Orochimaru never got the answer he wanted.
The man who was supposed to be this body's father had fainted from fear.
Orochimaru sighed, shook his head, grabbed the man by the collar, and dragged him out of the kitchen like a corpse.
Once they reached the living room, Orochimaru flicked his right hand.
Bang!
The man flew like a cannonball and slammed into the base of the sofa.
He let out a muffled groan but didn't wake up.
That didn't surprise Orochimaru. Back in Konoha, he had interrogated plenty of ninja from other villages.
When they couldn't hold on anymore, they often pretended to pass out to buy time.
Fine by him. He had more important things to do.
He formed a swift, precise sequence of signs, movements smooth and mechanical.
Eighteen hand seals in total. Orochimaru smoothly deployed a barrier jutsu.
It was far weaker than the barriers set up by Konoha's barrier team, but his Chakra reserves were limited. This was the best he could do.
Even a bad warning system was still a warning.
Back then, Jiraiya had learned that lesson the hard way on his first mission. By the time he realized Cloud Ninja had snuck up on him, there were already several kunai sticking out of his ass.
The thought made Orochimaru pause.
"Is this the new body's Kekkei Genkai causing these fragmented memories?"
He was surprised by the sudden trace of nostalgia, but his hands never stopped moving.
He was a ninja.
What ninja did best was cry for fallen comrades while slicing open an enemy's throat.
After setting up the barrier and securing basic early warning, Orochimaru decided it was time to properly interrogate this body's father.
He returned to the man's side, spinning the kitchen knife he'd chosen earlier, shaped enough like a kunai to feel familiar.
"First, the toes. The little toe doesn't affect walking."
He said it calmly, then brought the knife down.
Crack!
The man's left pinky toe flew off.
"Next…"
"Ahhh! Don't! Slake, stop! I'm your father!" the man screamed.
Orochimaru narrowed his eyes. Comparing what he'd heard before and after, he confirmed the information.
This body's name was Slake. This man was his father.
As if he hadn't heard the screaming at all, Orochimaru kept sliding the knife along, bringing it to the little toe on the man's right foot.
"Dad, bear with it. It'll be over soon."
He spoke gently, then brought the knife down again.
Crack!
Another toe flew off, followed by a spray of blood.
This time, the man didn't claim to be Orochimaru's father anymore. His body curled up like a boiled shrimp, gasping again and again.
The first rule of interrogation was to make your subject understand that you weren't after information.
You just enjoyed hurting people.
Recalling the teachings of the Second Hokage that he'd passed on to Konoha's interrogation unit, Orochimaru smiled in quiet remembrance.
The Second Hokage really was a kind man.
After that brief reflection, Orochimaru kept smiling at this body's father.
The man was still curled up, trembling like a boiled shrimp. The moment his eyes met Orochimaru's, he froze, not even daring to gasp anymore.
He forced himself to suppress the pain until his lips turned blue and his whole body shook uncontrollably.
Now it was enough.
Orochimaru nodded slightly and spoke softly.
"Do you remember the questions I asked you earlier?"
"England! Privet Drive is in England! The Five Great Nations you mentioned are the five permanent members of the United Nations! I know them. The United States, England, the Soviet Union, China, and France!"
"And ninja! I know ninja! They're ancient Japanese assassins!"
The man spilled everything in a rush, terrified that if he slowed down, he'd lose another toe.
But…
These answers were far beyond what Orochimaru had expected.
He frowned slightly, burying his confusion deep inside. He forced a gentle, relaxed smile and continued.
"Then tell me, why do you think I treated you like this today?"
The man didn't know.
But he had to know.
His eyes darted around the room before landing on the calendar hanging on the wall.
June 30, 1991.
The date was circled in red.
Today.
Realization hit, and pain twisted his face.
"Today is June thirtieth. It's your eleventh birthday!" he shouted.
Strange…
He hated his son, who carried a Kekkei Genkai, enough to want him dead. Yet now there was a trace of guilt on his face.
Orochimaru looked at him calmly and nodded.
"You're right. So please do what a father should do and prepare…"
He glanced out the window.
The sun had just risen. It was morning.
"A birthday breakfast."
The man scrambled to his feet at once.
To avoid touching his wounds, he had to turn his feet inward and shuffle toward the kitchen step by step.
Then Orochimaru's voice rang out.
"Wait."
The man froze as if struck by lightning.
The next second, he heard an owl hoot from inside the chimney.
