They have," Daphne agreed. "Father had it killed. But it didn't try to devour me or my sister."

Harry dropped his eyes to the table, and took a bite of bread. When he finished, he asked her, "How did you meet one?"

A guarded look entered Daphne's eye. "Does it matter?"

Harry supposed it didn't.

"I was ten at the time. My sister, Astoria, was seven. We were the prime ages for a goblin, but it did nothing."

Why the lie then? If goblins didn't actually do what Podmore claimed they did, then why lie at all?

How much else did Podmore lie about?

Daphne looked behind Harry. "Looks like they're back."

Harry rotated in his seat, watching as the students from the beginning of the day returned. He noticed, however, that there were a few missing students among them.

One of the Slytherin girls returned to her clique of friends. She had a proud look on her face, announcing to them that she was officially now 'Peregrina Dittrich'.

"Can we still call you Peregrine?" one of her friends asked after hugging her.

The girl answered in the negative.

Harry faintly remembered then that Friend called for 'Peregrine Derrick' among the other students.

"Where's Wyllan?" one of the girls asked, leaning upwards to try and find the boy.

One of the girls made an exaggerated look of adoration. "Oh, does someone want so badly to see their crush?" The girl blushed.

Peregrina Dittrich, on the other hand, did not look pleased. Her face curled up in a sneer. "Don't bother. He was nothing but a filthy Jew."

The clique went very silent all of a sudden. The girl who'd been looking went from blushing red to extremely white.

"No… Ulysses? I…"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," one of the other girls said, putting an arm around her friend's shoulder.

Peregrina Dittrich's scowl faded instantaneously, sliding into the seat next to her friend. Their conversation turned to quiet whispers, and Harry couldn't hear what they were saying any further.

But the idea was insane! A Jew, inside the school? How could that have ever happened!?

Daphne had a strange look on her face, but she smothered it back into a neutral expression so fast Harry wasn't sure if he'd seen things.

Professor Friend, finishing a whispered conversation of his own, pointed his wand to his throat. "The bonfire will be starting now. First Years, and anyone else who has found an English book, make your way to the mittlerer Hof."

Harry and Daphne gathered their books and followed the other First Years that stood up out to the mittlerer Hof.

It was an open courtyard and in the center were piles and piles of books.

A few students, including Fred and George, and Gerhard, were sitting on benches on the sidelines. Cassius wasn't among them.

Friend came entered the courtyard and the teens parted for him. He pointed his wand at the books and a beam of light shot from it, igniting the books.

All at once, the books were aflame.

A few of the older students quickly went forward, tossing the books they held into the pile with a whoop or cheer.

The teens followed the lead of the older students, hurling books into the fire.

Friend watched, a small smile growing on his face. What a beautiful thing it was, to see his students take part in tradition.

His eyes slid over the older students that were taking part and his smile went away. They were having a casual conversation and, completely thoughtlessly, threw a book to the fire.

The younger students may respect the tradition more, but the older ones had no idea how important such a thing was.

"Professor," someone said, and Friend looked at the person who'd gained his attention. It was a teen holding out a book for him.

Friend took it and gave the teen a nod. He reared his arm back and threw it into the flames, and it began to burn amongst the rest.

He started to circle the courtyard. He needed to think, and he needed to see just how much the sanctity of this tradition was being preserved.

Ron Weasley flew into the courtyard with a face almost as red as his hair. He let out a small huff, hugging the books he'd brought close to his chest so he didn't drop them. He spotted Daphne and Harry easily enough and joined them.

"You took your time," Harry told him when he was close enough.

Out of breath, Ron just shook his head and lay his books down at their feet.

From the corner of Harry's eye, he noticed Granger gleefully throwing book after book into the fire.

"From here on in," Professor Friend stated, and Harry looked at him as he bent to pick a book up, "all books not endorsed by the state, or in our official language will be burned."

Harry turned the book in his hands. He could remember his relatives doing something similar to this with their neighbors, but Harry never was allowed to take part. They thought that it would help their reputation or something if they hid that they had a magical forced to live with them. Even if he was the Boy-Who-Lived.

Harry rolled his eyes. For the title that had apparently dictated his life since he was a year old, and his relatives who treated him not so well.

He threw the book into the pile, watching as it became fuel for the ever growing flames.

"All across the Ordensstaat, malicious books are being burned and destroyed. The people who have given you these," Friend held up an English textbook, "will be receiving the dues they deserve in their attempt to tell you lies."

