Chapter 22: Tricking the Toad

"Hey, Harry, do you have a moment?"

Harry looked up from the book he was reading, frowning in confusion. He recognized the voice, but the tone was completely different from normal. He turned around to see Parvati Patil looking at him, an unusually serious expression on her face. No, he realized as he glanced at the blue trim on her robes. Not Parvati. Her identical twin, Padma.

"Sure, Padma, what can I do for you?" the Gryffindor asked.

"I've heard you've been lodging complaints against some of the teachers like Snape," the girl replied, looking a little hesitant. "How do you do that?"

"There isn't a particular form you have to fill out or anything. The school bylaws state that you should take any concerns to your head of house first, then to the deputy headmistress, then the headmaster, then the board of governors, in that order. You need to submit a written report of the specific incident in question, with as much detail as possible." Harry shrugged. "To be honest, I haven't had any luck with it, as you can tell from the fact that Snape still works here, but I keep copies of all the complaints I file so that I can prove the school faculty has been negligent."

"My parents said the same thing when I wrote to them," Padma said, sighing heavily. "They said it's best to try to work within the system. If that doesn't work, my father indicated that he would see what he could do at the ministry, but he wasn't optimistic."

"What does your father do?" Harry inquired.

"Let's just say that he's kind of like an ambassador from magical India, and leave it at that," the Ravenclaw replied. "If you want more details, you're going to have to sit through an hour-long lesson on the history of the Mughal Empire, British colonialism before and after the Statute of Secrecy, and the current state of magical India, particularly as it relates to the ICW. There's a lot of background you would need to understand."

"I'll take your word for it," Harry replied, surprised. "I'm guessing the teacher you're protesting would be Umbridge, given that you mentioned the ministry."

Padma nodded. "I guess the complaint about Umbridge would be that she lets the Inquisitorial Squad run wild without any sort of punishment. A few of them have been harassing one of my friends, but she's kind of shy and doesn't want to make a big deal about it."

Harry sighed, understanding well what she meant. That sort of behavior was sadly commonplace with many members of Umbridge's little goon squad. It was unfortunate for his fellow students, though he had to admit that it was certainly helping to make his anti-ministry efforts look better by comparison. "I've got some copy paper you can have if you need. Like I said, I wouldn't expect any miracles, but maybe Flitwick will be more responsive," he said. "All McGonagall does these days is glare at me when I submit a complaint."

"I've got some of my own, but thank you for the offer." Padma gave him a small smile. "And thank you for the warning. I know not to get my hopes up. It's not like the teachers have done anything yet, and they have to know that the IS is causing problems. But I have to do something. Even if it's just file one more complaint on top of all the others," she finished, her face a bit downcast.

"So how are things going with the learning tree for defense?" Harry asked. "Hermione teaches you, right?"

"Yes, and she's doing a great job. I still can't figure out how she got stuck with all you barbarians in Gryffindor," Padma teased.

"Obviously, fortune was smiling down upon her that day," Harry replied in a similar tone of voice.

That Saturday, after his weekly meeting with Luna, Harry stayed in the room, practicing some of his own spells. And, as always, he returned to the Gryffindor dorm quite frustrated. What am I missing? It certainly wasn't power, and he was doing his best to think happy thoughts. And yet, his attempts at casting a patronus still produced nothing but a formless white mist.

"Iustitia," he muttered as he drew close to the portrait of the Fat Lady, wondering not for the first time if he should be concerned that the password to enter Gryffindor Tower was the latin word for justice. Is this Dumbledore's way of warning me that he knows what I did last year? The thought was not a pleasant one, but there was no way to determine if he was correct, or simply being paranoid.

He entered the common room to find a large crowd gathered, whispering excitedly, with McGonagall at the center. All eyes turned to look at the green-eyed teen as he entered, to his surprise and discomfort.

Ron was the first to speak. "Harry, mate, can I have a go on it?" the redheaded boy asked.

That seemed to open the floodgate, and people swarmed around Harry, asking questions that the confused boy had no idea how to answer. Finally, the transfiguration teacher approached him, and he realized what all the fuss was about.

"Mister Potter," the stern professor said as she handed the Firebolt to him, "you have a very good friend somewhere out there."

"So, I take it there weren't any jinxes or hexes on it?" Harry asked, doing his best to keep his voice neutral.

"No, we inspected it thoroughly, but there were no hazardous enchantments to be found," McGonagall reported.

