(A/N: Thank you to my now two followers and favorite! (hahaha) This is my first story, so a review would be greatly appreciated. Also, tell your fiends about this story! It means a lot to me. Plenty more content to come soon!)

I do not own Harry Potter or any relating material created by J.K. Rowling, although I do own a Barcelona FC poster.

Chapter 2 (Revelation)

The Ministry had much rebuilding to do, as did Hogwarts, the once proud school. Its towers had been reduced to stone pillars, its courtyard buried underneath rubble, its classrooms sitting below a layer of dust. The school year was halted, of course, on order of the Ministry and a sullen Professor McGonogal. Unfortunately, no one could see the benefit in trusting the government, which was reduced to almost nothing, with former Death Eaters turning themselves in or fleeing. But still, the wizarding world persevered, as it always does.

To say that only England was impacted would be far from the truth, as the previously feared Voldemort's campaign was an international one. Beauxbatons and Durmstrang remained stronger than Hogwarts in terms of structure, due to the heavy density of Dark Lord supporters concentrated in our English school.

But before all else was the funeral.

The dead, including the likes of Lupin, Tonks, Lavender Brown, Colin Creevy, and Fred Weasley, were treated with the utmost respect. A public ceremony was held by the surviving teachers only a day after the Final Battle, as it had now been referred to. Some parents elected to take their children's' remains home with them. Others, including Molly and Arthur Weasley, as well as Andromeda Tonks, the one member of their immediate family (not taking into account the young Teddy), decided to let their kin be buried at Hogwarts, as a memorial for the lives lost.

Temporary living arrangements were provided in the expandable Great Hall, where students with missing families, such as Luna Lovegood, whose father had not been found, stayed for the next month. The Ministry rebuilt itself quite quickly, as a matter of fact. The main problem that persisted now, however, was the complications of the Muggle community.

Voldemort had destroyed thousands of Muggle families, all which were searching for an answer from their respective governing bodies. Riots broke out throughout London, Paris, New York, and many other large non-magical cities. The International Magical Congress, or the IMC, determined that only one course of action could be taken; revealing the likes of wizard-kind. And thus, the telling of the past ends. Not only because the main events had past, no. I was present at that ever important conference, and was hexed in the confusion that ensued.

I woke up one month later, staring up at the faces of Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Ginny Weasley, who all stared down back with expressions of concern and happiness. The Healers at Mungo's informed that I was cursed by a home invented curse, one that put the victim into a temporary stasis. The spell was being reviewed by the Ministry, as it had been used on at least ten other people, who woke up at the exact same time as me in that ward.

It was here that I spoke to Kingsley Shacklebolt, who advised me of what to do next. As the Minister then, he suggested that I tell both the Muggle and magical world of my experiences, as a way for the non magical folk to understand the serious causes and effects of the war. And hence, he assigned me to Daily Prophet writer Abigail Fismuth.

Three months later, my series of adventures, or rather, misadventure, were published under the title of The War of Ages, spanning the time from my birth to the end of the war. It was used as a form of update in recent history, for the newly exposed Muggles. This book was where I freely admitted my connection to Voldemort through my scar, the death of my parents, and the morals and teachings of my great mentor, Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, whose portrait hung above the desk of Headmistress McGonogal at the newly revived Hogwarts. Hermione had elected to return to school to make up the year she had missed, while Ron and I felt that our learning times had passed.

I wasn't sure about Ron, but I knew I was ready to move on after the offer from Kingsley.

The Auror department had fallen into disarray, after disappearances of Death Eaters and the rebuilding of the Ministry. And so, he had resolved to hiring new talent to form a new branch of these brave fighters: the Detectives. "A new perspective," is what I believed he said. He invited both me and Ron to start this branch, along with the resident pyrotechnic master, Seamus Finnigan, and the Hebology expert, Neville Longbottom. Nevvile denied the offer however, as he was offered the Herbology teaching position after the retirement of Professor Sprout.

And so, the story truly begins. On June 7 of 1998, we were handed our first official case. And boy, was it a case.