The book was surprisingly well written given the irregular quality of the magical book industry in general.
It began with a brief overview of how the Ministry of Magic had come to be; its rule encompassed the whole of Great Britain, as well as Ireland and many of the islands surrounding, and it had been officially founded in 1707, though it had worked in some form since the early 1500s. The first governing body had been named "The Government of His Legacy", actually, an allusion to how the founders felt their fealty went to the memory of Merlin rather than any muggle ruler. This only changed when a deal was made (the details left unexplained) and the current Ministry was formed under the muggle Monarch's nominal rule.
The entirety of this information was summarized as if it would be common knowledge to the reader. Given that Harry was only vaguely aware of some of what was mentioned (Binns, as well as being inordinately focused on Goblins, also had a love affair with the late 1700s to the point that the two topics were all Harry could remember the ghost speaking of), Harry felt as if the author should've spent far more time on it, but then it wasn't as if it was the books focus.
The rest of the book tackled magical Europe, with only brief paragraphs about the rest of the world at the end of the book (magical Asia was elitist, magical Africa labeled underdeveloped, and magical America and Australia not mentioned at all.)
Nonetheless he, and Hermione beside him, dove in and learned about what information the book did have to offer. The magical continent, the two readers quickly learned, held absolutely no resemblance to its non-magical counterpart.
There were only seven countries, for one; Magical Britain, Magical France, Hiberia, the Norse Confederation, the Eternal Empire (also known as the Magical Mediterranean Alliance), Macedonia, and the Magical Mitteleuropa (which had functionally fallen apart following the war on Grindlewald, but was still treated as a single entity at the time that the book was written while its magical population tried to figure out what the hell to do.)
No country had the same system of government, either—Magical Britain's was based around the Wizengamot and held more than a few similarities to the British Parliament, while Magical France's was more reflective of its nonmagical pre-Napoleon age.
Hiberia was oddly communist, while the Norse Confederation was just that—a confederation which only acted in lock step on international issues. The Eternal Empire was comparatively a federal system, and Macedonia was run as a merchant republic.
Mitteleuropa had been moving towards democracy prior to Grindlewald, but had obviously gotten a bit sidetracked.
Most importantly, each and every country agreed on one thing: the largest threat to their continued existence wasn't each other, or even nonmagicals. It was dark lords.
Dark lords, the book explained, had been what had destroyed nearly every former country in history. Even those they didn't destroy they ruined—the Eternal Empire had dominated magical progress for centuries until one too many dark lords made the country slip into obscurity. Hiberia, too, had once been quite strong, as had every other European country at one time or another. Mitteleuropa had, at the time of the book's writing, been the latest to fall to the trend, but Harry knew better.
If he didn't succeed Magical Britain wouldn't last another decade.
"That's... odd." Hermione said, flipping through the book again.
"What?" Harry asked. Yeah, the information hadn't been what he was expecting, but he hadn't noticed any huge issues.
"It's just... well, it defines dark lords as magical folk so powerful as to force their decisions onto others."
Harry thought of Voldemort. "Seems to fit to me."
"I mean, yes, but... it also fits people who aren't dark lords." Then, before Harry could respond— "I don't mean that forcing people to do what you want them to do is good. I just... I mean, Merlin was incredibly powerful, and he used that power to force changes. I'm not saying that those changes weren't good in and of themselves, but..."
Harry... hadn't thought of that. "Dumbledore too, actually." He said after a few seconds. "He's the leader or just about of basically everything important in magical Britain, and based on the way people talk about him he could get things done—" Harry snapped his fingers. "Like that. Though, I don't know if he has done it."
Hermione looked distraught. "But he has! Not for most things, admittedly. But after the Grindelwald War it was he who made sure Grindelwald wasn't killed, only locked up for the rest of his life, and all the books outright admit that his word was enough to determine a lot of the punishments carried out against You-Know-Who's followers!"
"But no one thinks Dumbledore's a dark lord." Harry pointed out. "Merlin either."
"No," Hermione said, "but by... Smith's definition, they'd both count."
"So are they? Or is the definition wrong?" Harry asked.
