The fire crackled softly in McGonagall's cottage, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls.
Jonathan Doyle sat quietly at the edge of the bed, legs swinging slightly, eyes distant. He was alone for the first time that day. No orphanage noise. No curious professor. Just the warm silence of a magical house and the gentle weight of a plan unfolding.
He knew the family he would seen meet were the Tonks. Professor McGonagall didn't say much about the family. And exactly that gives him room to change things.
According to canon HP book Nymphadora Tonks is 7 or so years older than the protagonists. That wouldn't do. A lonely, aimless boy like him needed a friend. A companion. Someone who would see him. And if she happened to be everything he found beautiful, and her ideal boy just happened to look exactly like he did when unbound…
That wasn't manipulation. That was narrative alignment.
He closed his eyes. He hovered over the next line of script, conjuring the details with sharp clarity.
Nymphadora Tonks is of the same age as Hadrian James Potter. Her natural state matches Hadrian's ideal. And her Ideal partner's appearance matches Hadrian's natural form.
The Book shimmered once, then snapped shut.
The world adjusted itself with barely a ripple.
He exhaled and put the smile back on—innocent, uncertain, fragile. Just enough for McGonagall to think she was still in control.
The Portkey landed them outside a cheerful house with a garden that smelled of mint and lavender. A violet-painted door stood out like a splash of color in a grey street.
Professor McGonagall brushed herself off and turned to him.
"They're a kind family. I believe you'll be safe here."
Jonathan nodded. "Thank you, Professor."
The door swung open before she could knock. Andromeda Tonks looked exactly as expected—regal, warm-eyed, with a firm but maternal presence. "Minerva," she said with a smile, before her eyes flicked to the boy beside her. "And this must be Jonathan."
"Yes, ma'am," he said quietly, offering a handshake that was just the right amount of shy.
And then she appeared.
Nymphadora Tonks stepped into the entryway, barefoot, her hair a natural glossy black that curled slightly at the tips. Her skin held a warm bronze undertone, her eyes a deep hazel-green. She wore a hoodie too big for her and jeans with patches, her smile wide and open.
Hadrian's breath caught, just a little.
She tilted her head, studying him curiously. "You look... familiar."
He blinked. "I do?"
"Not really," she said, smirking. "Just sounded like a cool thing to say."
Andromeda rolled her eyes. "Tonks. Be nice."
"He is nice," she said, stepping forward to shake his hand herself. "Hi. I'm Nymphadora. You can call me Tonks, or Dora, or… anything that isn't Nymphadora."
Jonathan gave her the practiced awkward grin. "Okay. Uh, Dora."
Her hair shimmered slightly, picking up a faint silvery tint that matched his eyes. It wasn't even conscious—just instinct.
McGonagall noticed. Her brow furrowed thoughtfully.
Later, as the adults sipped tea and talked quietly about "transitions" and "stability," Tonks, happy to meet someone her own age, dragged Jonathan to the backyard to meet a scraggly dog named Pickles and show off her very poor broom-handling skills.
"You'll be at Hogwarts too, yeah?" she asked, balancing the toy broom under one arm.
He nodded. "First year."
"Cool. We'll hang out. We weirdos have to stick together."
"You think I'm weird?" he asked.
"You changed your hair mid-sentence without realizing," she said with a grin. "So yeah."
"Oh."
"Don't worry," she added quickly. "It's a good kind of weird."
That night
The spare bedroom was cozy, filled with mismatched furniture and a faint floral scent. Jonathan sat on the bed, knees pulled to his chest.
Below, he heard laughter. Ted was telling a story. Dora was arguing about chores. It felt like a family.
And for the first time in what felt like years he felt like he could just breathe.