Harry picked up another book and threw it.

"But it's made you stronger, hasn't it? All of you, as students, now know what signs to look out for when a book begins to lie." Friend spun on his heel and launched the textbook into the fire.

But if Podmore lied to his students, how accurate could these books be, Harry wondered. He learned from an early age that German books were far more reliable than any of the ones written in English, except for ones that were just the German book rewritten in English.

It was a concept Harry didn't understand, though. Why destroy the books that were just translated versions of the German one?

Despite it all, though, Harry continued to obediently throw book after book into the hungry inferno.

So lost in thought he was that he didn't notice Daphne stare down at a small copy of a book titled 'The Tales of Beedle the Bard'. She threw another book into the fire without looking where it landed.

Taking a discreet scan of the courtyard, Daphne determined that no one was paying any attention to her. She dropped down to her knees, picking up the fairytale book and another unnamed one she didn't care for, and lobbed it into the fire as she slid the fairytale book into her pocket.

Straightening herself back to her feet, she rubbed the dirt off her knees and, like nothing happened at all, continued to throw books into the burning pile.

The night dwindled to day, which turned to night, and so on the pattern went until nearly a month had passed by.

It was a surprisingly dull thing. There were no words being put up on walls, just as no similar event happened. Harry, for one thing, strayed to more populated corridors and with his friends to avoid being ambushed by Cassius again, who'd been extremely quiet.

The Geschichte der Magie project provided a small bit of entertainment from Ron, who regaled Harry and Daphne with stories about working with Granger.

But there was no stopping it and soon the final day of October was amongst them.

It was a day Harry didn't know how to feel about. People celebrated it as the day Grindelwald died, but it was also the day Harry's parents were killed.

He knew it was expected of him to smile and nod whenever the day came. The Dursleys made sure of that. The one day of the year that they really acknowledged that he existed.

Despite all that history that followed it like a plague, it remained a rather boring day with little difference between it and the usual day without classes. The only difference this time was that there was to be a Feast that all students were obligated to participate in.

The trio sat down in the middle of the Common Room. Ron had practically dragged Daphne over to help Harry play chess against him.

The blonde, however, instead delegated her time to reading a small book on the couch across from them.

"Knight to E5," Harry commanded, and the piece slid across the board on its own accord.

Daphne glanced up from her book. "Terrible move."

Harry gave her a look of exasperation.

"Queen to E5," Ron replied with a bit of a smug grin.

The queen piece slid into the knight and it sprung to life, taking itself out of its chair, and swinging it into the knight, shattering it to pieces.

Harry winced as more than a few of his pieces looked desperately at him.

As soon as the broken knight was moved off the board, it automatically reassembled itself, but not without glaring at Harry.

"See, at least Daphne knows that that was bad," Ron told him with a grin.

Harry shook his head, cracking a grin of his own. "I suck at chess."

"I can tell," Ron chuckled.

Harry looked at Daphne, who hadn't looked back up from her book. "What're you reading?" he asked.

Daphne's blue gaze flicked up to Harry. She shut the book with a thud, saying, "Nothing."

"Doesn't look like 'nothing'."

Daphne slipped the small book into her pocket. She leaned forward. "King to E2."

The king piece, with a look of complete defeat, did as he was told.

Ron blinked. "You've just put yourself in check."

"Whoops," Daphne said flatly. She leaned back in her seat.

The Common Room entrance opened, drawing the trio's attention.

Maynard Hatton, a Slytherin in the year above them, came in with an owl floating behind him. It scanned the Common Room before its eyes landed on Harry, and it flew past Hatton, throwing his hair into disarray as it pushed past.

The owl landed beside the chess set and stuck its leg out, showing a piece of parchment that had been tied to it.

"How long was that owl out there for?" Ron asked to no one.

Harry looked at Daphne, who had stopped paying attention to what was happening in front of her, having reopened her book.

Hesitantly, Harry unraveled the parchment from the bird and, seeing his name written in curvy, letters opened it.

'Seventh Floor at the tapestry of the Man with the Iron Heart. Now.

'Heil Himmler, Pullox Friend'.

Harry stared hard down at the piece of parchment. Right now? So close to the Feast?

"I've got a meeting with Professor Friend," Harry told Ron and Daphne, showing them the parchment.

Daphne looked back up from her book. "Now? The Feast is in twenty minutes."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, now."

