Harry knocked on the door of the little dwelling in Devonshire, just down the road from the Weasleys, the small property bordered at its front by a simple vegetable garden. Shuffling a little on the stoop, he glanced about at the place where a young Tonks would have grown up. Hearing the click in the lock, he quickly straightened and forced his thoughts to wander back towards the here and now, in the moment before the mother of yet another lost friend opened the door.