Chapter seven: The Ghost in the Flesh
For the first time in decades, Adolf Hitler could move again.
It was slow at first. Fleeting. A moment here, a flicker of control there. But each time Harry Potter drifted too close to the edge of exhaustion—each time his mind wavered, cracked—Hitler found a way to slip through.
And every night, he used it.
Tonight, he was in a library.
The young wizard's body was foreign, strange—lithe and strong in ways Hitler's own had never been. The wand in his pocket was a curious weight, thrumming with power he had never truly understood in life.
But the mind… oh, the mind was still his.
The book before him was a brutal lesson.
The Reich had fallen. His empire was dust. The world had moved on, branding him the greatest villain in history, a failure, a madman.
The arrogance of it burned.
His fingers turned the pages, eyes scanning over decades of history that were lost to him. He drank it in—every war, every political shift, every collapse and rise of nations. The world had changed in ways he had never imagined.
But one truth remained.
Power still ruled.
And now, he had another chance.
Hitler leaned back, exhaling slowly. The boy's body was still young, still resistant. He could not hold control for long—not yet. But every night, he learned. He gathered knowledge. He waited.
And soon…
He would no longer be a ghost.
He would be something more.
He would be reborn.
And this time—
He would not fail.
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