In Harry Potter World As Madara Uchiha

The streets of Knockturn Alley were as dark and treacherous as Madara expected. Shadows clung to the crumbling brick walls, and the air smelled of damp parchment, burning incense, and something more sinister—magic tainted by ill intent. He walked with purpose, his crimson Sharingan concealed beneath his hood, yet his presence alone was enough to make the loitering figures melt away into the gloom. Fear was a useful tool, and he wielded it effortlessly.

Madara's mind was ablaze with the information he had gathered from the wizards at Borgin and Burkes. Artifacts of power were scattered across the magical world, many hidden in the depths of Hogwarts itself. The foolish wizards obsessed over blood purity and political power, but Madara sought something far greater—absolute mastery over both chakra and magic. If there were relics that could enhance his abilities, he would claim them.

As he approached the entrance to a worn-down shop, he noticed a hunched figure slipping inside. Intrigued, he followed, stepping through the creaking door to find a cramped space filled with shelves overflowing with forbidden tomes and arcane objects. A shopkeeper with sallow skin and milky eyes looked up from behind a counter, his gaze flickering warily toward Madara.

"You don't belong here," the man rasped, his gnarled fingers clutching the edge of his robe. "What do you want?"

Madara stepped forward, his presence suffocating in the small shop. "Information."

The shopkeeper hesitated before letting out a dry chuckle. "Information always comes at a price."

With a flick of his wrist, Madara's chakra surged, sending a chilling gust through the room. The candlelight flickered, and the shelves trembled. The shopkeeper paled, his bravado evaporating.

"Perhaps," Madara said coolly, "I should name my own price."

The old man swallowed hard and nodded. "What… what do you seek?"

"Tell me about the relics hidden in Hogwarts."

A knowing gleam flickered in the shopkeeper's eyes. "Ah… so that's your interest. There are many artifacts in that castle. Some believe the Founders left behind treasures imbued with their magic. The most infamous of them—well, you must have heard of the Deathly Hallows."

Madara considered the words. The Deathly Hallows were powerful, but they were not enough. He needed something more. Something the wizards themselves had not yet uncovered.

"Where would one begin the search?" Madara asked, his voice laced with authority.

The shopkeeper hesitated before sighing. "The Room of Requirement is said to hold lost things. Many believe it conceals relics of great power."

Madara nodded. That was his next destination.

The journey to Hogwarts was swift. Under the cover of darkness, he approached the castle's perimeter. The wards surrounding the school pulsed with protective enchantments, but they were designed to repel wizards, not shinobi. With a simple application of his Rinnegan's power, the barriers shimmered before allowing him through, completely undetected.

He scaled the ancient walls effortlessly, moving like a phantom. The castle was eerily quiet, its halls bathed in the soft glow of enchanted torches. The memories of Hogwarts' grandeur from the books and movies were nothing compared to standing within its hallowed corridors.

With precision, he navigated through the castle, avoiding patrols of ghostly figures and the occasional wandering professor. He needed access to the Room of Requirement.

As he reached the seventh floor, he stood before the blank stretch of wall where the fabled chamber was said to appear. He focused his mind, channeling his will into a single thought.

"I require the hidden power of this castle."

The wall shimmered, twisting like liquid before solidifying into an ornate doorway. Madara smirked and stepped inside.

The Room of Requirement was vast, filled with towering piles of forgotten objects. The energy in the air crackled with old magic, and he could sense the weight of history in every artifact scattered across the chamber. He activated his Sharingan, scanning for anything that radiated unusual power.

His gaze landed on a small, blackened chest resting atop a pedestal. Unlike the other relics buried in dust, this one seemed untouched by time. He approached it cautiously, his instincts warning him that whatever lay within was no ordinary trinket.

As he reached out, the chest pulsed with dark energy. A whisper curled through the air, not in words but in intent. A challenge. A test.

Madara smirked. "You wish to resist? Then let's see if you're worthy of my time."

With a single touch, the chamber darkened, and shadows began to shift. He was not alone.

The true trial had begun.