"You mentioned that you might need to strip it down to be sure. Did you do that?" Harry continued, his voice still not betraying any hint of his thoughts.

"Yes, Professors Flitwick and Hooch were quite thorough," McGonagall replied, looking at him a bit suspiciously. "Something for which you should be grateful," she added, her lips tightening disapprovingly at his seeming lack of appreciation for her colleagues' efforts.

"Good to know," Harry replied.

"Well, I daresay you'll need some time to get used to it," the professor said.

Harry chuckled mirthlessly. "I'm not using this," the boy replied scornfully. "You just admitted that it was stripped down by two people who had never so much as held a Firebolt before." He scoffed. "I'll be sending it to get checked over by experts as it should have been from the beginning."

Silence filled the room as the students processed this. "What about the game next week?" Oliver demanded.

"I'll see if I can rent a broom to use," Harry promised.

This obviously didn't satisfy the Quidditch captain, but before he could object, McGonagall spoke first. "Mister Potter, I assure you that Professors Flitwick and Hooch are perfectly capable of inspecting a broom."

"Flitwick was a dueler before he began teaching, and Hooch played Quidditch," Harry countered. "While they may be skilled in their respective fields, neither of them has any special ability or experience with the level of enchanting that went in to making this broom. And given that the Firebolt is widely known to have a number of proprietary charms, it is clear that I should not be relying on the opinions of two amateurs when I can instead have my new broom inspected by professionals."

Not surprisingly, many students tried to persuade him otherwise, but Harry was not deterred. He brought the broom with him as he went up to his room to write a letter to Quality Quidditch Supplies explaining the situation, then went directly to the owlery, enlisting the aid of several of the school owls to carry the Firebolt, with Hedwig herself being given the letter, of course.

Harry suppressed a grin the next day as he saw an article in the paper regarding the Foundation for the Future's latest project, an isolated, all-magical village where people would be able to use magic openly. Of course, given the need for Harry and his team to disguise their true intentions, the implication was that it would be reserved for the 'elite' members of society who wanted to get away from the muggles, but also didn't want to have to rub shoulders with the common folk in Hogsmeade, which currently held the title of Britain's sole entirely magical village.

Eventually, people would realize the truth, but by then it would be difficult for the Wizengamot or Ministry to try to go back on the agreements without looking petty or prejudiced.

Harry glanced over at the staff table, eyes narrowing just a little as he caught sight of Umbridge. He still hadn't managed to interrogate the foul woman. When she was at the school, she was almost always in the company of at least a few people, and she left each night after her duties were complete. In fact, she rarely came in on weekends either, today being an exception.

All in all, it made Harry's chances of catching and interrogating the toad-like teacher very slim, to the boy's great frustration.

Tuesday morning at breakfast, Harry was unsurprised when he received a letter from QQS stating that they had sent the broom on to the manufacturer to inspect. They had also sent a broom for him to use in the meantime, free of charge so long as they could advertise it as having been used by Harry Potter after he returned it, something that made the boy roll his eyes. Because of course, people would pay more for a broom after I've sat on it.

He had been pleased to see that they had sent a Cleansweep 7, as he had requested. It wasn't the newest broom, but it was the same model that Cedric had, meaning that he and the Hufflepuff seeker would be on an equal footing at the game on Saturday. While he normally wouldn't be concerned with such a Hufflepuffish idea, he did respect the older boy's willingness to lend his broom to Harry at the match against Slytherin, and this seemed like a good way to respond.

He looked up as Luna sat down across from him and began to help herself to the food. It wasn't uncommon to see her at the Gryffindor table. He'd made it clear that she was welcome there, and though many of the students were taking a 'wait and see' approach to the ever-increasing cold war between Harry and the Ministry (including its flunky at the school, Umbridge), none of the other Gryffindors protested Luna's presence.

Today, the normally upbeat girl was looking somewhat subdued, however.

"What's wrong, Luna?" Harry asked concernedly.

His friend sighed. "You've read a lot about the school rules, right? Is it permitted for a teacher to require a student to write lines with a blood quill during detention?"

"What's a blood quill?" Harry asked with a frown.

"A quill that uses the person's blood instead of ink," Luna replied. "It's primarily reserved for signing certain types of magically binding contracts."

"Is it harmful?"

"I don't know," Luna admitted with a shrug. "I've never heard of anyone using a blood quill so extensively. Like I said, it's usually only used to sign your name a few times on a contract, not to write lines for hours." The girl seemed to shrink into herself. "It's painful by the end, though."

