In Harry Potter World As Madara Uchiha

Darkness consumed the chamber as Madara felt the air grow heavier, saturated with an ancient force that was neither purely magic nor chakra. The very walls seemed to pulse with awareness, watching, waiting. He could hear whispers—soft, insidious, crawling into his mind like tendrils of smoke.

His Sharingan spun, analyzing the shifting shadows that coiled around him. This was no ordinary enchantment. Whatever force had been sealed within the chest was now testing him, determining if he was worthy.

A flicker of movement. Then another. Figures materialized from the darkness, their forms indistinct but radiating raw hostility. Their eyes glowed—some golden, some red, some abyssal black. They did not belong to the realm of the living.

"Prove yourself," a voice echoed, layered with many tones as if multiple beings spoke as one.

Madara's smirk remained unwavering. "Is that all?"

The first shadow lunged at him, moving at an unnatural speed, its claws slicing through the air. In a single movement, Madara vanished and reappeared behind it, his hand forming the seals for a Great Fireball Jutsu. The inferno roared forward, consuming the creature—but it did not burn. Instead, the flames were swallowed by the darkness, absorbed into the very entity he faced.

Clever, Madara mused. Conventional jutsu wouldn't work.

He activated his Rinnegan. The energy in the room pulsed in response, the shadows recoiling for the first time. These entities—these remnants of old magic—recognized power when they saw it.

A second figure darted toward him, and with a flick of his wrist, Madara sent a wave of gravitational force, repelling it into the abyss. But more came, surging forward in unison, seeking to overwhelm him with sheer numbers.

Very well.

Madara exhaled, lifting a single hand. "Shinra Tensei."

The chamber trembled as an invisible force exploded outward. The shadowy figures shattered, dissipating like mist caught in a hurricane. Silence followed.

Then, the whispering voice returned. "You are worthy."

The chest's lid creaked open, revealing a faintly glowing artifact—a black tome bound in what appeared to be dragonhide, its pages edged with silver runes. The moment Madara reached for it, he felt it latch onto his chakra network, connecting with his very essence.

His mind was flooded with visions. Spells, techniques, incantations not seen for centuries. It was not merely a book—it was a repository of forbidden knowledge, a culmination of both magical and chakra-based arts. The information seared into his consciousness, expanding his understanding of what was possible in this world.

As the connection settled, the shadows retreated into the walls. The trial had ended. The artifact had accepted him.

Madara closed the tome and turned to leave. His purpose in Hogwarts had not yet been fulfilled, but this was a beginning. There were still many relics to claim, many secrets to unearth.

As he stepped out of the Room of Requirement, he sensed a shift in the air. Someone was nearby.

His Sharingan flickered, scanning the area. Footsteps echoed faintly, careful but not entirely silent. Whoever was watching him was skilled, but not enough to evade his detection.

A soft voice broke the silence. "Who are you?"

Madara turned, his crimson eyes meeting the sharp gaze of Hermione Granger.

She was alone, her wand at the ready but not yet raised. Suspicion clouded her expression, but there was something else—curiosity.

Madara remained motionless. He had no need to lie, but neither did he have the desire to reveal his true nature. Instead, he let a smirk cross his lips.

"That," he said, "is a question with a very complicated answer."