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My name no longer matters. Not the old one. Not the name that once turned nations to ash and made gods flinch. That man—Madara Uchiha—died in a world of shadows and blood. And yet, I woke again. Smaller. Softer. Reborn into a quieter apocalypse. The year was 1939. Europe trembled on the brink of war. The world was sick with ideology and fire. And I? I was just a child—again. But behind these young eyes, the Sharingan burned, untouched by death or time. No chakra, no jutsu. Just blood. Just memory. Just… me. They named me Caelum Rosier. My father, Cassian Rosier, was a wizard of old blood—sharp, cold, the kind of man who spoke in wand movements and silences. He never quite looked me in the eyes. Maybe he saw something in them. My mother, Anna, was a Muggle—sweet, strong-willed, too bright for the world she married into. She told stories of machines and logic, while my father taught wandlore and the "purity" of names. I learned early that love could rot under tradition, and that magic was not always wonder. Sometimes it was a chain. But I never told them. Not about the memories. Not about the eyes. Not about the voices that still whisper when I close my own. This world is different. Its power is shaped not by chakra, but by wood and word. A wand. A spell. Intent. Control. It is elegant, yet childish. Terrifying in its arrogance. My strength is gone, buried with the corpse of my former self—but something new stirs in its place. Magic, yes. But also curiosity. I don''''t want to conquer this world. I want to understand it. And then, he came to our door. Albus Dumbledore. Too polite, too clever. Eyes that saw too much. He called me gifted. Invited me to a school of sorcery, hidden in the Scottish highlands. Hogwarts. A place that hums with secrets, blood, and forgotten things buried beneath years of ivory tower smiles. I went. Now, I walk among children who think magic is a game. Who giggle through hexes and flinch at ghosts. They have no idea what real war is. What real loss tastes like. I smile when they look at me funny. I’m used to it. I was a god once. Now I’m a boy with red eyes in a world that doesn''''t understand them. But I will learn. I always do. And when I do— Well, let’s just say… even magic has blind spots.