Summary: Harry, Ron and Hermione's 6th year at Hogwarts: Harry has a new godfather, there's a prophecy concerning the heir(s) of Gryffindor, characters choose sides, fall in love, learn Occlumency and how to be Animagi, and endure biological weapons, new spells, and werewolves. Find out what power Harry has that Voldemort doesn't know about. Meet Lily's family. Learn more of Dumbledore's secrets and, oh yeah, there's WAR, with its battles, tragedies, massacres, betrayals, and resurrections. Packed with plotlines, this story is for anyone who likes Hermione strong, Harry vulnerable and heroic, and Ron, well, (let's be honest) hurt. Angst, and lots of it. Romance, drama, adventure and trio friendship angst. The adult Ron tells the story of The Boy Who Lived to his children, so who is The Man Who Lives? The best endings aren't always happy ones.

Disclaimer (for all of the chapters): Everything belongs to J.K. Rowling, who I am not worthy of. I solemnly swear that no money is being made. No house elves (well, maybe one) were injured during the making of this story. Rated nearly-PG-13.

Author's Notes: The first and final chapters of this story are from Ron's point of view. The ones in between are the traditional perspective of The Boy Who Lived. The quotes are referenced by book number (the American versions) followed by the page. For example: (3, 184) book three, page 184.

Reviews are very VERY much appreciated, and are welcome at any time no matter how far past the update date. And if you write one for each chapter I promise I'll update quicker!

PenPatronus

Man Who Lives

Prologue: The Chocolate Frog Card

"You might even have a scar now, if you're lucky…That's what you want, isn't it?"

–Harry to Ron (4, 336).

Ron was unsure why, and quite miffed by the fact that he, of the remaining Weasley siblings, got "blessed" with twins. According to the medical books Hermione borrowed from the new Muggle wing of the Hogwarts library, the gene is supposed to skip a generation. ("This is what we get for trusting Muggle medi…Muggles!" "Honestly, Ron, their doctors aren't daft and you would know!") They'd officially cursed the world with another Fred and George, and Ron repeatedly reminded his wife that he'd insisted on not having children in the first place. They were busy enough with nieces and nephews. "I suppose Headmistress McGonagall does have enough Weasley blood to deal with." Hermione would sigh, "Bill's charm mixed with Veela powers is bad enough."

But ten years and two kids after their wedding, Ron and Hermione Weasley were once again proud parents. It turned out that Hermione was longwinded even when it came to naming her children, which she had proved with their oldest, Harry Luke Albus and his younger sister, Lily Rebeccah Virginia. Luckily Hermione had gotten tired of rehearsing all three names after the first month of Harry's life. Now, Ron's two newborn sons were upstairs with their mother, hopefully asleep before Hermione lost her patience and cast a Slumber charm. Meanwhile Harry, who had learned to fly on a broom before he could walk, and who was quite the beater even at age 8, was out on the back porch with his sister. 5-year-old Lily had crawled up onto the picnic table and was busy opening all of the Chocolate Frogs from their Easter baskets. She was bright eyed and bushy haired, just like her mother, but was doused with wide freckles, and her pony-tail was a dazzling unadulterated red. Harry, who was handing the Frogs to his sister for her to eat and him to keep the cards, had the same color hair, cut short for the spring season so that he could easily see a bludger. There were just a few clusters of freckles across his skin and unfortunately he'd inherited his mother's teeth.

Ron looked up as an edible Frog jumped from the picnic table and promptly smashed into the glass door to the living room. Lily shrieked with amusement and but characteristically, Harry hadn't even noticed, he was intently studying the dozen cards his sister had obediently piled for him. He merely blinked when Lily sent a second Frog in his direction, which hopped directly over Harry's shoulder and into the flower planters lining the porch. Lily suddenly forgot about their candy and a thought catapulted her to the door.

"Daddy! Are we going to grandma's soon?"

"Not for a few hours, flower, after the twins nap."

"My brudda twins or unca twins?"

It had become customary for the entire, entire Weasley family to have dinner together once a week, every Sunday evening. It loosened the Warren's seams and nearly killed Molly each time, but she was happiest when surrounded by her grandchildren. It was distracting. Ron sighed and switched the pages of the latest edition of the Daily Prophet as Lily returned to her task and Harry flipped over the next Famous Witch or Wizard Card. Ron was stretched out on the couch, knowing but not caring that Hermione would scold him for putting his shoes on the cushions. She didn't care about the dirt but Ron was "incessantly a bad example". Ron yawned and pressed his fingers to his eyes when fifth page of the Daily Prophet became blurry for the second time that minute. Up the stairs behind him he heard Hermione, horrible singing voice that she had, humming to the newborns that had quieted down faster than usual, as if they were as eager to go to the Warren as Lily was.