He turned around instinctively and saw a scene he would never forget.
Orochimaru flicked his wrist. The kitchen knife shot out like a bullet and pinned the owl straight through the forehead as it emerged from the chimney.
"Take that. Add it to breakfast," Orochimaru said.
The man didn't dare hesitate. Gritting his teeth through the pain, he picked up the lifeless owl and noticed the letter clutched in its talons.
The recipient was his son.
"Slake… y-you have a letter."
"Open it and put it on the table."
Orochimaru spoke calmly, never moving from where he stood.
Only after the man disappeared from sight did Orochimaru stand up and study the bloodstained letter spread across the table.
He had sensed the owl through the barrier long before it arrived.
At first, he'd assumed it was some kind of reconnaissance summon.
But it had flown straight into the house.
That meant it wasn't an ordinary summon. It might have been a suicide-type creature carrying explosive tags.
That was why he'd acted without hesitation and ordered the man to pick it up instead, just in case it was triggered by ninjutsu.
But now…
"Just a messenger?"
Orochimaru frowned, lips twitching slightly. Maybe he had been too tense. Maybe this place wasn't as dangerous as he'd imagined.
With a trace of self-reflection, he turned his attention back to the letter.
Following standard ninja intelligence analysis, Orochimaru quickly extracted the key information.
A school called Hogwarts, a magic academy, was inviting him to enroll.
The headmaster was Dumbledore. The deputy headmistress was Minerva McGonagall.
Students were required to prepare magical tools, textbooks, and uniforms. The list was long, but he memorized all of it.
The letter also noted that a professor would come to escort him and his family to Diagon Alley to purchase the necessary items.
Orochimaru's pupils narrowed.
His earlier caution had been completely justified.
This place really was dangerous.
After all, even Konoha's ninja academy only required new students to bring Ninja Tools during wartime.
And that was mainly so they could be sent to the battlefield at any time.
After thinking it through, Orochimaru formed a rough understanding.
First.
This was not his original ninja world. He needed to gather as much information about this new world as possible.
Second.
This place was still dangerous. A "ninja" like him, carrying a so-called Kekkei Genkai, would need to be ready for battle the moment he entered this ninja school called Hogwarts.
The best response, then, was to give the professor coming to pick him up a small shock. Enough to make them recognize his worth.
After all, the first ones sent to the battlefield were always expendable cannon fodder.
With his plan settled, Orochimaru finally relaxed and admired the invitation from this otherworldly ninja school.
The school's crest featured a snake, a lion, an eagle, and a badger.
The snake was silver.
Not very appealing.
When he got the chance, he'd change it. White would be better.
Orochimaru made a mental note.
Meanwhile, far away at Hogwarts.
Professor McGonagall burst into Dumbledore's office, her face tense, and shouted at the wizard who was calmly sipping honeyed mead.
"Albus, I think you should be aware of something. We seem to have invited a…"
She stopped mid-sentence.
She didn't know how to phrase it. As a professor, she shouldn't harbor prejudice against a student about to enroll.
But…
What that child had done was too horrifying.
Even the Dark Lord in his youth hadn't used a kitchen knife to kill a delivery owl.
It was simply… simply…
Like a naturally evil young dark wizard.
"Minerva, I think you're overreacting," Dumbledore said steadily, his gaze calm behind his half-moon glasses. "I'm already aware of what Mr. Anguis did. From what I understand, he has suffered abuse from his biological father for a long time. That's why he acted so extremely."
"It's Slake Anguis. His last name mean snake," McGonagall stressed. "You must go pick him up yourself. You can't let him go astray!"
"I have more important matters to attend to."
"What could be more important than a student, Albus!"
Many things…
Dumbledore sighed softly but didn't argue.
He knew part of the reason he was avoiding going in person was fear.
The last time, when he went to meet Tom Riddle, who would later become Voldemort, he'd used force to intimidate the boy. All it did was fuel his hunger for power.
This time, Dumbledore chose a different approach.
"For muggle-born students, their first encounter with magic is crucial," he said slowly. "The person I've chosen has a background and family situation similar to Mr. Anguis. I believe he can calm him and guide him onto the right path."
"Who are you talking about, Albus?" McGonagall hesitated. She barely dared to believe the name forming in her mind.
Dumbledore nodded sincerely, confirming her suspicion.
"You're correct, Minerva. It's Snape." [ ;-; ]