Harry Potter and the Rebirth

"If saying sorry is useful, what's the point of having a teacher?" Simo was overwhelmed by the pain in his foot. His ability to make objects explode at any time seemed to have taken effect in his body at this moment.

The anger in his heart seemed to be fanned by someone, growing bigger and bigger until it almost swallowed him up.

But he still maintained a bit of rationality. The education he received in the past few years told him that it was wrong to get angry like this. Seamus' chest began to shake up and down. Hermione, who was still at the door, noticed something was wrong. She hurriedly picked up the book on the ground, stuffed it into Neville's arms, and pulled him away quickly.

"I'm sorry." While Neville was being pulled away by Hermione, he also apologized to Seamus. It was indeed his book that hit Seamus' foot.

"Mr. Finnigan--" Snape dragged out his long and strange tone and walked to the back of the classroom. The students who were still there made way for him and looked at Seamus who suddenly got angry in surprise.

"You--" After hearing the professor's voice, the anger in Simo's heart was like being poured with a basin of cold water. It did extinguish the anger, but it made his heart even colder.

He did not hear clearly what words Snape uttered from his lips. He packed his schoolbag in a daze, waited for Snape to close his mouth, looked at Harry with a strange expression behind him, and walked out of the classroom in a daze.

"Harry, come and eat." Ron walked up, waited for Harry to pack his bag, and walked towards the cafeteria together.

In an office in the Ministry of Magic, a clerk had the Daily Prophet on his desk, and he was sleeping soundly on it. On the desk stood a stone pillar with light flashing on it and emitting a buzzing warning sound.

The man seemed a little sleepy. He raised his hand and pressed a button on the table. The light disappeared and the buzzing sound stopped. He stretched with satisfaction and continued to lie down to sleep.

The department he worked in was an extremely quiet one, with only one incident having occurred there since its establishment. The last incident had been more than ten years ago. He had put in a lot of effort and used a lot of connections to get to this position.

"Langdon, did you notice anything unusual?"

The man stretched himself and muttered, "What could have happened? If anything happened, wouldn't I know it first?"

"That's good." Gradually, the room quieted down and Langdon lay down on the table again. He put a few thick books on his desk, stretched out his arms, and lowered his head heavily again.

After Harry finished his meal, he said goodbye to Ron who had invited him to go to the library, and returned to the dormitory. There were two people in the dormitory. Near the innermost end, there was a small bulge on Seamus' bed, and Neville was also lying on the bed, but his eyes were red.

If you need an outlet for your emotions, if you need to sacrifice someone, if you need someone to do the work that no one else wants to do, then the honest, weak, and quiet person will usually be the best option.

Because I am honest, I am always the one who compromises. Because I am honest, I will not bear grudges against others. Because I am honest, I will conscientiously complete the tasks assigned by others for no reason, and I often find problems in myself.

Why didn't Seamus dare to speak to Harry, but turned to Neville, who had always been friendly with him? Seeking benefits and avoiding harm is everyone's nature hidden deep in their hearts, and everything just needs a reason.

Harry sensed the weird atmosphere and immediately felt a little regretful. He decided to go to the Room of Requirement next time. It would be a bad idea to go out now, otherwise it would be too obvious.

He could choose the environment in the cabin as he pleased. He looked at the two people who were arguing, walked silently to his bed, opened the quilt and lay down on it. He had many classes to learn today, and fortunately he had no classes in the afternoon, so he didn't need to set the alarm. Silence spread among the three people.

"You came?"

"Ah."

"What class do I have today?"

"Let me see. One course is about popular psychology, one is about interpersonal relationships, and the other one continues to talk about the history of the Muggle world." Gryffindor responded.

"Why do I feel like I'm learning less and less about physics and chemistry lately?" Harry was a little confused, thinking about his first exposure to those things.

Even though he had seen some of this before going to Hogwarts, on a deeper level he still felt a little overwhelmed when he saw him. Now that he didn't have to study, he was really happy.

But he was afraid that he would have to learn it again in the future, so he secretly inquired about it.

"There is so much knowledge in the world. How can you, one person, no, two people, master it all in such a short time?" Gryffindor said, "The best you can do is to grasp the main ideas of mainstream books and ignore the minor ones. It's more about quality than quantity. When you have learned enough, I will send you to some places to put it into practice."

"As for the physics and chemistry you mentioned, those are only needed by scientists and inventors. You only need to learn some of them to understand the nature of your own magic. They won't be of much help to you."

"But literature is what trains politicians," Gryffindor said calmly.

Harry thought about it and felt that it seemed to be the case, but practice? What does this mean?

When the Gryffindor saw the teacher coming, he led Harry into the corresponding classroom and then disappeared.

Harry calmed himself down, walked to the table and opened the book on it.

The one displayed at the top is "The Crowd".

Oh? Very interesting.

A short, spirited old man with gray hair walked to the front with a cane.

Harry stood up and bowed slightly to the teacher.

"Come on, come on, good boy." The old man grinned, and the wrinkles on his face were like a blooming chrysanthemum. Harry looked at the old man with admiration.

He is another great figure in the academic world, with many works and many students all over the world. He enjoys a good reputation internationally and is recognized as the father of psychology.

The old man held the book in his hand and said, "This was written by one of my juniors. I admired him very much at that time. It is really amazing that he can write a work with such profound insights at such an age."

Harry flipped it open and took a look. His head felt a little dizzy. Some of the words were clearly in his native language, but he couldn't understand them.

"Teacher, I don't quite understand." Harry smiled embarrassedly. After all, this was something he had never come into contact with before. If he thought about it any further, his brain would stop working.

"It's okay, it's okay," the old man comforted Harry, "We are only learning the theory today. You will have the opportunity to apply the practical part. Then you will know what this book means."

"Ah, application?" This was the second time Harry heard this word today, and he had a bad feeling in his heart. What on earth was he supposed to do?