Chapter 20

An owl flew into the hall and landed precisely in front of Allen.

Allen paid it no mind; he had been at school long enough to have received only one letter from Professor McGonagall, and never before had an owl delivered anything to him—he assumed this was another owl that had mistaken him for someone else.

But the owl hopped around in front of him, persistently displaying the letter tied to its leg. Allen, puzzled, took the letter. He had never seen this owl before—who could be writing to him?

As he reached to unfold it, the owl hopped onto his hand, squawking wildly and extending its other leg, which bore a small money pouch.

“Who’s this cheap bastard? Sending a letter with collect on delivery!” Allen muttered inwardly.

Yet the owl still refused to leave.

After fumbling in his pocket for a long while, Allen finally pulled out four bronze Knuts and reluctantly placed them into the owl’s pouch.

But the owl remained dissatisfied, hopping up and down on the table.

“That’s all I have! Really! I only have this much! I’ll pay you the missing Knut next time!” Allen whispered.

The owl, evidently encountering such a stingy wizard for the first time, pecked Allen hard and flew off.

“Poverty is terrible—even a bird looks down on you!” Allen sighed as he opened the letter.

Only after reading it did Allen realize it was the 10th— the letter was from Professor Snape, briefly instructing him to visit his office after afternoon classes to collect this month’s potion for maintaining his physical condition.

“No wonder he’s so cheap—it’s from that old snake, Snape!” Allen muttered under his breath.

Professor Snape, for well-known reasons, despised Harry Potter. Allen had seen this on videos, so Snape often tormented him during Potions class—and since Allen was close to Harry, he was caught in the crossfire by association.

“I’ve got to find a way to earn money! Life without gold is unbearable—even birds look down on you!” Allen resolved inwardly.

Time quickly reached the end of afternoon classes. Allen bid farewell to his roommate and arrived before Professor Snape’s office. After much hesitation, he finally knocked.

The door opened silently. Professor Snape appeared, face taut.

Seeing it was Allen, he stepped aside to let him in, pointing to a chair in the room. “The potion isn’t ready yet. Wait there.”

Allen sat obediently on the chair, then realized Professor Snape had vanished. A sense of unease crept over him. He glanced around the room: it was tidy, sparsely furnished, with a cabinet filled with countless vials and jars. In the corner, a cauldron steamed gently.

There was another door in the room—likely a private washroom.

Allen waited a while longer, still seeing no sign of Snape. His tension eased, his mind began to wander. He recalled a short video from his past life about why Snape’s hair was so oily.

The Potter family, as one of the Sacred Twenty-Eight pure-blood houses, ran a core business: shampoo. Potter-branded shampoo held a monopoly in the magical world. Thus, Snape, who hated the Potters, refused to use shampoo—no, he refused to wash his hair at all.

Thinking of this, Allen’s curiosity flared. He suddenly wanted to check if Snape’s washroom had any shampoo!

After confirming no one else was in the room, he acted decisively. He moved swiftly to the washroom door, about to open it—when a mocking voice came from behind.

“Are all of Potter’s friends so ill-mannered?” It was Professor Snape, speaking in a slow, theatrical tone.

Allen froze, then slowly turned around.

He forced a nervous smile. “Professor, I suddenly have a stomachache—I need to use the washroom.”

Professor Snape stared at him coldly, saying nothing.

Allen couldn’t speak.

Snape’s expression grew colder. He snorted, turned, and walked to the cauldron in the corner, lifting the lid. Inside was a pot of red potion.

Allen, knowing he was in the wrong, awkwardly changed the subject. “Professor, why is this potion a different color from the one I drank before?”

Snape’s face remained tight. “It’s specially formulated for you—better stabilizes your condition. Drink it without worry.”

As he spoke, he dropped something into the cauldron. The potion instantly turned a bright green, thick and viscous, bubbling continuously.

He fetched a wide-mouthed cup, seemingly made of bone, and scooped out a full measure. Thick green potion clung to the cup’s sides, glaringly visible in the dim room.

He handed it to Allen. “Drink, Finis.”

Allen took the cup numbly. Suddenly, the scene felt eerily familiar—but he couldn’t place where he’d seen it before.

Seeing Allen dazed, Snape spoke again, voice low. “This is your fate.”

In that instant, Allen’s mind flashed—he recognized it! This was the CG scene from *Warcraft: Drahno’s King*, when Gul’dan handed the Blood of Mannoroth to Grommash!

Could it be... Professor Snape was also a transmigrator? He had seen Allen during yesterday's flying lesson, recognized him as a transmigrator, and deliberately recreated this iconic Warcraft scene—with those two famous lines—to signal him? Was this a secret code?

Allen mentally reconstructed the entire scenario. His heart sank. Had his identity as a transmigrator been exposed? But maybe it wasn’t so bad—two transmigrators supporting each other in this world was better than struggling alone. Was he about to gain a powerful ally?

He looked up, trying to read Snape’s expression—but the room was too dark for him to make out anything clearly.

Forget it. First, think of how to respond.

He’d already revealed his identity. Snape could have hidden his own forever—but now he’d come forward to signal him. How great was that kindness? Allen made his decision.

He strained his memory, trying to recall the next line from the CG.

He thought for a long while. Snape’s impatience grew. Finally, Allen hesitantly replied: “Then… what is the price?”

Snape blinked. “No price. Professor Dumbledore has arranged for it to be provided free during your time here. Didn’t Professor McGonagall tell you?”

But Allen was lost in his own mental loop.

Was one line not enough? Right! Professor just said two lines—he should reply with two too. What was the second line?

Of course—it must be this one!

Allen looked directly into Snape’s eyes and whispered:

“Orcs never be slaves!”