A/N This is the rewritten version, slightly different, slightly more details.

A/N A tribute to the forgotten, the unappreciated and the heroes. To the villains and their redemption, to innocence.

Harry Potter was sitting in his study. He was waiting, anticipating the knock on his warded door. The wards identified his wife with little Albus in her arms walking down the hall. He sighed and closed the book he was reading and placed it on its assigned space on the shelf with a flick of his wand.

The man looked at himself in the mirror, and resisted the urge to change. His dress robes were a dark blue and the Potter crest was displayed as usual. The fabric itched increasingly and he kept scratching his arms .

Ten years had passed since he had died, since the truth had been revealed. Ten beautiful years with Ginny, Teddy and his children, Ron, Hermione and their kids, the other Weasleys and the rest of his extended family.

Ten years since his disarming spell had defeated Voldemort and ended the suffering of the warriors in the battle. Years since he had attended almost every funeral and every memorial, and a decade since he had refused to accept his Order of Merlin, First class.

It had been offered to him every year since, and he had always asked them to give it to a person who deserved it just as much. People that had fought but were forgotten: warriors, healers, supporters, spies, friends and family. And the Ministry always tried to please him by giving it to him to be passed on.

He had arranged one for Peter Pettigrew: a traitor and a hero, who had redeemed himself in the end, and who Harry had finally forgiven. A man of both courage and cowardice. A man who traded trust for fear and love for pain, only realizing what he'd had when it was gone. It was the lesson Peter had learned to late that he wanted to pass on to others. To appreciate everything you have, and never trade it in.

One to his mother, who had been the real heroin of the story, a legend in her own right. A woman who'd been kind and loving. A girl who knew what was right. She had given up only when there was nothing left to gain. Lily had known what she had to do and protected her son, saving thousands by preserving a single life, and sacrificing her own.

To Tom Riddle. Not to the man he'd become, but the little orphan who'd cried for help and gotten none. The boy in a life where he did not belong. A call to the public to prevent another boy from growing up in the darkness, shunned by those who should've loved him. Maybe that had been his own cry of help when he still lived in the cupboard under the stairs.

Sirius Black, for all the obvious reasons. He told them all the true story. Told them about sacrifice, the horror, the haunted eyes. About the inhumanity of the old Azkaban, about pain and revenge. The Brotherhood that Sirius had called the Marauders, the family they'd found when their own wasn't enough.

But this year it was going to be special, he was going to do this for the last time. He just had one last person to give this award to.

The famous family entered the Ministry as usual and Harry kissed Ginny while she took her seat and walked backstage, the path familiar after a decade of using it.

The award stood ready on its usual stand and Harry grabbed his wand and touched it with its tip. The name he intended to use was elegantly written on a small golden piece at the bottom.

H e stepped forward, always the first on the list, and Kingsley raised an eyebrow at the name. Harry smiled gently at the minister and tried to gather the courage he would need while facing the gathered crowd. As always, he spoke from the heart.

"The awards that have been given in the past decades, were given to the heroes of the wars against Voldemort. They are the people we should thank, the people we honor and praise. They are not the only kind of people who should be."

Harry glanced at the paper that should be his prepared speech. Instead, there was a picture of his family. His pregnant wife was holding Albus, who was playing with her pretty necklace. Harry himself had his left arm wrapped around Ginny, his right on James' shoulder. James was smiling brightly, hair sticking in every direction. Molly had made it yesterday, and he hadn't been able to part with it since.

He had all he ever wanted. Men and women had sacrificed a lot to make that happen, and that's why he did this every year, for them. For what they'd made possible.

"Before Voldemort, there was another threat. His name was Grindelwald. It's a story we have been told and we'll soon become the narrators of the same story. But there is one war that was never fought, one war that would've been worse than the one we lived, and the one before that. "

"There is a story behind every war, and this is one that never happened."

"We evaded an opponent that would've grown to be the best. An enemy that wouldn't have been defeated as fast as the two that were, if ever. A brilliant man. But then, he was just a boy who wanted to make the world a better place. He just didn't know yet what a better place was, and without her he wouldn't have learned."

"His name? Albus Dumbledore. There are truths in the life of the Headmaster that none of us want to recognize, but to give this award, I have to."

"We've all read about his father, his mother, his brother and his little sister. We know the effects that those events had on him. What I did realize when I thought about it was that he could've followed his friend, had his sister not perished in the fight between Grindelwald and her two brothers."

"A little girl stepped between fighting men, and was forced to sacrifice her life. She did it unknowingly, but without her we would not stand here today. "

"We have awarded sacrifices made in the past three wars, but I think that it is time that we honor a sacrifice that prevented a war. It's time to honor Ariana Dumbledore."