Harry stroked his chin thoughtfully. "I know that the bylaws with regard to corporal punishment were changed several decades ago to ban whipping, but I'm not sure if all forms of punishment that cause physical pain or harm were banned, or just whipping specifically. I could look into that, though I'm not sure how much good it would do you. Your only course of action is to file a protest regarding the punishment, and the teachers haven't done anything about any of our other complaints."

He frowned as a thought came to him. "Is it Umbridge that's doing this to you?" Luna nodded. "I didn't know that she was overseeing her own detentions now," the boy mused.

"Maybe I'm just special," Luna said dryly. "The Quibbler's latest edition had some articles that were rather critical of the Ministry. I think that's the real reason I'm in detention."

"I can help you with the complaint if you want," Harry offered, but Luna shook her head.

"I can do it myself," the girl replied.

Harry nodded as he went back to his breakfast, though his mind was whirling as he thought. So, Umbridge likes to handle detention personally when it's something to do with an attack on her or the Ministry. I can use that.

"You want me to what?" Peter's voice did absolutely nothing to hide his bewilderment.

"I want you to get one of the others to use a dictaquill to write a scathing letter insulting Umbridge and the Ministry, and sign it 'Harry Potter'," the black-haired teen repeated. "And don't let me know who wrote the letter. Plausible deniability."

There was a moment of silence. "Okay, I'll do that," the older man finally replied, still clearly confused. "I was planning on sending you several reports anyway. I'll include the letter."

"Great, thank you," Harry said brightly as he ended the call and headed toward his first morning class.

"And how are my favorite Weasley twins doing today?" Harry asked as he sat down on a chair near the infamous pranksters.

Both boys regarded him suspiciously. "We're good," the one on the left said.

"Why do you ask?" the other finished.

"I have a small task that I would like you to undertake for me," Harry admitted, producing the letter with a flourish. "I would like one of you to slip this under the door to Umbridge's classroom this evening. But don't tell me which one of you did it." Another thought occurred to him, and he added, "or, you could get someone else to do it, like Lee Jordan. I don't care, so long as the letter goes under the door and I don't know who put it there."

"Sure thing, Harrikins," the first twin said.

"Thank you," Harry said sincerely.

Harry was unsurprised when Umbridge confronted him the next day.

"Mister Potter, two weeks of detention for your vulgar insults against the Ministry!" the loathsome professor screeched.

"What?" Harry asked, hoping that his faked confusion seemed realistic enough.

Umbridge shoved the parchment in his hand. "Did you really think you could write something like this without being punished?"

Harry looked down, barely managed to stifle a laugh at some of the things written. "I've never seen this before in my life!" he protested. "And this isn't even my handwriting!"

"You used a dictaquill to hide your guilt!"

Harry looked at her. Is she just saying that, or does she really think it was me? "If I was trying to hide my guilt, why would I have signed it with my own name?" he asked derisively.

"Obviously, you're not as clever as you thought you were," Umbridge remarked snidely as she stormed away. "You'll serve your detention with Professor McGonagall."

Harry frowned. That wasn't what I wanted.

Fred and George approached him after lunch that day. "So, Harry, was that about the letter you gave us?"

"Yeah, I wanted detention, but I was hoping it would be with Umbridge, not McGonagall," Harry admitted.

"You wanted detention?" the right twin asked, staring at Harry as though he was some strange creature that had never been seen before.

"It's a long story," Harry replied in lieu of an explanation. "But, I can point out that there is no evidence it was me, and if needed, I can testify under veritaserum that I did not write the letter, I did not deliver it to her, and I had never seen it before she showed me. So, at some point, I'll be able to prove that the punishment was completely undeserved."

"What do you mean, you'd never seen it?" left twin demanded.

"I saw the envelope that it presumably was in, but I never saw the letter itself," Harry explained proudly.

The twins considered this for a moment. "Clever," they said approvingly in unison, before turning to walk away.

Harry sighed as they left. Well, then, I guess it's time for plan B.

"Luna, do you still have detention with Umbridge?" Harry asked as he approached the blonde girl.

"Yes, every evening until Wednesday of next week," the girl replied. "Why?"

"Because I would like to take your place on…" Harry thought for a moment. "Monday," he decided.

Luna frowned. "I'm not sure that such a thing is permitted."

