Chapter III.
Silence took over. Nobody moved or made a sound after hearing name of the most powerful man in the world uttered loudly, as such names have power over simple human beings. Images flashed through Harry's mind as he recalled what little he heard of the man that was told from reliable sources, precious few of those were available in dying carcass of former colonial power known as the "Great" Britain.
Harry remembered talking to Dursleys' neighbour, Annegret Függ, once. Mrs. Függ was an honorable women with ties to old Austrian blood, the blood of the proud Germanic ancestry which was shunned and rightly feared by weak capitalist factory owners who slaved for inbred royal family of England. Annegret spoke highly of the man who was then freshly appointed a chancellor of the great Germany, at that time still brought low by the criminal treaty of Versailles.
"Mark my words, Herm-er... Harry. Herr Hitler is a man with a vision. A man who shall restore glory of the great Germania by the law of our fathers and by the right of Prussian ancestry." she said, with strange fire in her eyes. "The war is not over, yet. Our enemies being not mere countries, or kings and queens. Our enemies hide behind kind facades yet their heart knows no honour, for they treasure deceit and preversions."
Although Harry was only 9 years old at that time, he still remembers the passion in old woman's voice, mixed with pride and inner fire so bright, that if sparked in the whole nation, would threaten to burn the whole world down.
A sharp crack brought Harry back to the present. He was almost 15 again, and shocked at the energy that Vernon was displaying after hearing the proclamation read by the voice behind the door.
"NO HERMANN LIVES HERE, ONLY PROPER ENGLISHFOLK RESIDE IN THIS FINE BUILDING! NOW IN THE NAME OF KING GEORGE, FEKKEN GO AWAY AND BOTHER US NAE MORE! WHO ARE YE TO THREATEN AN HONEST MAN IN HIS OWN HOUSE ANYWAY?!"
Vernon's face started to turn a not entirely unkingly shade of deep red as his voice cracked and by the end of the sentence, he was speaking in a pathetic falsetto.
In response to his tirade, a rumbling laugh echoed through the whole house. It was a long and hearty laugh of a man having the time of his life. After a while, the laugh subsided and a deep voice replied. "Who am I, Dursley? I am a man. I am sworn to my Führer and bound in blood to a dead man. I am just someone to put things in motion, to make things right. To initiate a promising young man, a son to a man I was tasked to protect, into his legacy, his birthright." The voice was not sounding amused anymore. Instead, it rose in tone to more than match Vernon's pathetic tirade in loudness, but the voice was still perfectly controlled, as if its owner had total control over his emotions. "I am a soldat. Ich bin ein Offizier."
The door creaked.
"I!"
The door shooked.
"AM!"
The door cracked.
"A!"
The door buckled.
"WIZARD!"
The door gave in.