"The definition must be wrong!" Hermione said. "There is no way—I mean, really. Dumbledore's done so much good, it's just that—that—"
"That the author's wrong?"
"That the author's definition is incomplete." Hermione said. "It needs to have something about, about outcomes or—or following correct judicial procedure, or something."
Harry frowned. It wasn't as if a sham trial was much better than none at all, in his experience, unless you had someone like Dumbledore on your side. And as for outcomes... well, how would you determine those before something even started? Voldemort—and Grindelwald too, for that matter—seemed pretty damn certain their morals were the right ones, and for all that he vehemently disagreed there did seem to be a disturbingly large section of the wizarding world that didn't. "Who determines that? I mean, about whether the outcomes are going to be good or bad?"
"There's nothing to determine, is there?" Hermione said. "It's clear enough."
"I—" The bell rang; dinner time.
"Oh, is it that late already? I'd meant to finish one of my essays!" Hermione said, racing to pack up all of her things. "Maybe if I eat quickly enough I'll have time to get a good head start on it before lights out." Before Harry even had time to collect his own things and dump the book in the return tray she'd dashed off.
Harry followed reluctantly along. As near as he could figure (Hermione's certainty of overarching morality notwithstanding), all that determined whether or not you were a dark lord was whether you won. After all, no dark lord in history had actually managed to accomplish their goals for very long, while the Dumbledores and Merlins of the world at least managed to make some notable headway in parts of their agendas.
He was overthinking this, Harry finally decided during dinner, and it wasn't as if it was particularly relevant anyway. He pushed the topic out of his mind and instead began badgering Neville to join him, Dean, and Seamus in a game of footie before bed (Ron had categorically refused already, and Joshua was going to go hang out with his brother.)
Three days later Harry woke up at two am.
It was Halloween.
Harry... Harry really, really, really didn't like Halloween. Honestly, even his pre-Hogwarts holidays hadn't been great: he'd spent most of them locked in the cupboard the first time, and while he was allowed out the second Dudley wasn't allowed to go trick-or-treating (likely so they didn't have to explain why they let their son but not their nephew) so the day was marked by one tantrum after another and Harry and Aunt Petunia working overtime to give anything to Dudley to make him Shut Up.
So.
Not a good holiday.
And, of course, now he had to go through another one.
He still hadn't come up with a plan to deal with Professor Quirrell—Harry had never quite been able to understand the man enough to predict his actions if Harry changed something, much less stop them—which meant that in a few hours there would almost definitely be a troll running around the school.
Well, more than a few hours—it was two in the morning.
Harry grimaced at the ceiling. He'd come up with a game plan weeks ago, of course; he'd do his best to make sure no one left the Great Hall (he still had no idea why they had last time) and make sure none of his friends wandered off before the feast besides, but...
But nothing, Harry told his brain. It was two am, and he was going back to sleep.
Several hours later, as the boys in the dorm began to struggle out of bed and down to breakfast, Neville blinked at Harry.
"You okay mate?"
"Yeah. Why?"
"You look... not okay."
Of course he did, Harry thought irritably. Wouldn't you if you'd been staring at the ceiling for hours? "It's just... the date, you know?"
"What—oh. Oh. Um, I'm... oh." Neville said, flushing in embarrassment. Harry felt kind of bad about that, actually. Most people tended to forget that his parents had died on Halloween, and to be perfectly honest the date had gone so long without meaning for Harry that even he put little emotional value in it. But it was, at the end of the day, a bit of an asshole move for the entire day to be a celebration with no thought of the lives lost of not only his parents, but also everyone else who'd fought and died leading up to the date a decade before. So Harry felt kind of justified, honestly.
"It's fine." Harry said. "You know, I didn't even know when they died until this summer?" That was true, actually. Aunt Petunia had known they'd died in October (the note had apparently made that clear), but she'd never actually been told the specific date.
Neville stared at him. "You didn't know?!" Now the rest of the boys (who had been pretending not to listen in while they struggled with their ties) were staring too.
"Nope." Harry said. "Honestly, I don't even know how to commemorate the date, you know? I've never mourned anyone before, and I feel like I should mourn them, but I don't know how." This was also true. Harry liked telling the truth—it was far more freeing then lying, even by omission.