The twins had been born two weeks previous, and only their godfather had yet to meet them. Ron was anxious to see his best friend who was coming a few minutes before all six of them would leave for dinner. He was also constantly jealous because Hermione got to see him nearly every day at work. She was, --surprisingly--, a professor at Hogwarts, Transfiguration and Muggle Studies. Arthur Weasley had offered to make her an honorary Auror just like he'd commissioned Ron, but Hermione preferred to teach. Yet having been on maternity leave (unwillingly) for the past month and a half, she hadn't seen her best friend either. Ron yawned once again as Lily tried to catch a leaping Frog in her mouth and Harry finally reached the bottom of his deck. Weekends were gold for Ron Weasley; he'd been working double shifts lately because of increased Death Eater activity. Being an Auror was dangerous work, but it was distracting. Hermione normally hated being stuck home with the kids all day while her husband was at work, but it was distracting.

It seemed that anything anyone did was just for distraction.

"Dad…Dad?"

Ron started. He'd been so deep in his thoughts that at some point Hermione had graciously stopped singing her lullaby, and Harry had crouched in front of him. Ron smiled at his son, already knowing what Harry wanted to tell him. "What's the count?"

"Well, I got one of your cards and one of mom's, that makes three even that I have of both of you. The last two were grandpa's and only one of them spelled "Minister" right." Ron snorted and made a mental note to remind Hermione that Harry had the know-it-all gene. "I got a McGonagall, a Ravenclaw, a Snape and two Flamels. Oh! And look at this, here's a card of someone I don't have yet! And he has my name!"

Ron blinked and gulped at what suddenly hopped into his mouth and had forgotten to be chewed. And it felt heavier than a Chocolate Frog. He must have missed one of the cards during his inspection the night before! His insides lapped drunkenly against his skin before they settled enough for Ron to speak without sounding like a pubescent house elf.

"Does he now?"

"Yeah, look!" Harry put the card up to Ron's nose. "See? Harry!…Harry Putter!"

"Potter, Har—His name was Harry Potter, son." Harry's eyes raced across the description on the back of the card.

"Dad? I think I know this name, I think I've read it somewhere but…Did you—can you tell me about this person? Did you know him?" It had become a tradition for Ron to tell the legends of every face on the Chocolate Frog cards that Harry collected.Ron's son was staring at the card as if those green eyes were familiar to him as well. Ron wondered if memories were genetic.

The Auror guzzled down another breath and slowly, extra carefully folded the newspaper (he was an expert at stalling) and placed it on the floor, straightening it, smoothing it out. Harry offered him the card and Ron stared at it for several long moments during which Lily barged in to find out what all the quiet was about. A dozen years later and I still can't talk about the Battle of Endings, not about Voldemort, not about him…They're still too young to hear about this but Harry will probably find it in a book any day now… "Harry Potter…I haven't seen this face for 12 years…" Ron Weasley had half-hoped he'd never have to tell his children the story. "Harry is who you're named after, son. If he were still alive, he would be your godfather." The child's eyes widened with curiosity. "And he was a very, very important person, and your mother and I loved him—loved him very very much. Almost as much as we love you."

Both Harry and Lily smiled at that and Ron was convinced that they were able to fathom such love. The half-faded Percy-ish voice in Ron's subconscious warned him to be tender about the approaching details. As usual it was countered by the Fredgeorge verbal rolling-of-the-eyes. But it was the flash of Ginny's smiling face that caused Ron to opt for the truth, realizing it was going to be harder for himself than for Lily and Harry. Ron took a deep breath and continued, "I met Harry Potter…"

After an hour, Ron's voice hesitated. Harry's eyes snapped up from the card between his fingers, alarmed by the sudden silence. He sported a valiant Quiddich-beaters-don't-cry expression. Lily, eerily quiet, blinked up at her father as if she'd burst with curiosity. Ron took a steadying breath. He leaned forward on the couch and placed his elbows horizontally on his knees. He allowed himself a lengthy moment to contemplate his lifelong scars, the ones outside and in, their shapes and levels and weights and memories. He subconsciously fingered the pink thought scars still visible on his forearms. Damn brain. Ron felt himself sink into the noose of his past, their past, his past.

"And after Sirius…died…the war began, everything changed. Nothing was ever the same. Harry was never the same…"

Crouched unseen on the staircase behind them, Hermione Weasley lowered her face to her palms, muffling the sound of the tears gushing from her eyes. In her lap sat a dusty book she'd retrieved the moment she heard the tone of her husband's voice. The book was hand-written and opened half-way, yellowed by time, cratered with dried tears:

Harry Potter: The Boy Who Lived

By: Harbor Rowling

For my future godchildren, but especially for Ron and Hermione, who had all of his love, and now have all of mine.