EPILOGUE
Galahad Percy Rufus Weasley was born just two days after The Battle of Hogwarts. He was a latecomer and the first in a generation of children who could truly say they never lived in a world with Lord Voldemort.
He lived with her in London, attending a muggle school during the year and spending summers with Grandma and Grandpa Weasley and all of his extended family. Eventually, he'd start Hogwarts with Teddy Lupin – and cousin Victoire a year after that – but for now, watching him experience childhood both as she had and as Percy had was the greatest gift she could think to give him.
He had a long nose, and even as a baby it was obvious he would inherit Percy's slim build and height. His thick head of rich, dark brown hair came from her, but the first time a sunbeam hit him just so, illuminating coppery red highlights, it warmed Audrey's heart to its core.
Galahad.
By muggle standards it was an odd choice of name, and by wizarding ones, it was obscure, as they cared far more about the exploits of wizardkind's greatest legend over the muggles he surrounded himself with.
But Audrey had always loved the entirety of the Arthurian tales. She was dreaming of Merlin's magic and King Arthur's Knights of the Round Table long before she ever received a Hogwarts letter.
Muggles often overlook Sir Galahad, too, focusing more on the flash and bang of Arthur's rise to king. But in the legend, Galahad was noted as one of the greatest, purest knights of the order. He, too, pulled a sword from a stone and led the quest for the Holy Grail that he alone was strong enough to glimpse.
But there was more to it than that. Legend also told of Sir Galahad's many adventures with Sir Percival, and something about that just seemed right.
Her Galahad was an imaginative boy, and it wasn't uncommon to see him racing around the yard by himself, waving a toy sword while engaged in battle with monsters, dark wizards and bandits. Such was the case one afternoon as she watched him from the kitchen window. Galahad was sprawled on the ground, holding his sword above him defensively.
"Sir Percival, help me!" he yelled, and in that moment, she could imagine a red-haired knight charging over, sword held high to defend his friend.
To defend his son.
Pulling him to his feet and standing back-to-back they fought off all the yard's monsters. And when the evil was slain, father and son walked hand-in-hand to sit under the shade of a tree, enjoying a post-victory cookie and carton of milk. Together.
Her knights in shining armor.
Author's note: Thank you so much for your kind words, favorites and follows that helped me find the inspiration to finish this story. I hope it was to your liking.
But wait, there's more! I got at least halfway through an eighth chapter before realizing it just didn't fit in this story. I don't think it will stand well on its own, but I don't want to abandon it, either. So when it's done, I'll tack it on here, a "deleted scene," if you will.