"It is if nobody knows it's me and not you," Harry pointed out.

"I see," Luna replied contemplatively. "I assume you intend to use Polyjuice potion, then?"

"Yes, if that's alright with you," Harry said.

"I know the other girls in my dorm are concerned about boys using Polyjuice to see what they look like naked. Some even take a special potion to prevent that." Luna frowned. "Would you use it to see what I look like naked?"

"No," Harry said quickly, his face flushing a little at the idea.

"Okay," his friend replied as she pulled a hair off her head and handed it to him with a smile. "Here you go." She skipped away.

Harry studied the long, yellow hair closely before slipping it in his pocket. Umbridge wouldn't know what hit her.

Saturday's game against Hufflepuff was much closer than anyone had expected. The Badgers had put together a surprisingly strong team, belying their typical reputation as a bunch of duffers. Even after an hour of play, Gryffindor was only up by 20 points. It was clear that this would be a battle of the Seekers.

Unfortunately for Harry, his borrowed Cleansweep handled just a little differently from what he was used to, while Cedric was fully accustomed to playing on his broom. On the other hand, despite his accelerated growth, Harry was still shorter than Cedric, allowing him to accelerate a bit faster due to his smaller profile. Of course, this also meant that Harry was more impacted by the strong winds sweeping across the pitch.

It was a game that could have gone to either side, and like so many such games, in the end it was a matter of chance. Harry spotted the snitch behind and to the right of Cedric, giving the Gryffindor an advantage as the older teen had to turn before he could begin accelerating toward the small, golden target.

Snitch in hand, Harry landed on the pitch.

"Congratulations," Cedric said genuinely as he landed nearby.

"That was a good game," Harry replied, holding his hand out. "It could have been either one of us."

"We'll have to do it again some time," the Hufflepuff suggested.

To Harry's surprise, there was a letter waiting for him when he returned from the locker room. He read it quickly, a smile forming on his face as he reviewed the contents. It was not a nice smile.

Glancing at his watch, Harry was pleased to note there was still plenty of time before curfew.

A few minutes later, he was knocking on McGonagall's door.

"Enter," the Scottish teacher called.

"Hello, Professor," Harry began as he opened the door. "I wanted to let you know that I received the report from Bolt Brooms regarding the Firebolt." He handed her the letter. "As you can see, several of the charms were misapplied when Professors Flitwick and Hooch tried to put it back together after dismantling a state-of-the-art broom. Most significantly, the Unbreakable Breaking charm was not properly isolated from the steering control charm, which would have significantly reduced the duration of both charms. In their opinion, it still would have lasted for at least a year, but eventually both charms would have simultaneously malfunctioned, causing the broom to come to an instant stop, likely throwing me off in the process."

Harry was pleased to see the look of shock on the teacher's face, but he pressed on without giving her a chance to reply. "Which, of course, means that in your supposed attempts to ensure the broom was safe, you made it more likely for me to be killed."

Harry spent the next day reviewing the reports Peter had sent him. Fortunately, while the team was making great progress on their specific objectives, there wasn't much that directly concerned him. He was pleased to note that Peter and Michelle had located a good spot for the basilisk breeding facility down in Brazil. Construction would begin within the month on the outer shell so they could set up the time compression field as soon as possible. It would take several months to finally get up to speed, with Connor's estimate being that the facility would be ready to use sometime in November. Time would be accelerated by a factor of about 300, so they could raise a three-century old basilisk in just a year.

In order to be more productive and provide a steady supply, Peter recommended having space for three basilisks, harvesting one every four months. The first two would be killed early to start the pattern, but even a hundred-year-old basilisk would still sell for a fair fortune. Training the massive snakes to bite on a device designed to collect their venom in order to be fed would greatly increase the quantity of the expensive venom, increasing the profits from the venture.

The facility design was larger than was needed for the three snakes, but after analyzing the demand from the carcass of the Chamber of Secrets basilisk, Malcolm and Dan had recommended against breeding any more than three at a time. Harry hadn't understood the full reasoning, but it was something to do with economics, and how an increased supply of goods led to lower prices and profits without sufficient demand. For now, the extra space would remain unused, though Harry already had some ideas of other animals that could be bred there.

Malcolm had estimated that, once the initial bugs had been worked out and things were running smoothly, they should be able to bring in at least 300,000 galleons per month, though it would obviously be in many different currencies, which could make exchanging the money difficult at times.

