Harry Potter: Glory Bows to Me

After dinner, Harry mysteriously entered the Slytherin common room carrying a huge package, his face full of suppressed pride.

"Look, look!" He excitedly tore open the package, and inside was a giant chocolate cake that was as wide as a person. It was piled high with cream and the words "The Strongest Combination" were written crookedly in cream.

Draco lifted his eyelids and took a quick look, his expression very complicated: "...Harry, this handwriting looks more dangerous than your Quidditch flying."

"Hey!" Harry protested, picking up the spoon and digging in without any hesitation, "This is a celebratory cake that I specially asked the house-elves in the kitchen to help make! For our trio! Have a bite and celebrate our great victory!"

He held a spoonful of cream towards Draco and smiled sincerely.

Draco's expression was subtle, as if he was weighing the choice between this piece of cake and his own noble image. Finally, he snorted, picked up a small piece of the edge, and put it into his mouth very elegantly.

"...Not bad." He commented modestly, although he took another large piece as if nothing had happened the next second.

Amanta sat on the sofa, flipping through a thick book called "Advanced Potion Preparation Guide", and watched the two boys fighting for the cake like children, and couldn't help but smile.

Harry took a big bite of the cake and said incoherently, "Amanta, have a piece too - don't always be an ice queen, we have to celebrate today!"

Amanta put down the book, took the small plate handed to her by Harry, took a small sip gracefully, and said lightly: "Okay, the Ice Queen also needs to replenish sugar."

Draco snorted and gave Harry a cold look. "It's because the Ice Queen has good taste that she knows better than to bury her face in the cake like some people do."

Harry said confidently: "That's called enjoyment! Do you understand?"

At this moment, heavy footsteps were heard at the door of the lounge.

"I smell cake." Goyle rushed in with a gruff cry, followed closely by Crabbe, his two pairs of green eyes staring at the huge cake on the table, his eyeballs almost popping out.

"Harry, did you get it? Great, can we -"

Crabbe rubbed his hands together and smiled obsequiously.

Harry waved his hand generously: "Of course! Come on, brothers!"

Goyle and Crabbe immediately rushed over like two hungry wolves. Their movements were amazingly fast and they dug out one third of the cake in just a few moves.

Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust, as if he was looking at two descendants of Death Eaters wallowing in the mud: "Please, can you eat in a more noble manner?"

"As long as it tastes good!" Gore said vaguely with his mouth full of cream.

Amidst the chaos, Blaise Zabini walked in slowly, followed by Theodore Nott.

Blaise leaned against the door frame, lazily looking at the messy lounge, a chilly smile appeared at the corner of his mouth: "If I remember correctly, this is the Slytherin lounge, not the kitchen stew competition site?"

Theodore added coldly: "It's so lively. I thought we entered the wrong door and walked to the Gryffindor side."

"Stop talking nonsense and come and eat cake!" Harry waved his hand, as enthusiastic as a vendor soliciting customers.

Bryce raised his eyebrows, but finally stepped closer, picked up a small piece, and took a bite elegantly.

"It tastes okay." He commented reluctantly.

Theodore squinted his eyes and looked at Amanta: "By the way, you three really impressed me yesterday."

Draco coughed lightly, as if trying to hide the barely perceptible red on the tip of his ear, and raised his chin proudly and awkwardly.

Harry grabbed the plate and raised it to Amanta and Draco: "Cheers to our greatest trio - no, cheers to the cake!"

Amanta pursed her lips helplessly, but finally raised the small plate and gently touched Harry's.

Draco raised his fork reluctantly, but the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up.

Amidst the laughter, an owl flew silently into the lounge and landed on the coffee table in front of Amanta.

Its feathers were snow-white, its eyes were as black as ink, and there was a letter tied to its leg, neatly rolled up.

Amanta put away her smile, took down the letter, and unfolded it slightly. The familiar and elegant handwriting came into view -

[Miss Amanta, if you have time, I would like to chat with you on the west side of the library.]

Signed: Julius Hoffmann.

The girl's eyes moved slightly, her fingertips gently stroked the letter paper, and there was a hint of thoughtfulness in her eyes.

In the noisy lounge, the sweet aroma of cake still permeates.

And the unknown undercurrent is surging silently underground.