Orochimaru travels to Hogwarts

Chapter 37 Tonight, No One Sleeps

Orochimaru slept soundly, just as he did during lulls in the battle, never missing a chance to rest.

But some people just can't do it.

Malfoy stared at the bed curtains, his mind filled with the question of whether or not to send a letter to his father.

He really wanted to know if Slack was actually born a pure-blood family.

But he was also afraid that if he actually sent the letter, the answer he received would be different from what he had guessed.

that……

I'm afraid I'll become a disgrace to pure-blood wizards, won't I?

Malfoy stared blankly at the bed curtains, completely unable to sleep.

Fortunately, he wasn't the only one suffering from insomnia.

For professors, their bedrooms are usually right next to the classrooms where they teach, especially for professors who are not financially well-off.

Snape lived next door to the Potions classroom, in a room that had been enlarged using the Unseen Stretching Charm.

He had just returned from Dumbledore's office, and only a hint of fatigue remained on his face.

But ever since Lily died, no matter how tired he was, Snape would brew a potion called Old Dreams before going to sleep.

This is a magic potion that allows people to relive their most beautiful memories in their dreams.

Its original recipe was very complicated, but Snape improved it.

Simply use sunflower and wormwood as the base, add moonstone powder and water in order to induce sleep, and finally use magic to extract a small strand of memory to complete the potion.

This was Snape's nightly prayer before bed.

Sunflower evoked the feelings Lily once gave him, while wormwood represented his past. Whenever Snape incorporated their memories into a potion, he felt a sense of redemption for his soul.

But today is different...

As Snape watched the potion tumbling, memories of his first time joining Slytherin involuntarily surfaced in his mind.

Purebloods are on the left, mutants are on the right.

This is an unspoken rule that has remained unchanged in Slytherin for hundreds of years, a secret known only to pure-blood families that have been Slytherin for generations.

He, the man he once was, was unaware of this secret.

So after wearing the badge on his right side, Snape felt a subtle sense of discrimination from the entire house.

No one explained the reason like Slack did; Snape didn't even figure it out until his third year.

Thinking of this, Snape's brows furrowed involuntarily.

He couldn't say he was jealous, nor could he say he was regretful; he just felt a little disappointed and a little envious.

If I had been able to see through these centuries-old unspoken rules like Slack did, and cleverly conceal my origins, would the outcome have been different?

Will I end up with Lily myself?

Snape thought about it, but finally sighed.

He brewed another cauldron of potion, because he knew tonight would be a sleepless night.

However, Snape was certain that he wasn't the only one who couldn't sleep tonight.

It has to be said, Snape guessed right.

Although no lights were on in the Transformation Classroom, a pair of cat eyes gleamed silently in the darkness.

Since her husband died after accidentally touching a poisonous tentacle, Professor McGonagall has gotten used to being alone in this way.

When she transforms into a cat, she feels a strange vitality, as if she hasn't aged. This gives her a lot of courage, allowing her to face reality.

But this time...

The Animagus's transformation failed.

Even after turning into a cat, the scenes from the Great Hall tonight still lingered in Professor McGonagall's mind, gradually engulfing her like a rising tide.

Finally, the tabby cat leaped off the classroom desk and transformed back into human form.

Professor McGonagall gently adjusted her glasses, refraining from uttering her thoughts, for those words were simply too much for a new student at Hogwarts.

but……

"Slytherin is no longer an ordinary Slytherin; we must be extra careful with him," Professor McGonagall muttered to herself.

She said the same thing to Dumbledore.

But Dumbledore simply looked into his own eyes, then gently shook his head, telling himself to calm down and that he had everything planned out.

As planned...

Professor McGonagall really wanted to know what Dumbledore had planned to reassure her so confidently.

Actually...

Dumbledore knew that he didn't actually have any special plans.

Wearing a nightcap, Dumbledore had just left his warm and comfortable bed and, holding a cup of hot honey water, came to his Pensieve.

He stared at the memories in the Pensieve for a long time. Although he didn't reach in with his wand to stir them, those memories had already surfaced in his mind.

That was his first memory of encountering Tom Riddle, whom he had violently led astray.

That was also his memory of his duel with Grindelwald, that earth-shattering battle, a place he still couldn't bear to revisit. He still couldn't accept that he himself had sent Grindelwald to prison.

And now, three more memories are churning in the Pensieve.

That was his first memory of meeting Slack, the wizard who was far more mature and ambitious than Tom Riddle.

That was also his memory of taking Slack to see Nicolas Flamel. He now truly regretted using that method to persuade Slack to give up immortality.

Not only did he fail to achieve his goal, he also gave Slack a guide to immortality—the Book of Answers.

But all of these combined are not as surprising as tonight.

Dumbledore, holding his teacup, turned to look at the Sorting Hat, who was pretending to be asleep. He gazed at the greasy, dirty hat, which was many times his age.