Peter had recommended approaching Adrian Greengrass of Greengrass Holdings, one of the larger international companies in magical Britain to work out some sort of a deal regarding the foreign wealth they would be accumulating, but Harry was still a little hesitant. Notwithstanding his son's decision to help Malfoy attack the muggleborns last year, Adrian Greengrass did seem to have a reasonably good reputation and a good track record on the Wizengamot regarding reasonable policies, often holding to a middle ground in between the blood bigots and Dumbledore's lackeys, but Harry was still uncertain about bringing the man into his inner circle, so to speak. Perhaps after Malfoy's crimes had been exposed, and the Foundation's true purpose had been revealed to the public, then Harry could approach Greengrass.

Pushing aside the thoughts this inevitably brought of the exceptionally attractive Slytherin who was secretly giving him information, Harry continued to read.

By most estimates, the total of the incomes of the approximately 8,000 workers in magical Britain was about 350,000 galleons per month. The fact that, provided things went as expected with the basilisk breeding facility, Harry would be making a significant fraction of that wealth, meant that he could have a tremendous impact on magical Britain's economy, which, Dan noted, would likely be necessary to overcome the well-established monopolies that controlled most of the wealth.

Money wins wars. It was an age-old truth of which Harry was fully aware. He was glad that he would have enough money to fight back against the corrupt elite who would no doubt try to crush him when they realized what a threat he posed to their position at the top of society. While he would have been willing to use his family fortune if necessary, he didn't want to so casually throw away the wealth that his ancestors had worked so hard to accumulate.

He had no such sentimental aversion to using the money from the basilisk farm, however. Instead, the idea brought a smile to his face. They won't see me coming until it's much too late, the teen thought gleefully.

The next night, while passing the time before he needed to take Luna's place in the detention, Harry sat in the common room with Hermione and Neville, diligently applying his inner eye to the divination homework in front of him.

"Which sounds like a better reason for me to be attacked by wild man-eating squirrels at Quidditch practice next week: that Jupiter is in the seventh house of Pegasus, or that Saturn has begun its retrograde progression?"

Both his friends looked at him blankly, but it was Hermione that finally responded. "Given that neither of those things makes any sense, I'd say that they're both equally bad."

"Saturn it is, thanks Hermione," Harry said with a smile as he turned his attention once more to the parchment in front of him.

"I cannot believe you get away with just making stuff up like that," she said, glaring at him.

"Hermione, it's divination," Harry replied, rolling his eyes. "It's just a bunch of made-up stuff. Can you name one prophecy that has come true that wasn't self-fulfilling?"

Surprisingly, it was not Hermione, but Lavender Brown who answered. "The Korrkoricon predicted the establishment of Hogwarts," she said with a smirk. All three of the golden trio turned to look at the normally vapid girl, who was seated on a couch next to Parvati a little way off.

"What?" Harry asked eloquently.

"The Korrkoricon, the oldest book of British history, prophecies and legends, foretold the establishment of Hogwarts," she repeated. "More specifically, it spoke of four great scholars whose houses would endure until the world is broken." The girl gestured to the room around them. "And what do you know? Four founders, each with a house named after them."

"What's that bit about the world being broken?" Neville inquired.

"It's a reference to the Three Woes that will rise up to destroy civilization," Parvati said ominously.

"I'll believe it when I see it," Harry remarked flippantly. "And as for the Hogwarts one, four scholars whose houses endure is pretty vague. Or it could be that they got the idea from the prophecy."

"While I do agree that prophecies tend to be nebulous, that's not the only foretelling that has come true," Hermione replied, to Harry's surprise. "It's believed that Sir Francis Drake was given a prophecy that contained key information that played a crucial role in allowing the English to defeat the Spanish Armada in 1588. According to historians, it was immediately after that event that the Department of Mysteries in the Ministry began collecting and analyzing prophecies, though, of course, very little information about that has ever been revealed to the public."

Harry held his hands up in surrender. "Okay, maybe there's more to divination than I thought. But I've gotta go, so you all can keep talking if you want. Just don't mind me," he said as he packed his books and parchment into his fancy new binder.

Soon he was standing just down the hall from Umbridge's office on the third floor. Taking a deep breath, he drank the potion, trying to ignore the odd sensation as his body rearranged itself to take Luna's form. Quickly transfiguring his school robe to be smaller with blue trim, he strode up to the door and walked inside.