Ron rearranged his chess pieces for a new game, then stood up. "He can't be keeping you too long, then, right?"

"Probably not," Daphne acquiesced.

"We can walk you to his office, if you want."

"Oh, not his office this time," Harry told them, taking another peek at the parchment. "The Seventh Floor. What's up there?"

"Nothing," Daphne replied.

"You looked?"

Daphne neither confirmed nor denied that, putting her book back into her pocket. "It's this way," she said, and started walking out into the corridor.

Harry and Ron hurried to keep up with her pace.

The further they walked along the halls of Hogwarts, the less people they say. A few different portraits watched them as they went, and an even smaller amount of them waving and greeting them as they passed.

"You ever wonder why Hogwarts has so many classrooms?" Ron asked as they reached a set of moving stairs.

Harry had noticed that, but he hadn't put too much thought into it.

"No," he admitted to Ron. "Maybe whoever built the school thought they'd put more teachers in charge."

"Seems like an expensive mistake," Daphne cut in. "How much Reichsmark would that cost, do you reckon?"

"A lot," Harry offered and Ron snickered.

A pause of silence.

"Who built Hogwarts, anyway?"

"I don't know," Daphne replied with a delicate shrug of her shoulders.

"Oh. What about you, Ron?"

"Huh?" Ron snapped out of looking at a statue of a knight, the Black Sun standing out on his bicep. "Oh, I dunno," he said once he'd realized what he'd been asked.

"Think Professor Friend would know?" Harry asked, avoiding a trick step by mimicking Daphne's movements.

"It's best you don't ask," Daphne warned instead. She glanced at Harry and Ron from over her shoulder. "If you don't know something that most people would wonder about, then it's probably a question that should be left unanswered."

Harry wasn't sure that knowledge like that shouldn't be shared. It seemed like a stupid thing to hide away from people. Or maybe it was just something that only Übermensch were allowed to know, because the rest of them aren't worth it enough.

Whether the case, Harry wouldn't dig into it. For now.

They arrived on the Seventh Floor, and Daphne had been right. There were no classrooms up here, just an empty corridor with no portraits, and piles of parchment discarded on the floor.

At the end of it was a tapestry of a blond man standing tall amongst the people cowering behind him. The city behind him wasn't one Harry had ever seen before.

"That's the tapestry," Harry told his friends as they made it to the end of the corridor.

The three looked around, but none of them saw Professor Friend in sight.

"Professor Friend?" Harry called.

"I don't think he's here," Ron said, poking at the tapestry to see if there was a hidden passageway behind it. There wasn't.

"The note said that this was the place."

"Maybe he's late?" Ron suggested.

"No," Daphne countered, "not so close to the Feast."

"I don't understand."

Harry paused, seeming to realize something that his two friends hadn't.

"Wait." He looked at Daphne. "Last time, he gave me the note through you," he said, gesturing to her with the note. "And last time, the note was paper, not parchment."

"So, what does that mean?"

"I-I don't know-"

"It means," a new voice entered the conversation. A voice that Harry had done his absolute hardest to stay away from.

Harry, Ron, and Daphne turned from each other, following where the voice had come from. Harry didn't think his heart had ever pounded so fast.

A disillusionment charm faded away off of the body of Cassius Warrington, who'd they'd walked right past without noticing when they entered the corridor.

The older student had his arms outstretched, wand in his right hand, and the other balled into a fist.

"It means that Professor Friend didn't call for you, I did."

Harry took his wand out with shaking hands. Daphne and Ron, after seeing it, did the same.

Ron's brain finally seemed to really catch up. "Cassius? What're you doing?" He lowered his wand only slightly.

"It was him," Harry admitted all at once. Daphne and Ron glanced from Cassius to Harry. "He was the one that put me in the Hospital Wing."

Ron balked and Daphne's pale skin turned whiter.

"Why would you do that?" Ron whispered. "How could you do that to someone."

Cassius's eyes lit up. "So you didn't tell them. Not a thing!" He gave a laugh that Ron had never heard before from the good friend of his brothers. "I thought for sure you would. Cowardly Jew!"

"What is he talking about, Harry?" Ron asked because Daphne wasn't saying a word. He lifted his wand back up.

"I don't know! He knows something about me, but I don't know-"

"You don't know!?" Cassius laughed again. A horrible, grating laugh that made the trio grimace. "You two really don't know a thing, do you!?"

