In Harry Potter World As Madara Uchiha

Madara—no, the individual who had assumed the identity of Madara—towered over the quaking wizard, his Sharingan faintly illuminating the shadowy forest. The wand lay abandoned at his feet, momentarily forgotten as he surveyed his surroundings once again. The gravity of his predicament was beginning to dawn on him. This was not a dream. He was not experiencing a hallucination. This was reality.

The hovering panel had proclaimed it: he had been reincarnated into the universe of Harry Potter. And not merely into any ordinary vessel, but into that of Madara Uchiha, one of the most formidable shinobi to ever exist. That power surged within him now, raw and unrefined, poised for release. But what was his purpose in this realm? Where should he even start?

He cast his gaze back down at the wizard, whose complexion had turned ashen with terror. The man's chest heaved with rapid, anxious breaths, his eyes flickering toward his wand as if wishing to reclaim it.

"Who are you?" the wizard stammered, his voice shaky.

Madara grinned, crouching slightly to scrutinize the man more closely. "I could pose the same question to you," he responded. His voice was deep and measured, laced with a hint of amusement. "You seemed rather eager to confront me. Is that customary in this realm?"

The wizard swallowed hard. "Y-You shouldn't be here. This is land protected by the Ministry! No one is allowed to—"

Madara waved a hand dismissively. "And yet, here I stand."

The wizard's gaze darted back to his wand, and in a swift motion, Madara crushed it underfoot, the brittle wood splintering with a sharp crack that resonated through the stillness of the forest. The wizard gasped in shock.

"You won't require that," Madara stated coolly.

The man trembled. "W-What do you want?"

That was indeed a pertinent question. What did he desire? He had no ties in this world. No definitive objective. The notion of leading a mundane existence was absurd—this body was designed for conflict, for domination. But was that genuinely his aspiration? Or was it merely the path that Madara Uchiha would have chosen?

A sudden chime echoed in his mind, an ethereal noise that sent a shiver down his spine. A translucent screen materialized before his eyes.

[Quest Activated: Discover Your Purpose]

The world is vast, and power alone will not guide your path. Find a reason to exist in this new world.

Madara's eyes narrowed. So, there was a system at play, a guiding force orchestrating his existence in this realm. This world had its own rules, and it appeared he was expected to play a part in its grand design.

He returned his focus to the wizard. "Tell me where I am."

The man hesitated, his lips trembling. "Th-The Forbidden Forest… near Hogwarts."

Hogwarts. The legendary school of magic. If he was near its grounds, that meant the greatest magical minds of this world were within reach—Dumbledore, Voldemort, Potter. Figures of renown, shrouded in tales and conflict. Their presence posed both an opportunity and a challenge.

"And you?" Madara pressed. "What is your name?"

The man swallowed. "T-Thomas Avery."

Madara tilted his head slightly. That name was familiar. A Death Eater. A loyalist to Voldemort. The books had chronicled his presence among the Dark Lord's ranks. If he was still operating, then Voldemort's influence had not entirely dissipated. But when exactly in the timeline had Madara arrived?

"Tell me," Madara continued, stepping closer, "where is your master?"

Avery's breath hitched. "I—I don't know what you mean."

Madara sighed, displeased with the predictable dishonesty. With a flick of his wrist, chakra surged through his body, and in an instant, Avery was lifted off the ground, suspended by an invisible force. The wizard let out a strangled gasp, his limbs flailing as he struggled against the overwhelming pressure.

"P-Please!" Avery croaked. "W-We don't know where the Dark Lord is! H-He disappeared after Potter—"

So Voldemort had already fallen. That placed Madara in the post-war era, where the remnants of the Dark Lord's followers lurked in the shadows, either regrouping or living in fear of retribution. That meant Potter was still alive, and the Ministry still held power.

Madara released his grip, and Avery collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath. His hands clutched at his throat as he wheezed, coughing violently.

"I see," Madara mused. "Then I suppose I'll have to seek answers elsewhere."

Avery looked up at him, eyes glistening with terror. "W-What are you?"

Madara smirked. "Something beyond your comprehension."

He turned, walking away as the night air hummed with untapped potential. The path ahead was uncertain, but one thing was clear—he would not be a mere observer in this world.

No, he would shape it to his will.