Simultaneously traversing: the pinnacle of all realms

Lucius Malfoy waited a long time after the commotion in Diagon Alley.

As a result, Hogwarts was incredibly calm.

The only student sent to the medical wing was Katie Bell from Gryffindor—she had scraped her shoulder with a walking ball during Quidditch practice, and Mrs. Pomfrey healed her in less than five minutes.

Lucius even wrote a letter later, in his capacity as a school board member, inquiring about the school's recent safety situation. Dumbledore replied with a polite but empty letter, the gist of which was that everything was fine and he thanked him for his concern.

After reading it, Lucius folded the parchment, placed it back on the table expressionlessly, and then laughed out loud—Voldemort was indeed useless, as was his diary.

The diary he slipped to the Weasley's youngest daughter simply vanished without a trace.

Lucius, of course, had no idea that the diary was now lying quietly in a locked cabinet in Dumbledore's office, and it would probably never have the chance to control anyone to write a single word.

Moreover, his behavior has already caught Dumbledore's attention—how dare he extend his claws into Hogwarts to harm his students, and keep changing his tune, does he really think he's just an ordinary centenarian? (╯▔皿▔)╯.

Gilderoy Lockhart's Defense Against the Dark Arts class lived up to expectations, maintaining the same teaching quality as in the first month—he still read long passages from his own works in class and then asked students to act out the characters in the book.

Ever since that catastrophic house-elf chaos that occurred during the Defense Against the Dark Arts classes in Gryffindor and Slytherin—a event worthy of being recorded in Hogwarts history, which was supposedly prevented from escalating further by Hermione Granger's miraculous intervention—Lockhart has become even more enthusiastic about his "dramatic" performances.

By now, almost all the students can see that he is a good-for-nothing who knows nothing.

Some fifth-grade wizards were even more devastated, because they still had to take the OWLs exam.

During the same week's Charms class, Professor Flitwick stood atop his thick stack of books, his high-pitched voice echoing throughout the classroom.

"Today we're going to learn a very useful spell—'Petrify All'. It can immobilize a target, freezing them in place. This spell is extremely useful for defense and dealing with dangerous situations. Please watch my demonstration—" He waved his wand, and a beam of silver light shot out, freezing a flailing practice dummy in place.

Xavier sometimes thought that it wouldn't be bad for Professor Flitwick to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts—the two courses do have a lot of overlap in content.

Xavier sat in the front row listening attentively, though his mind was somewhat wandering.

He was thinking about the "Burning Flame" spell that Professor Flitwick had taught him in his first year—although he could now cast it silently.

But recently something has been bothering him – in the kitchen, he saw house-elves freely adjusting the size of the flames to control the cooking temperature, which impressed him greatly.

He had a good idea for this, and with the help of his house-elves, he had been trying to make the flames change to different colors.

He should have thought of this much earlier.

Under normal circumstances, the color of a flame mainly reflects its temperature: dark red is about 600 to 800 degrees Celsius, deep red to cherry red is about 800 to 1000 degrees Celsius, orange is about 1000 to 1200 degrees Celsius, bright yellow is about 1200 to 1400 degrees Celsius, yellowish-white is about 1400 to 1600 degrees Celsius, dazzling white is above 1600 degrees Celsius, and bluish-white to blue is even above 2000 degrees Celsius.

Through his efforts over this period, he has been able to turn the flames white, which is something to celebrate.

Xavier mentally applauded himself.

This isn't a cursed demonic fire like Fiendfire; it's pure high temperature, and there's still room for improvement.

Fiendfire can devour flammable materials and transform into a monster-like form. Ordinary water cannot extinguish it; it can only be stopped by a special dispelling spell. This is also one of the few spells that can destroy Horcruxes.

However, such dangerous spells are almost impossible to learn at Hogwarts; only some dark wizards and pure-blood wizards possess them.

That's understandable, actually.

After all, Fiendfire is a very difficult magic to control. Wizards who are not skilled enough often find that when they cast it, they cannot control it and do not know how to break it, which can harm themselves and cause unnecessary damage.

Although the upgraded "Blazing Flame" is still not as unstoppable as "Fiercefire," it has its advantages in certain situations.

For example, solid non-combustible materials can block flammable fire; stone doors and walls can trap flammable fire in a room and prevent it from spreading.

But this is no problem for the extremely high temperatures of the "raging flames," which can burn through them directly. Rocks will crack, steel will melt... as long as the temperature is high enough, almost nothing can stop it.

Xavier had high hopes for this curse.

The potions class has been teaching "swelling potion" for some time now.

Xavier and Justin's collaboration went relatively smoothly; their finished product was close to the textbook description of "pale green with a faint fluorescent glow." Snape glanced at it as he passed by, neither adding nor deducting points, which actually indicated that they had done a good job.

In herbalism class, Professor Sprout led them in repotting mandrakes.

The mandrakes that Professor Sprout carefully selected this year are still small, and their calls can only make people dizzy for a few minutes, not enough to knock them unconscious.

"Remember, you must be quick when repotting."

Professor Sprout, with a kind smile on his round face, said, "Mandragula don't like to be exposed to air for long periods. Their root systems are very sensitive—Mr. Xavier did a good job, very decisively."

Xavier carefully transplanted a mandrake into its new pot, filled it with soil, and tamped it down—the whole process took no more than twenty seconds. Hannah gave him a thumbs-up.

Strangely enough, perhaps because of his magical creature abilities, the mandrake was very obedient in his hands, and even seemed to depend on him.

The peaceful days continued until the first Saturday of November.

That day was a Quidditch match between Gryffindor and Slytherin, and Xavier and Ernie were sitting in the stands together.

Taking a break now and then is never a bad thing, and Xavier quite enjoys joining in the fun as long as he's not too busy.

Shortly after the game began, almost everyone noticed that something was wrong.

A roaming ball chased after Harry like a madman.

Normally, the trajectory of a Blink ball should be random, and it will attack the player closest to it or the most conspicuous one. But this one was clearly different—it bypassed all other players and chased only Harry.

Lee Jordan was shouting and yelling in the commentary booth, his usually fluent speech stumbling over its words. He tried to mask his nervousness with jokes, but Xavier could hear the growing anxiety in his voice.

"What's going on?" Ernie shouted from the side.

"I don't know, it looks like something unexpected happened," Xavier said.

He remembered Dobby—the house-elf who was using magic to interfere with the game, trying to lure the ball towards Harry in the hopes of injuring him and sending him away from Hogwarts.

Although the idea is peculiar—injuring someone to protect them—it's something Dobby—the house-elf who burned himself with an iron and smashed cakes on guests' heads—could come up with.

The Malfoy elf knew Lucius intended to harm Hogwarts, but he was unaware that the danger had already been extinguished by Xavier.

Oh, poor Dobby, he just wanted to keep Harry away from the dangerous Hogwarts.

But Xavier thought of something—weren't Hogwarts' house-elves allowed to come and go from the school at will?

Or does Dumbledore know about this? Perhaps I could take some time to go to the kitchen and ask the elves.

Harry dodged left and right, but the ball still crashed into him from behind, hitting his arm squarely, and Harry fell off the broom—all the cheers stopped abruptly.

"Oh, Merlin—" Ernie's face turned pale.

At that height, Harry might be in serious trouble.