Madara strode through the streets of Diagon Alley, his crimson eyes concealed beneath a shadowed hood. The atmosphere buzzed with magic, yet to him, it felt insignificant compared to the overwhelming force of chakra coursing through his veins. He had acquired the necessary tools to begin his exploration of this world—his wand, knowledge, and a new identity. But something lingered at the edge of his mind. A question.
What was his purpose here?
He had power, but power without purpose was meaningless. The system guiding him had given him vague objectives, but they were just stepping stones. His instincts told him that there was something greater waiting for him—something worth seizing.
As he pondered, a flicker of movement caught his attention. A group of wizards, hooded and whispering, hurried through a side alley. Their behavior was too cautious, too secretive for ordinary shoppers. Madara smirked. Secrets were often the gateway to opportunity.
Activating his Sharingan, he followed them silently, his presence masked by years of honed stealth. The wizards entered a dimly lit shop at the far end of the alley, one he recognized from the books he had skimmed—Borgin and Burkes, a notorious dealer of dark artifacts.
Inside, the air was thick with dust and the scent of aged parchment. Strange, cursed trinkets lined the shelves, radiating an ominous presence. Madara pressed himself into the shadows, listening.
"The Dark Lord is gone, but his legacy remains," one of the wizards hissed. "The Ministry grows bolder every day. We must be careful."
A second voice, deeper and steadier, responded, "Careful, yes. But we cannot remain idle. There are forces in play greater than the Ministry. There are those who seek true power, beyond the shackles of blood purity."
Madara's interest piqued. These weren't mere Death Eater remnants clinging to Voldemort's memory. They were something different. Opportunists, perhaps. And opportunists were easy to manipulate.
A floorboard creaked beneath his foot. The voices stopped.
"Who's there?"
Madara stepped forward, allowing his hood to fall. The dim candlelight reflected off his crimson Sharingan, and for a brief moment, the room was filled with an eerie silence.
One of the wizards instinctively reached for his wand, but Madara moved first. A flicker of movement—then the wizard's body froze, trapped in a powerful illusion. The others recoiled, realizing they were in the presence of something beyond their comprehension.
"You fear the Ministry," Madara said calmly, his voice a perfect blend of amusement and authority. "But tell me… do you know what true fear is?"
The wizards exchanged uneasy glances. The one who seemed to be their leader stepped forward cautiously. "And who might you be?"
Madara considered his answer. His name carried weight, but revealing it too soon would be foolish. Instead, he smirked. "A traveler. One who seeks knowledge… and power."
The leader studied him for a moment before nodding. "Then perhaps we share similar goals."
The conversation that followed was enlightening. These wizards were not loyal to Voldemort's ideology but rather sought power in all its forms. They spoke of hidden artifacts, ancient magic buried beneath Hogwarts, and whispers of forces even the Dark Lord feared. Most importantly, they mentioned an underground network—one that operated beyond the Ministry's control.
Madara had no intention of becoming anyone's pawn, but information was a weapon, and these people were unwittingly arming him.
As the meeting ended, the leader extended a cautious hand. "If you seek power, we may have use for each other."
Madara's fingers barely brushed the offered hand before his Sharingan flared to life. In an instant, the wizard was trapped in a genjutsu—visions of endless darkness and terror filling his mind. He collapsed to the floor, gasping for breath as Madara stepped over him.
"You misunderstand," Madara said, his voice a whisper of finality. "I do not seek allies. I seek control."
With that, he vanished into the night, leaving the gathered wizards shaken.
As he walked through the empty streets, his mind pieced together his next steps. If there were relics of true power hidden in this world, he would find them. Hogwarts held secrets, and its greatest minds had barely scratched the surface of what was possible.
A slow smile formed on Madara's lips.
He had begun as an anomaly in this world. But soon, he would become its master.