Umbridge was waiting, a malicious smile on her face. "Good evening, Miss Lovegood," she purred, her voice sinister. "Let's see if that lesson can sink in any deeper." The squat teacher pointed to a desk, where a long, black quill had been placed next to a long piece of parchment.

Harry sat down at the desk and began to write, keeping an eye on the professor as he did. He had no idea what lines Luna had been assigned, so he just settled for writing the alphabet over and over. Not surprisingly, Umbridge quickly turned her attention to other matters.

Still pretending to be focused on the task she had assigned, Harry pulled his wand out of his pocket with his left hand, then switched it to his right, immediately sending a non-verbal stunner at the despicable teacher, who collapsed in her chair.

Harry grabbed his bag and retrieved a dictaquill and some parchment, which he carefully prepared on the table, then walked over to Umbridge's desk, pulling out a vial of veritaserum as he approached her. Harry smiled as he carefully administered three drops in the foul woman's mouth.

An hour later, the veritaserum finally wore off. Harry was no longer smiling. Instead, the horrified teen was having a hard time keeping from screaming or cursing the revolting witch in front of him.

I should just kill her and be done with it, he thought but managed to restrain himself. Umbridge would get what she deserved eventually. But for now, there was work to be done. Things needed to be set right, and there was no time to waste.

Harry dosed the reprehensible teacher with a forgetfulness draught, then woke her up, taking advantage of her confusion to quickly escape the room. He'd had to take a second dose of Polyjuice, so he would look like Luna for another 45 minutes or so, but he had prepared an additional vial of Polyjuice with one of his own hairs, allowing him to regain his normal form, which was very important given that he had his regular detention with McGonagall in just a few minutes.

Fortunately, his head of house had agreed that there was no evidence he was the one who wrote the derogatory letter Umbridge had found, so the transfiguration professor allowed him to do homework during the detention. Tonight, however, he would be concentrating on something else.

Before he arrived at the office, Harry used the communicator to contact Peter. "Can you meet at midnight tonight? I have information; we need to figure out what to do with it. I finally managed to interrogate Umbridge. It's worse than we ever thought."

A/N –Reviewer DebatorMax requested that I give you all a quick refresher on the OC's that make up Harry's team. Thanks to for the idea.

OC's on Harry's team:

Peter Wilson – 1st team member contacted by Harry. Head Boy 2 years after Harry's parents. Ravenclaw. Runs the show in Harry's absence. Tends to be quiet and thoughtful. General knowledge, quite interested in government and justice.

Chad Pfluegerman – American and proud of it. Always enthusiastic, tends to be a little bit ostentatious during presentations. Focuses on technomancy, runes and arithmancy.

Henry 'Mac' MacArthur – 40+ years of experience years as an Auror, 11 as a hitwizard. Bold and blunt, he'll always call it as he sees it.

Michelle Fairbanks – Studied potions, but couldn't get in as a healer. Returned to Muggle World, worked odd jobs until met husband, they have 2 kids (ages 14 & 18). Particularly interested in history.

Connor Fairbanks – Muggle, but enthusiastic about learning about magic. Has a surprising amount of knowledge of runes and arithmancy. Electrical Engineer, works well with Chad on technomancy.

Ferdinand 'Dan' Falkenson – Comes from a poor pureblood family, similar to Weasleys. Realized early on that he wouldn't be able to get far in the wizarding world, so began learning about the muggle world. Very successfully self-employed as a freelance business advisor/consultant.

Malcolm Prewett – Molly Weasley's second-cousin accountant. Good friends with Dan, who he sometimes works with. He's a squib, but isn't bitter about not having magic, though he did decide it would be best to live in the muggle world.

Heather Wilson – Peter's wife, has a background in education. Doesn't do much with the team, but she does help out now and then.

Other OC's:

Isobel Caron – A French healer who has an independent clinic focusing on strange or unusual cases. Harry goes to her regarding his scar.

Brian Williams (a.k.a. 'Bembe') – Magical specialist with an emphasis in Voodoo, recommended by Healer Caron. He was able to cleanse the soul shard from Harry's scar, and is now helping the team deal with Voldemort's horcruxes.

Anatoli Ivankov – Harry's summer tutor from Durmstrang. Originally taught runes and rituals, but familiar with many other subjects. Retired when Karkaroff became headmaster.

Thomas Monroe – a worker at the Foundation for the Future whose appearance Tonks used to infiltrate a private event. He's not going to appear again.