His mother is dead—killed during the fall of Dresden. Harald doesn't seem to carry any particular grief or respect for her memory beyond the general whining about how the family "lost everything." She exists mostly as another prop in the endless, drunken lament about their former lavish life in the Bavarian countryside. The way he and his father talk about her [and the broader horrors of the Eastern Front's aftermath] is detached and self-pitying at best.

His most prominent relationship is with his father, Albrecht. It’s an ugly, enmeshed father-son bond built on shared failure, entitlement, and perversion. Albrecht enables Harald completely: the spoiled, portly, manchild son starts shit at the bar knowing Papa will finish it, acts like an obnoxious, handsy brute, and the two of them spend their evenings in their foul little flat getting black-out drunk, romanticizing the "good old days," and mourning their lost status. They treat local hookers as shared property, putting them in degrading, almost cuckold-adjacent situations that blur any healthy boundary between father and son.

Harald was raised [and clearly still is] as Albrecht's pet project and political heir—papa's boy through and through, even as an adult. There's no real independence, no growth, no reckoning with the war or their crimes. Just two fat, bitter ex-Nazis freezing time in a bottle, larping relevance while rotting in the new reality. Harald works at the same meat-processing plant as Johannes, but mentally he's still the same little shit who believes the world owes him the lifestyle his father's rank once provided.

As horrible as they both are, and my initial apprehension to open up about his character because of how most people online view the act of creating "OC"'s [i.e. not as storytelling devices but projection projects], this kind of character is exactly the sort you unfortunately cannot ignore in a fresh post-war German setting. The unpunished, still-entitled remnants who learned nothing and carry the old poison forward in the most petty, disgusting ways possible. His inevitable ugly end at Johannes' hands [carved up and tossed in with the actual pigs at the factory] feels more like a grotesque cosmic justice more than tragedy. No redemption, no sympathy, just a loud, drunk, entitled pig meeting the fate he and his father spent years acting like they were above.