"Why don't you enlighten us?" Daphne hissed, her wand held the most calmly of the three.

Cassius flickered a glance at Harry. "You've seemed to have everyone fooled, Potter, but not me. I heard what you and Weasley were talking about. Maybe you were trying to gauge how many people knew."

"Stop with the cryptic shit," Daphne sneered. It was the first time Harry and Ron had heard her curse.

"Fine." Cassius gestured with his wand dramatically. "Your dear friend, Harry Potter, put up the message on the wall. Your dear friend, Harry Potter, has been with the 'resistance' and is their spy in the school. Your dear friend, Harry Potter, is nothing but a traitor. A filthy Jew in human skin."

Harry was in disbelief. He couldn't keep the emotion in even if he tried.

"That's what this is about?" Harry lowered his wand an inch, taking a step back from the amount of information that was unloaded onto him, and the puzzle came together. "Where'd you come to that conclusion from? You're so incredibly wrong."

Cassius frowned. "You still deny it, then?"

"Of course I deny it! I didn't do it!" Harry felt a laugh of incredulity bubble up in his throat.

Cassius sneered. "Of course you deny it. It's all you Jews are good for." He took a step forward, pointing his wand at Harry. "I've tried so hard to get you alone, but you've been smart about it, haven't you."

Harry looked unsurely at Daphne and Ron, but they firmly stood at his side.

"Sticking with your friends. Sticking to the most used corridors. But then I figured," he waved his wand back before pointing it back at Harry, "I'd get you on the day your parents died. It would be suiting, no? The rest of the Potters, dead on this one day."

The parchment left on the floor at the end of the corridor began to move all on its own, folding over in on itself. They floated steadily into the air, making a slow journey to Cassius's side.

This was getting out of control. There was no way this could be happening.

Harry took a step back, his two friends mirroring the action. Cassius took a step forward.

"And then you brainwashed these two, as well. Or were you always Jews hiding in the bodies of wizards that nobody would look twice at."

The parchment had completed their folding, turned into little origami birds that floated beside their master.

"So," Cassius said with finality, "I guess I need to kill you, too."

Cassius threw his wand hand forward, and the origami birds flew at the trio.

Harry jumped backward. He wasn't prepared for this kind of thing. Not at all.

"Wingardium Leviosa!" Daphne intoned, and the tapestry levitated off the wall, catching one of the origami birds in a hold.

Ron froze for a second before he, too, jumped into action. He couldn't believe something like this was happening to him. He never thought something like this could happen to him.

A bird made from parchment charged at him, and Ron threw his fist forward rather than even attempt to cast a spell.

Fist colliding with the bird, a shap sting came up his arm, and the bird fell to the ground. He quickly stepped on it, crushing it.

But the sting on Ron's hand demanded attention, and Ron looked at it. A rivet of blood was flowing from his knuckles.

"They're really sharp! Don't let it cut you!" Ron warned.

"Incendio!" Harry chanted, and a beam of light hit a bird that was aiming for him.

It fell to the ground almost at once, the fire burning the origami away.

"Flipendo!"

A purple spell struck Harry in the chest, and he went flying backward into the wall.

"Harry!" Ron shouted.

Harry raised his wand, disorientated from the blow.

"Expelliarmus!" Cassius cast, and Harry's wand was ripped from his hand into Cassius's outstretched one.

Daphne frowned and cast the levitating charm on Cassius, lifting his shirt over his eyes, blinding him.

Harry rubbed his eyes and moved forward, and suddenly stopped, freezing.

The wall he'd crashed into was changing and, all of a sudden, a door was instead where it used to be.

Disregarding why the door was even there, but thanking that there was one, Harry pulled on the handle, flinging it open with as much strength as he could.

There was no time to stand in awe of the room that was filled to the roof with junk items and other things.

"Come on!" Harry shouted, and went inside. Daphne and Ron quickly followed.

Cassius pulled his shirt down and, seeing the door starting to close, leaped forward and putting his hand on the outside, pulling it back open.

The origami birds flew in through the increasingly wide opening, diving down for Ron, who quickly batted it away with what looked like a broken table leg.

Cassius came in through the door, pointing his wand at Ron.

Harry grabbed the nearest thing he could find and hurled it at Cassius's head, and the older student blinked in sudden bewilderment.

Another piece of wood destroyed a different origami bird and Daphne let her gaze wander to find the next one.

