A/N: Thank you for reading, and thank you to those who have left reviews so far! Also, shout out to Emma for having a quick look over these chapters to check for stupid mistakes… of which there are several.

Reunions

"ROMY! Tell me you saw him, tell me you saw him!"

Pippa Blakely zoomed over and launched into a hug. She jumped up and down while still hugging me, which was about as violent as it sounds.

"Harry Potter is coming to our school, Harry Potter is coming to our school!" She let go, her bright eyes scanning the now-crowded inn as more and more students arrived with their chattering native birds and quivering possums. Some had stayed the night at the inn, others had slept at Bed and Breakfasts nearby, and still others had come straight from the airport. "Where is he?"

"Already on the boat, talking to the captain, I think."

"Let's not forget why he's here." Evie Winter, who was sitting beside me with a banana muffin and a coffee that smelled deliciously of vanilla, nodded over to the Roseberg brothers. They had lost their younger sister over the holidays to the killer. The two boys stood in the corner, apart from the rest of the gathering students, and watched the surrounding reunions with solemn expressions.

Pippa's beam died. "Oh, right. Sorry."

I tugged at one of her plaits. "You're allowed to be excited. We all know how much you idolise him."

It was a family thing. While Pippa's mother had been born in Cuba, she'd immigrated to Britain at a young age and had just graduated from Hogwarts with Pippa's father during Voldermort's second rise to power. The whole Voldy-Harry battle had been famous over there, so her parents had brought their fannish ways to Australia. We'd heard the stories here, of course, but they'd had none of the impact they'd had overseas. The only reason I was such a fan was because I was hoping to become an Auror too, and he was absolutely the best in the world.

"Did you talk to him at all?" Pippa said, looking hopeful.

"I didn't," Evie said, sipping her coffee. "I only got here a few minutes ago."

Pippa turned to me, her hands clasped in pleading.

"I talked to him," I said, grinning. "But only for a little bit."

He and I had managed to briefly discuss his plans to keep the school safe during the year before students started coming down from the upstairs rooms. He'd also mentioned his godson was a Metamorphmagus like me, which was the coolest thing ever. And, he'd added with a stern look at Valentine, in Britain they didn't ask Metamorphmagi to work undercover for the Ministry.

Valentine had told him desperate times called for desperate measures, just as sternly, then slipped away – she was never one for socialising. Harry hadn't wanted to talk openly with me in front of other people, so our conversation had stopped there. No one was supposed to know I was a spy for the Ministry. Not even my best friends.

Pippa gave an excited little jump. "What did he say?"

"He said he was here to protect us, and he had a place in the castle to stay." I gave a casual shrug. "That's about all." At Pippa's disappointed pout, I added, "I'm sure you'll get a chance to talk to him. He'll be there until they catch the killer."

She cheered up immediately and went to the counter to order a coffee to go. The boat would be leaving soon.

"You'd almost think she wanted the killer to remain at large," Evie said, watching Pippa over the rim of her cup.

"Give her a break, it's a big deal for her."

"Mmm. I'd rather there be no killer at all than the chance to meet a so-called celebrity." She picked at her banana muffin. "Do you think she did the Dreamtime homework? Aunty Shelly told me she was going to set the Bunyip on her if she hadn't."

I had a sudden tsunami of nerves that Pippa hadn't done her essay, and promised myself I'd force her to write it on the boat if I had to. Aunty Shelly wasn't one to threaten without following through.

Unlike the rest of us, Aunty Shelly really was Evie's aunt. Evie had come from a long line of highly-accomplished wizards and witches, with Aunty Shelly being the most recent national success thanks to her ability to weave Dreamtime stories into common household spells to make them extra potent on Australian soil.

More than half the Australian magical population was Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander, which surprised exactly no one. The bloodlines ran back forty thousand years.

The boat's horn blared, signalling that it was time to start heading aboard. I grabbed my suitcase and Kooky's cage. Evie's morepork owl, Ruru, sat serenely in his own cage as she picked him up. Mags the magpie wasn't around – he always flew on his own and met Pippa at her destination because he didn't put up with nasty things like cages and plane trips. I was always impressed by his yearly trip across the Nullarbor, because Pippa travelled from Perth to Melbourne to visit Arbour Alley before hopping over to Tasmania, and that was a damn long way to fly.

"Ready?" Pippa said, joining us with her takeaway coffee in hand. She picked up her own suitcase, which she'd released earlier in a flurry to hug me, and grinned at Evie. "Have a good holiday, Eve?"

"Reading about death every week in the Aussie Herald isn't exactly what I'd call a good time."

Pippa nudged her with her elbow. "Don't be so glum. Harry Potter will catch the killer in no time."

"Then she can go back to being morose about finals," I said.

Evie sighed. "Don't remind me about Y.O.W.I.E.s. Do you know I got two Es last year? Aunty Shelly said it was lucky I'd gotten an O in Dreamtime or she'd have kicked me out of class."

Evie was the one everyone expected to get top marks because of her famous family history. I'd found her crying more than once last year, surrounded by parchment and books as she tried to absorb all the information the teachers kept dumping on us.

It got harder each year, and seventh year promised to be the worst. Not only did we have to take Y.O.W.I.E.s (Yearly Onerous Wildly Incessant Exams) like always, but this time our results would determine whether we could get into the job we wanted, or apply for higher education. It had caused a bucketload of stress for the seniors before us.

"All right," I said, heading for the queue slowly moving out the back door and to the boat. "It's time to go back to school."