Prologue

Germany, 1939

Lord Voldemort lounged silently, contemplating the man in front of him. In some ways, they were similar. This thought, he had conceded, albeit grudgingly. But he consoled himself with the knowledge that he was still vastly different and more powerful than this muggle. He controlled the sneer that was threatening to form at the thought of collaborating with a muggle, but oh, how Voldemort absolutely loved chaos. Besides, the more muggles that died, the better, he supposed.

"Adolf, my friend," Voldemort said, speaking in fluent German. "I have for you a business proposition."

Adolf Hitler stared at the tall, slender, and startlingly pale gentleman sitting in front of him. The man exuded power and imposition, and Hitler found himself slightly impressed. It was hard to impress him. The man, who went by the name Voldemort (Hitler scoffed when he first heard it. How daring), had dark hair, almost black. His eyes were a shade so brown, Hitler swore he saw hints of red. Although he was frighteningly skinny, Voldemort did not at all appear sickly. His features were exceedingly sharp, and he was painfully handsome. Hitler, who was as straight as an arrow, was especially drawn to Voldemort's lips, which formed a cruel slash across his face when he wasn't attempting to woo his subject. All in all, Hitler was reminded of himself in younger, finer days. Brought out of his reverie by the rhythmic tapping of Voldemort's slender fingers, Hitler finally responded. "I don't work with Englishmen," he stated matter-of-factly. "They are not trustworthy, and do not see eye-to-eye with me about certain things."

Voldemort's cruel mouth tilted upward in a mocking smirk. "And I don't work with Austrians. I think they are disgusting and dirty, especially when they pretend to be German," Voldemort said, his smile widening at the irony in his words. Hitler was quite similar to him, wasn't he? Voldemort continued, "But frankly, I don't give a damn. At all, really. Because despite your mistaken preconceptions, which will be corrected, I'm sure, we do share similar views. We both believe that there is a lesser race to be eradicated, and are willing to take extreme measures to make sure our ends are met."

Hitler quirked his brow, his interest peaked. "Go on," he said, although he was sure he didn't need to allow permission. If Voldemort was anything like Hitler, he was a man to be feared, and this, the Austrian knew for a fact. He tried not to show it, but saw that Voldemort knew, and did not care.

"I am nobility. There are other members of nobility such as myself. And there are others, still, who aren't. Does this philosophy sound familiar?" Voldemort continued without waiting for an answer. "Allow me to show you something."

Hitler watched as Voldemort pulled a slender, highly polished stick of wood out of his jacket pocket. "My wand," he was saying. He waved the stick around and objects started flying about. Hitler continued to watch as beautiful lights and vapors spun about the room. "Behold this awesome power."

The Austrian believed that the power was very awesome indeed, but instead said, "You bring witchcraft into my home? How dare you! Your powers are satanic an-"

He was interrupted by high, cruel laughter, and saw that Voldemort's mouth was parted in mirth. "Dare? I dare do as I please," Voldemort stated, twirling his wand nonchalantly. He pulled the vapors in, turning them into dark, menacing mist.

Hitler stared, transfixed, as the vapors approached him and wrapped themselves around him, squeezing tighter and tighter. "Halt, nein, nein, please!" he screamed, terrified.

Voldemort only laughed. "You see, Adolf, dearest pal, I could have done this all along. I could have controlled you with a flick of my wrist, but instead I approached you. Why?" Voldemort paused dramatically. "Simply because I am a better human than you. You disgust me. All nonmagical creatures are beneath me, and yet here I am, feigning deference. I thought you were above all of this," Voldemort waved his arm about the room, and Hitler had a feeling that he was gesturing at the world, "filth. But I guess not. I guess you aren't very distinguished at all." Voldemort flicked his wand and the vapors disappeared. He stood up and buttoned his coat. "I can kill you right here. I can wave my hand and control you." He extended his hand towards Hitler, who was terrified out of his mind.

Suddenly, Hitler felt himself doing cartwheels about the room, then watched, mortified, as he walked to his grand desk, pulled down his pants, and shat on his own desk. He felt his hand reaching out to the pile of excrement, felt himself touching it, felt himself bringing the filth to his face. And, as sudden as it began, he felt himself in his own body again. He had no power, he saw. He was in the hands of this monster.

"See, I told you. Filth." Voldemort vanished the excrement and Scourgified Hitler, then looked at him appraisingly. "If you are actually distinguished and are just having a bad day, I believe we can talk business. If not…" Voldemort left the statement unfinished.

"No, no, Herr Voldemort, I believe that we can work together. What-"

"Just do exactly as you have been. I will make sure the world knows you and you are given credit for your work. I just require that you do it all under my purview. I can not have you accidentally killing my people with your tomfoolery. Besides," Voldemort started walking towards the door, "I mostly just wanted to meet you. I heard great things." He looked back at the pantsless Fuhrer, humor marking his face and making him momentarily stunning. "I will be sending my right-hand man here to make plans with you. And Hitler, do see that you never do anything that will cause me to come back here again. I detest your tasteless flat."

With that, the British man disappeared in a puff of dark smoke.

Hitler sat down shakily. He had no idea what happened just now, but he knew that this alliance was dangerous. And that this Voldemort had ulterior motives. What's worse was the fact that there were more just like him, although not exactly like him, Hitler supposed. He took a deep breath, pulled on his pants, and waited for this man that Voldemort had him waiting for.

Minutes later, two tall, exceedingly pale, flaxen-haired gentlemen appeared directly inside his office, startling him. Ah, he thought, at least they're Aryan.