Cassius dodged another piece of junk thrown at him by Harry and turned his wand on Daphne.

"Carpe Retractum!" he sneered.

A beam of orange struck Daphne in the chest, pulling her off center in the direction of Cassius.

Stumbling on her feet, she quickly caught herself, but not fast enough to stop another origami bird narrowly miss her face, the wing cutting into her cheek.

The bird looped around for another attack as Daphne daintily touched her cheek, feeling a small amount of blood. But the piece of origami never reached its target, forced to a stop when Ron threw a glass cup at it.

Cassius quickly took stock of his situation. That had been the last of the origami. No matter.

"Flipendo!" he called, and Ron was struck, flinging him back into the pile of junk.

Daphne stood up, clutching her wand tightly in her grip.

"Just me and you now, false Aryan," Cassius sneered at her.

Daphne said nothing.

"Diffindo!" Cassius cast.

Daphne jumped to the side just in time. Readjusting her aim, she focused as hard as she possibly could in firing off that spell.

"Incendio!" Daphne cried, and, to her own astonishment, a light fired from the tip of her wand, striking Cassius's head.

In an instant, Cassius's entire head was engulfed in flames.

The older student screamed, stumbling back out of the room and into the corridor, waving his wand over himself like a maniac.

Daphne, horrifically entranced by the sight, followed him out into the corridor. She felt that Harry and Ron were at her heels.

Cassius's screams went on and on, a sound that Daphne was horrified by, but couldn't ignore. She'd done that.

When Cassius reached the end of the corridor, he fell to his knees, and then fell forward.

The trio stared, transfixed on the body of Cassius Warrington as he just lay still, the fire disappearing into the air at last.

Harry took the first hesitant step forward, and the other two followed close behind.

The only thing they could hear within the corridor was the sound of their own heavy breathing.

Finally, they reached Cassius and Harry dropped down on his knees beside him. He took a deep breath, and then rolled him over.

Daphne retched.

The young man that had once been their housemate's face was a burnt crisp. Charred, he barely looked like how he did before.

"Oh…" Ron whispered, swallowing.

The reality of the situation slammed down on them like a ton of bricks.

The smell of burnt flesh hugged every corner of the corridor.

Daphne breathed in deeply, and then exhaled. She repeated the motion for what seemed like many, many minutes.

Harry had taken a step back from the sight, running a hand through his messy hair.

Ron slumped against the wall, unable to stop staring at the body.

"...What-" Harry swallowed, "What do we do?"

"We're going to be executed," Daphne breathed. It was the most she'd worn her emotions on her sleeve in what was probably years.

"We were just defending ourselves, right?" Ron asked, tearing his gaze from the body. He couldn't look at it anymore. "He attacked us first, we'll tell them that and-"

"They won't care," Daphne interrupted. "They'll want blood for this. His father will want blood for this."

Ron slammed the back of his head against the wall. "Fuck."

"We can salvage this," Harry was saying. "We can hide him in that room," he trailed off. The room was gone. "It's gone…"

"No," Daphne shook her head. "We don't have time. The Feast starts any minute."

"Okay," Harry nodded, putting his hands on his hips. "Then, we get out of here. Pretend nothing happened, they don't have any proof that we did anything."

Ron bent down, grimacing as he reached into one of the body's pockets. "Now they don't have any proof," he said, handing Harry his wand.

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it."

Daphne breathed a few more times, getting herself together. After a long moment, her emotionless appearance was back.

She pointed her wand at her vomit and muttered, "Evanesco." And it was gone like that.

"Can't you do that to…" Ron trailed off. He didn't want to refer to the body as a corpse, or as Cassius.

"No," Daphne replied. She touched her cheek, lingering over the new scar. "How bad is it?"

"Barely noticeable," Harry reassured her.

Daphne nodded. "Good." She paused, thinking. "We need to burn these clothes."

"What?"

"Why?"

"The stench of… the burns. It'll stick to them like leeches to skin." She looked between them. "Get back to your dorms and change. Hide these clothes somewhere they can't be seen or smelled. We'll get rid of them the next time we can."

Harry and Ron nodded. Daphne took one last look at the body, closed her eyes tightly, and when she reopened them, headed off back the way they'd entered the corridor.

Harry and Ron were quick to follow, joining her as they walked as quickly as they could down the corridors, and then running when nobody was looking.

