Simultaneously traversing: the pinnacle of all realms

"Cars! Cars that fly in the sky!"

Beneath the dark, heavy clouds, an old-fashioned, sky-blue Ford Anglia was swaying precariously in mid-air, traveling alongside the Hogwarts Express.

Two figures could be vaguely seen inside the car—one with red hair and the other wearing glasses.

"Are those Potter and Weasley?!" Ernie's face was practically pressed against the car window. "They're driving? Flying cars? That's too—"

"That's too dangerous!" Hannah shouted almost simultaneously. "They'll be seen by Muggles!"

Xavier looked out the car window at the swaying vehicle and had to admit, it was far more modern than a flying broomstick.

The dilapidated Anglia wobbled through the rain, Ron frantically gripping the steering wheel in the driver's seat, while Harry looked very nervous.

The roar of the engine pierced through the rain and entered the car, dull and grating.

"I hope they don't get left behind," Justin murmured.

The car was quickly left behind by the train and disappeared into the rain. The carriage was quiet for a moment, then erupted in chaos.

"Did they miss their train and then chase after it in a flying car?" Ernie was still in shock. "That's too—too Gryffindor."

Justin leaned back with a strange expression on his face, as if he was envious but also felt he shouldn't be envious. Finally, he said dryly, "If my mom knew I did this, she would bury me in the garden right now."

Hannah covered her mouth: "Oh, so you're asking me to find a garden goblin to keep you company?"

Everyone laughed.

The train arrived in the afterglow of the setting sun and slowly pulled up at Hogwarts Station.

Hagrid's massive figure was incredibly conspicuous, and his gruff voice boomed from afar: "First-year students! First-year students, this way!"

Because Hagrid was busy, Xavier didn't go up to say hello.

The route for the first-year students was the same as last year—the freshmen, greeted by Hagrid, headed down another path to take a small boat across the Great Lake.

This has been a long-standing tradition; some say it's a tribute to the founders of Hogwarts, while others suspect it's a magical ritual.

Xavier noticed that the number of new students this year was still small, roughly thirty or forty, about the same as his class last year. The young wizards followed behind Hagrid, some looking around excitedly, others clutching the hem of their robes tightly, too nervous to speak.

The castle on the opposite shore of the lake lit up in the twilight, its lights reflected on the lake's surface like a glowing ink painting. However, the few points of light made it seem more like a horror painting.

Xavier stepped off the train, crossed the platform, and mingled with the crowd of older students as he walked toward the carriage.

Only one thought was running through his mind—he hoped that Professor Dumbledore had received his letter and hadn't taken it as some second-year student's prank.

He paused slightly before getting into the carriage.

He could not see the Thestrals.

It is said that only those who have witnessed death can see Thestrals.

Xavier has never witnessed death firsthand—but he shares memories of other worlds—like the heroes and henchmen of the Demonic Cult in the Rainbow Cat world who died at the hands of the Demonic Cult, those memories have also left their mark on his soul.

It seems that the rules of Thestrals don't affect their cheat abilities.

"What's wrong with you?" Ernie, who had already boarded the carriage, leaned out to look at him.

"Nothing much, I was just wondering how this carriage moves and how it finds its way." Xavier looked away and stepped onto the carriage.

The carriage wasn't big; it was just right for four people to sit down.

Ernie immediately began to discuss in a mysterious manner what kind of magical creatures the Thestrals were—even though he couldn't see them either, it didn't stop him from commenting on them and telling a story that only he knew.

The carriage moved slowly along the road leading to the castle, passing through the stone pillar gate—although this gate was usually more of a decoration, and students rarely saw it except during school holidays.

(Just like some university class advisors.)

The castle stood in the twilight, warm yellow light shining from the windows of its towers and corner towers.

Everything was the same as last year—the oak doors, Professor McGonagall in her dark green robes, the floating candles overhead, and the enchanted ceiling in the dome.

The freshman orientation ceremony had just begun.

A group of eleven-year-old wizards lined up cautiously in a single file and sat down one by one on the four-cornered stool.

The Sorting Hat began its opening aria—this year, instead of repeating last year's admonitions for unity within the House, it took a roundabout approach, subtly alluding to external threats. It's unclear whether this was at Dumbledore's behest.

Xavier sat in the middle of the Hufflepuff table, watching the nervous little faces.

When a blond boy put on the hat, his shoulders hunched up like a frightened hedgehog. The Sorting Hat hesitated for almost two minutes before calling out "Ravenclaw" on his head. Another little girl almost put her hat on backwards, and Professor McGonagall had to turn the brim around for her, which brought a burst of good-natured laughter to the Great Hall.

As the Sorting Ceremony drew to a close, a commotion arose from the faculty section. Professors Sprout and Snape were called out and hurriedly left the Great Hall.

Professor Sprout walked quickly past the Hufflepuff table, a hint of nervousness on his round face.

About fifteen minutes later, she returned, her steps much lighter than when she left, her face bearing a complex expression—as if the shock had passed and only a sense of relief remained. As she passed the Hufflepuff table, she casually patted a student's head, whispered "It's alright," and then strode to the teachers' table, leaning down to whisper something in Dumbledore's ear.

After listening, Dumbledore blinked his blue eyes behind his half-moon spectacles, seemed to smile slightly, nodded, and said nothing.

Needless to say, Harry and Ron have arrived. Professor Sprout has probably already dealt with the incident of the Whomping Willow.

After the Sorting Ceremony, Dumbledore stood up, spread his arms, and in his usual relaxed tone announced a few points of advice—no going to the Forbidden Forest, no casting spells in the corridors, and still no approaching the fourth-floor corridor—before announcing this year's personnel changes.

He didn't mention anything about flying cars or the Whomping Willow, and didn't even glance at Gryffindor.

"This year's Defense Against the Dark Arts professor will be Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart."

When Lockhart stood up from the teachers' table to greet everyone, the reactions in the auditorium were sharply divided.

During this time, Dumbledore and Professor McGonagall quietly left, only to return a short while later.

Applause erupted at the Hufflepuff table, Ravenclaw reacted similarly, and some Slytherins clapped reservedly, but most whispered among themselves.

The reactions at the Gryffindor long table were the most interesting—most of the boys had their faces buried in their hands, including their savior and red-haired friend, who must have just come in; Ron looked like he had just swallowed a slug. On the other side, the girls clapped excitedly, and a few even stood on tiptoe to peek at the teachers' table.

Susan clapped her hands and turned to share her excitement with Xavier, only to find him cutting his steak, his attention clearly not on Lockhart.

"Don't you think he's amazing?" Susan asked.

"Well written," Xavier said after a moment's thought.

That's the truth, Lockhart's books are indeed well-written.