Disclaimer: Anything you recognise from JK Rowling's works are hers…

Epilogue. Leonis, Son of Godric

Leonis raised his sword in salute and face his opponent for the third time that morning. He was shirtless, sweat was glossed his upper torso in a slick sheen, His opponent, older and wiser than himself, showed no signs of discomfort. As usual his face was emotionless down to the glimmer in his black eyes.

Leonis readjusted his grip on the sword and resumed the ready position and remembered back to that day.

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He remembered particularly the fierce strength of his father's tight embrace and was slightly embarrassed that they had a huge audience watching them, including all his uncles and grandfather.

"I am so proud of you," Godric cried holding him at arms length.

"Did you see Mortimor's face when he knew he was losing?" Leonis sighed into his father's broad chest.

"Priceless," Godric murmured. "The memory itself is priceless."

Godric had draped his arms about Leonis' shoulder and led him towards the clan who were all waiting for them. Rourke's thoughtful footsteps followed them.

Leonis was just about embraced and kissed by all the Gryffindors despite the fact he could barely remember all his uncles' names.

Maverick was the last in line and insisted on taking the new 'champion' to his chambers to freshen up.

"Maverick is it rude to ask what your animagus form is?" Leonis had asked when they walked down the hall alone.

"Dear boy, I thought you'll never ask….."

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The opponent's sword crashed down upon his own shattering Leonis' reverie. He fought back using all the combinations he could think of. He knew he could never win. Not against this opponent.

He was losing ground but he held on valiantly and fought hard with all his might.

A moment later he was on the ground with a sword to his throat. His opponent laughed and flicked his sword away.

"I think you are a bit tired, nephew."

Leonis scowled mockingly at his opponent and rolled onto his feet. "Or are you getting a little old Uncle Rourke."

"Impertinent whelp," Rourke mumbled. "I'll have you know…"

"You are considered the best Swordmaster in the country and I should be honoured to be taught by you. And so I am honoured Uncle Rourke."

A hawk's cry resounded in the sky above them and they simultaneously looked up. The hawk made a point by landing on Rourke's shoulder digging in its large pointy talons.

"Get off Maverick!"

The hawk glared at Rourke and landed on the ground and turned back to Maverick in a matter of seconds.

"You should speak to me with more respect. I am the greatest spell breaker, inventor, tinkerer in magic I have you know," Maverick said feigning hurt.

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Godric watched his son and brothers jesting or in Rourke's case being drawn into the verbal bantering unwillingly.

"Sixteen," Laird Gryffindor tsked, "Can you believe it?"

Godric glanced over his eldest boy, the son of Aimee and smiled proudly. "He has two days to go before he's sixteen."

Laird Gryffindor sniffed and rearranged himself in his chair. The last few years had not been kind to him. He was old and feeling his age and was now bound to a chair most of the time. "You should be proud of him, Godric." A wrinkly hand grasped Godric's hand. "As I am with you."

Godric looked down at his father who seemed to have mellowed in the last twelve months.

"I never told you that, did I?"

"No father," Godric sighed.

"Well, don't be the same fool I was. Make sure your boys know how proud you are. And your lovely daughters."

"You have my promise, father."

Laird Gryffindor coughed and grumbled in the way old men do and let his eyes wander back to Leonis. "Swordmaster material, that boy, that's what I thought when I first laid eyes on him."

Godric grinned knowing that his father had thought no such thing.

"Ah, but I'll be dead before there is another Swordmaster Gryffindor."

"Father…"

Laird Gryffindor coughed again. "You are my seventh child sixteen years separate you and Rourke, Godric. I'm a very old gent now, seventy – six come this spring. And I'm not well."

Godric sighed and said nothing.

"I remember when I was sixteen," Laird Gryffindor said. "I thought I was invincible it was also the year in which your grandfather died."

Godric still didn't reply.

"I'm a very lucky man. I have seven powerful wonderful sons too many grandchildren to count… I've had a very full and happy life."

"I remember when I was sixteen also," Godric replied. "It was the year I became an animagus…"

"Yes the great bald lion," Laird Gryffindor chuckled.

"I was sixteen you couldn't expect me to turn into an adult lion. I don't know why you're laughing you were furious."

"More at Maverick than you. What if I had to introduce dignities to a bald lion instead of my youngest son?"

Godric snorted indifferently. "We figured out how to turn me back eventually."

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Leonis trudged up the stairs with Luther hanging on to every word he was saying. If he could the younger boy would have written down everything to add to his history essay which was due sooner than he had thought.

"Are you really going to train to be a Swordmaster with Uncle Rourke?" Luther adoringly looked up at his elder brother.

"If father will allow it," Leonis replied.

"He will," Luther chirped, "He loves you too much to deny you your heart's desire."

Leonis laughed and pushed open the chamber door that belonged to him when he stayed at the family estate.

"You'll have to write, Isah will never forgive you if you don't," Luther kept chattering even when Leonis had become still.

Leonis staggered to his bed on which a new sword winked in the sunlight.

"You wish to stay here?" Godric stepped into the room as if he had been waiting for his sons to arrive. "You wish to be trained by Rourke?"

Leonis caught the hint of sadness in his father's voice. "Father I…"

Godric strode across the room his robes swished about his feet. "Hush. Rourke has spoken to me about the possibility a year ago."

"Father…"

Godric caught Leonis in his arms. "You've grown so quickly and now I entrust you to my brother's safekeeping. You have a bright future ahead of you, Leo, and as a father I can ask no more."

"Thankyou," Leonis murmured still securely attached in his father's embrace.

"I knew buying Orpheus was a stroke of brilliance."

The ginger owl opened one eye and fluffed himself up dignified as he heard his name being uttered.

"You must write often," Godric said sternly.

"I shall father."

Godric ran his hands down the length of Leonis shoulders and arms. "Happy birthday," he said nodding at the sword.

Leonis smiled shyly and turned to the weapon.

"Unsheathe it," Luther begged.

"You knew about this," Leonis said accusingly.

Luther shrugged. "Maybe."

Leonis unsheathed the blade four words were etched on the blade.

"I've never been more proud," Godric said. "And I want people to know it."

Leonis ran his finger down and blade covering the words. He was speechless but Godric saw the thanks in his eyes as his fingertips traced the words:

'Leonis, Son of Godric.'