"Can't you really tell me what Salazar Slytherin told Slytherin?" Dumbledore asked again.

"Professor Dumbledore, I am just wearing a hat; there are indeed many things that are beyond my control."

The Sorting Hat answered cruelly.

Ignoring the scalding heat of the drink, Dumbledore tilted his head back and downed it in one gulp.

He could certainly kill Slack and nip it in the bud, but then how would he be any different from Voldemort and Grindelwald?

But if I don't do this, is there anyone at Hogwarts who can change Slyke and guide him onto the right path?

As Dumbledore pondered this, the image of Harry and Slack playing in the abandoned amusement park suddenly flashed into his mind.

He couldn't help but look at the empty teacup, and sincerely asked the person who wasn't beside him:

"Grindelwald, do you think Harry can do it?"

Can Harry do it?

Harry didn't know; he just lay there with his eyes open, filled with regret, unable to sleep.

Like Malfoy, he stared blankly at the curtains of his single bed in the dormitory, watching the heavy curtains flutter before his eyes, yet he remained wide awake.

The initial excitement of being sorted into Gryffindor had worn off, and the reality of being sorted into different houses as well as my friend was immediately apparent.

Moreover, Orochimaru's situation wasn't that of an ordinary person who was assigned to Slytherin.

At that time, the Sorting Hat loudly announced in front of all the Hogwarts students that it was Salazar Slytherin's will that had sorted Orochimaru into Slytherin.

No one in the entire Hogwarts community fits the Slytherin standard better than Orochimaru. From the moment he took off the Sorting Hat, he was the Slytherin of Slytherins.

Harry, who had lived with his aunt and uncle since childhood, easily understood the atmosphere within Gryffindor House.

They welcomed themselves and were extremely hostile to Slytherin, especially Orochimaru, who was favored by Sara.

Harry, thinking of this, couldn't help but turn his head to look at Ron Weasley, who was already fast asleep. Thanks to Ron's two twin brothers, Orochimaru had already acquired a new nickname after the dinner party ended and everyone returned to the common room—

"Successor of Slytherin".

The same sound rang out in the girls' dormitory.

Hermione Granger covered her head, muttering the nickname that had spread throughout Gryffindor, finding it utterly absurd.

This morning, she was still full of anticipation for entering Hogwarts.

Although her father had told her that Slack had promised to take care of her at school, she still felt it was unnecessary.

But look at it now...

Forget about taking care of himself, Slyke has become the target of Gryffindor's hatred; everyone is hostile towards him.

And he himself was in a very difficult position because of this.

Hermione Granger frowned, bewildered by the Gryffindors' anger. She even regretted that she should have let the Sorting Hat sort her into Ravenclaw.

Now, Gryffindor is like a lion lurking in anger, ready to bite Slack at the first opportunity.

"I thought you were surprising enough, but I still underestimated you, Slack."

Hermione Granger, unable to sleep no matter what, couldn't help but sigh.

She simply rolled out of bed, put on her clothes, sat down at her desk, and began to preview the next day's lessons.

This was the most relaxing thing Hermione could find.

But even though it's the same way to relax, some people have already lost their way.

Yena Yaxley is such a person.

She returned to her dormitory as if nothing had happened, then curled up on her bed away from the fireplace, like a caterpillar trapped in its cocoon, trapped in her thick blankets, spending the sleepless night.

Usually at times like this, her pet would comfort her, crawling up her arm and finally settling on her collarbone, licking her neck with its scarlet tongue.

But not anymore.

Because she had already consigned that pure white snake, and the snake had found a new owner.

This is truly an embarrassing situation.

Yena Yaxley curled up even tighter, unlike the older sister she usually was; at this moment, she looked like a little girl who had lost the protection of her parents.

The tighter she curled up, the more the thoughts in her mind lingered.

She was a little confused about her own thoughts. Did she hope that Slack was the person her mother was talking about, or did she hope that Slack was just an ordinary little wizard?

Yena Yaxley couldn't understand it. She kept her eyes open, unable to sleep, until the sunlight at four in the morning pierced through the thick surface of the lake, transmitting the faintest light to the Slytherin bedroom at the bottom of the lake.

Here, a pair of pale yellow vertical pupils, resembling those of a snake, slowly opened.

In this sleepless night, Orochimaru slept soundly all night and got up very early.

He habitually pulled out the chef's knife from his luggage and tucked it behind his waist, then took out his wand and tucked it to the other side.

After completing these two tasks, he belatedly touched the book of answers, which was only the size of a coin, in his pocket.

He didn't want to look at the answer because it was time to train.

For ninjas, chakra is a product of the combination of body and mind, so daily training is essential.

When Orochimaru pushed open the door to his dormitory and walked out of the rest room, he suddenly laughed.

He hadn't attended school for nearly fifty years since graduating from the Ninja Academy, and he was really looking forward to his first day of school.