Entering the empty Common Room as a unit, they hurried to change into other clothes, putting then on as quickly as they could in their limited time.

Harry and Ron came back out of their rooms at relatively the same time. At the table that they'd played chess was a bag that Daphne left out, with her clothes inside.

Both boys tossed their compromised clothes inside, closing the bag with a desperate air about them.

Daphne came out shortly thereafter, apparently doing some last second touch up on her appearance. She took the bag and told Harry to hide it under his bed for the time being.

When it was all taken care of, they hurried to the Feast before adopting the most calm aura they could put on as they stepped into the Great Hall. Nobody paid much attention to them as they walked to the Slytherin table and sat down.

A few more students came in late, but that fact did nothing to ease Harry's mind.

He poured a small amount of Sauerkraut onto his plate and started biting into it. It tasted like ash in his mouth, but he didn't stop.

He glanced up, gaze landing on Daphne's new scar. It really was a small thing that could be easily missed. A small vertical mark that looked more like a minor cut than anything.

"Do I have something on my face, Potter?" Daphne asked without looking up.

It was a reminder to stop acting odd in any way.

"Sorry," he apologized, dropping his gaze back down to his meal.

"Have you finished your Verteidigung homework?" Daphne asked.

It frankly amazed Harry how she managed to pretend that nothing was amiss, despite how there was a note of fear in her eye.

"Haven't started it yet," Ron mumbled, playing with the food on his plate. He had yet to eat.

"Ron," Harry whispered under his breath, only loud enough for his friend to hear. Ron looked to him and Harry did his best to gesture with his eyes at the Schnitzel.

Ron grimaced, but still raised the meat to bite into.

The doors of the Great Hall opened and Harry tensed, glancing at the man who entered from the corner of his eye, doing his best to discreetly watch.

Across from him, he could see Daphne doing something similar. She angled one of the silver platters to watch what was happening in the reflection.

Herr Katz walked down the center of the tables at a fast stride, stepping up onto the elevated platform where the teachers ate their own meal. He leaned forward when he got to Professor Friend, whispering a few things. The Schulleiter's face did not change even as he stood up to follow the Hausmeister back out of the Great Hall.

"How long do the Feasts usually last?" one of Harry's year mates, Sofie Seiler, asked a Vertrauensschüler.

"About an hour or so, don't worry."

An hour of sitting here, doing nothing but worry about the possible things that they may have left behind.

Harry shook away the thoughts, forcing himself to take another mouthful of Sauerkraut.

It was torture, not being able to know what was going on around you. If people knew you'd done something horrible. Or that you were at least involved in something so bad.

The minutes passed like hours. He didn't take in any of the conversations going on around him. If Daphne or Ron asked him anything or tried to talk to him, then he responded mechanically because he couldn't remember doing it.

The door of the Great Hall burst open much louder than before, and Harry could've jumped; he was so tense.

A man Harry was sure he'd seen before, but couldn't name, entered the Hall, with Professor Friend following close behind.

The man had short grey hair that was so very straight, and a small, toothbrush mustache sitting on his upper lip. He was wearing a decorated uniform with a pin of the Black Sun in the center of his tie.

"That's Barty Crouch. Director of the Gestapo." Harry heard someone whisper. His mouth went dry.

The man paid no one any attention as he stepped up to the elevated platform, taking the podium. His steely eyes swept over each and every student they landed on.

"A great crime has been committed in these very walls," Crouch stated. "Some of you might see him as a friend, others as a peer. And he was killed in a very cowardly act."

Crouch let that hang, continuing his search.

"Cassius Warrington has been murdered today." Gasps echoed in the Hall. "And I promise you that I will not rest until I do my duty and find whoever did such a terrible thing."

Daphne was looking increasingly pale as Crouch went on.

"Until I learn who performed such an insidious act, I will be posting my men in and around the castle to ensure something like this does not happen to one of you."

Crouch focused in on the door of the Great Hall.

"That will be all."

His words said, Crouch stepped away from the podium and went back the way he came, heedless of the pandemonium he'd left in his wake.

"Why is Director Crouch taking such a personal look into this?" Harry heard someone asking. It was the very question he himself wanted to know the answer to.

"You don't know? Cassius's father is part of the Schutzstaffel. Standartenführer, I think he said."

Harry flicked his eyes back to Daphne.

Her sapphire eyes shone with a fearfulness he was sure reflected in his own.