"That's honestly really sad." Joshua said.
"We'll have to do something." Dean mumbled. "Can't just... let it go unnoticed, you know? Hey, are there any magical grieving practices?"
"What do you mean?" Ron asked. The boys glanced at each other and, assured that everyone had everything, began stampeding down the stairs.
"Like... my family visits my grandmother's grave on the anniversary of her death and on her birthday, right, and obviously can't do that because he's here, but is there anything else he can do? Like, light a candle or something?"
"Why would he light a candle?" Ron said.
"I can't think of anything." Joshua said.
"Mine, um, my mother's side, I mean, plants trees in honor of the dead and you're supposed to visit the, the copse to mourn." Neville said.
"Can't do that either, can he?" Seamus snarked.
"No, I can't." Harry said slowly. "But maybe I could plant something today or something. Make a new tradition, you know?"
"We can leave lunch early." Neville said. "We've got Herbology right after, so we know where Professor Sprout is, and she's really nice—she probably has some seeds or something."
Harry nodded, then moved to ask Ron if he'd finished Quirrell's essay (Harry was fairly sure the man/men just assigned random grades, so it wasn't as if it mattered, but it was time for a change of topic) when he heard a shout.
"Potter!"
"What's up, Malfoy?" Harry said. He was a bit confused; since the flying incident the boy had avoided him entirely.
"Want to sit with us for breakfast?"
Harry blinked. His neighboring Gryffindors gaped. The Slytherins looked just as surprised, for all that they put much more effort into hiding it. Malfoy... looked sincere.
"Um, not today, but I'll hang out with you tomorrow, okay?" He said.
Malfoy nodded. "That would be acceptable. See you then; well, actually, see you in Potions at eleven."
He and his goons made their way back to the Slytherin table, apparently uncaring of the stares their actions had garnered.
"Why'd you agree to eat with a snake?" Ron snapped.
"No reason not to, is there?" Harry said.
Ron looked as if he was about to say something else, but before he could Joshua had grabbed a roll and stuffed it in his mouth. "It's too early to start a fight, and Harry doesn't exactly look ready to deal with it." He said. Ron glanced at Harry, then agreed.
Harry hid a wince—he really should have checked a mirror in the dorm before coming down, if his countenance was that awful. Oh well, too late for that and he wasn't going to be using any of the other restrooms today, so he'd have to live with it.
After breakfast came Defense which was surprisingly bearable (he wondered if Quirrell was attempting to save his strength), then Potions (Snape did not have the same motivation.) Following a quick meal Harry and Neville trekked down to the greenhouses as agreed.
"Professor Sprout?" Neville called, taking the lead.
"Oh!" She said, hopping up from a stool where she'd been taking her own meal. "I hadn't expected anyone to arrive this early."
"Yes, sorry about that. It's just, um..."
"I found out that today was the anniversary of my parents' death this summer." Harry explained. "The other boys suggested I do something to commemorate it, so I've decided to plant something in honor of them. Do you have any recommendations?"
To her credit, Professor Sprout did not let an ounce of pity wipe her features. Instead she shuffled over to one of the huge cabinets that doubled as planter-pedestals and shuffled through the drawers.
"I've got some Lavender here, which should be planted in the fall. It's a pretty little flower, and is a lovely ingredient to use in calming, relaxing, and sleeping potions. Good scent, too. How's that? I'd prefer you not to plant something overtly magical until third year, mind."
"That sounds good." Harry said.
She grabbed the packets, and the three of them made their way to a disused corner of the greenhouse, where she whipped together the necessary planter, dirt, fertilizer, and seeds in a matter of seconds.
"Alright, so the first thing you will want to do is..."
By the time the rest of the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs had arrived the seeds had been made as comfortable as possible and Harry found himself unexpectedly calmer than he had been at lunch.
"How'd it go?" Ron whispered.
"Good." Harry whispered back. "Really good, actually."
Of course, after Herbology and Charms came dinner.
And with dinner came a garlicy man in purple robes, bursting in less than fifteen minutes in and shouting "Troll!" before fainting. So that kind of got rid of Harry's serenity.