Morning came slowly, the gentle spring sunlight brushing the Hufflepuff common room in gold. Most students had already gone to breakfast, but the trio remained behind—still curled up on the same couch, wrapped in silence and warmth and something deeper.
Hadrian sat with his legs drawn up, arms loosely resting over his knees. Iris leaned into him, eyes still red but calm. Dora sat cross-legged in front of them, brushing her wild hair back with one hand, watching them with quiet attentiveness.
"Do you want to tell me?" Dora asked softly.
Hadrian glanced at Iris. She nodded.
He took a breath.
"It was like a dam broke," he said. "Everything we never remembered... just poured back in."
"We were raised by Mum and Dad," Iris added, voice small. "For over a year. In hiding, yes, but it was happy. We were safe, and loved, and—whole."
Dora scooted closer, her hand gently squeezing Iris's.
Hadrian smiled faintly. "Did you know James Potter once tried to teach me how to fly by throwing me onto a mini broomstick while Lily screamed in the background?"
Iris let out a watery laugh. "And Mum hexed him in the foot for it."
Dora giggled through the tears that had welled in her eyes. "That... actually sounds exactly like something James would do."
"And Sirius was always around," Iris said. "He used to read us stories, but he never remembered the actual endings. He always made them up."
Dora laughed again, fuller this time. "He probably told you the dragon ate the princess and the kingdom, didn't he?"
"He did!" Hadrian said, grinning. "Then Mum made him sleep on the couch for a week."
The three of them laughed together—through the pain, through the ache—because the warmth of those memories now outshone the sorrow.
Dora reached forward and pulled them both into her arms, holding them tightly.
"You two," she said, her voice thick, "have been through so much more than anyone should. But now... now you remember the good, too. That matters. You were loved, and you still are."
Iris sniffled, resting her forehead against Dora's shoulder. "Thank you for being here. For... for being our person."
Hadrian nodded, eyes closed. "You're our family, Dora. Just as much as they were."
Dora held them both tighter.
"No matter what," she whispered, "I'll always be here for you."
And as the light streamed through the stained-glass windows, it wrapped around them not just like sunlight—but like the memory of a nursery filled with stars, a potion-stained hand brushing soft hair, and laughter that never quite left the air.