The morning sun painted the Tonks garden in golden strokes, illuminating the sky in a warm haze that seemed custom-made for a celebration. Inside, the Tonks household was buzzing with energy—birthday energy. Iris and Hadrian's birthday, to be precise.
The trio had risen early, jittery with excitement. Despite their best efforts, they hovered near the window like curious cats, keeping an eye out for their long-anticipated guests.
Then came the knock.
Ted answered, but three excited figures nearly knocked him over trying to reach the door.
There, framed in the morning light, stood Sirius Black and Remus Lupin.
They were nothing like the shadows from old tales. Sirius, every inch the dashing rogue, had tied his shoulder-length hair back with casual flair. He wore a sleek midnight coat over a dragonhide vest, his wand holstered at his hip like a gunfighter out of a story. He smirked—charming, infuriating, and impossible to ignore.
Remus, by contrast, looked sharp, collected, and glowing with vitality. His werewolf curse—long gone—had left no mark. In fact, the only scars he wore were now softened by strength and time. His green shirt rolled up at the sleeves and leather jacket made him look more like a seasoned field agent than a man who had once been hidden by shame.
But it was Dora who moved first.
She practically flew out the door and launched herself at Remus Lupin, nearly knocking the breath from him.
"You're Remus Lupin," she said with reverent awe, hugging him tightly. "You're my favorite Marauder. Sorry, Sirius."
Sirius raised an eyebrow, hand on his heart. "Et tu, Dora?"
Remus, clearly flustered but grinning, patted her back. "I'm honored. I think."
"I have so many questions about the time you transfigured your Defense professor's desk into a barking dog—"
"Dora," Iris said fondly, "breathe."
Inside, the celebration began. The garden had been transformed into a festive wonderland, with hovering banners that read Happy Birthday Iris & Hadrian in shimmering Hufflepuff gold and black. Andromeda and Ted had laid out a fantastic spread, and the house elves had outdone themselves with enchanted cakes and spell-activated confetti pastries.
As Sirius and Remus told stories—some censored, others not quite—the twins could barely stop laughing. Even Iris, more reserved, found herself leaning into Sirius's tales, while Hadrian listened to Remus with deep curiosity. In both men, they saw glimmers of their parents' world—their legacy—brought back to life.
Then came the gifts.
Remus handed Iris a slim, leather-bound brewing journal annotated by a master potioneer who had once worked with Lily. "I read your mother's notes," he said gently. "You remind me of her."
Iris held it to her chest, stunned and teary-eyed. "Thank you."
To Hadrian, Sirius handed a magically sealed journal, bound in black with silver runes. "For your brilliant schemes and darker scribbles. It'll only open to you—and has some… Marauder upgrades."
Hadrian grinned. "I accept this dangerous responsibility."
Just when they thought the surprises were over, Sirius dramatically stood up and clapped his hands. "And now… the real presents."
Two packages zoomed in from behind the garden shed, hovering in front of the twins. They tore off the wrappings to reveal two gleaming Firebolt prototypes, sleek and still faintly humming with fresh magical energy.
"No way," Hadrian breathed.
"These haven't even hit the market yet," Iris whispered.
"They were gifted by an old friend at the Department of Magical Games," Remus explained. "Figured the children of Lily and James Potter should ride like champions."
Hadrian stared at the broom, speechless. "This is… wow."
"It has auto-stabilizers," Iris said in awe. "And gyroscopic pivoting!"
"Also goes from zero to 150 in under five seconds," Sirius added with a grin. "Try not to outpace lightning."
The rest of the afternoon was spent test-flying in the open field behind the garden. Dora cheered them on while Remus gave coaching tips that revealed just how good he had once been at flying himself—though he swore he preferred a quiet broom to the chaos of Quidditch.
As twilight settled in and magical lanterns lit the sky, the group sat around a firepit eating enchanted marshmallows that burst into fireworks when roasted. The twins basked in warmth—not just from the fire, but from the people around them.
Their family had grown today, in love and memory.
And somewhere in that mix of flame, laughter, and quiet music played by Sirius on a charmed flute, Hadrian found himself reaching for Dora's hand. She took it. No words passed between them.
But the smile on her face said everything.