The Mystery of the Frozen Heart

Chapter One: Salvation

1925

1 The sky was clear and the sun rose over the Atlantic, drowning the stark skyline of New York City in glorious shades of orange, red, gold, and pink. The Mauretania docked at Pier 54, the Cunard Line pier, just south of 14th Street. It was a crisp, sharp-edged, cold autumn morning. Celestia Prewett stepped off the ramp decisively, the heels of her soft leather boots clicking dully on the polished wood. She was clutching the handle of a relatively small leather briefcase, which carried an assortment of magical objects not meant for muggle eyes.

Of course, anything and everything had to be done to keep magical things away from muggles. Heaven forbid the wizarding world be revealed to non-magical people.

Angrily stomping that thought down in its inception, she adjusted her scarf, sucked in a lungful of the cold, salty, humid air, and headed toward the customs officers. Protocols needed to be observed, after all. This was the law. She was a Prewett. Prewetts followed the law. That was how it worked – simple logic, really.

Clearing customs was easy; she was a tourist visiting friends and would be returning to England soon, there was nothing suspicious in her briefcase etc. etc. She just smiled her way through the questions, said the right things, and then headed out into the streets. She'd been in big cities, before, including Rome and Paris and Berlin in Europe alone, so even though she'd been born and bred on a country estate in East Sussex, she knew how to navigate a metropolis. As she slowly ambled down 14th Street, weaving through busy crowds of tourists and commuters all wrapped up in long dark coats and scarves and hats, she couldn't help but smile a little. New York, just like every other place, had its own flair, and it was a privilege to be able to live in times where travelling across the globe had become so easy.

That wasn't the reason she was smiling, though. No, finally, finally, Celestia was getting somewhere. According to the most reliable source on the planet regarding fantastic beasts and where to find them, the frozen heart (it existed it existed it just had to no more questioning!) was here, in the capital of the American wizarding community. Just thinking about poor, sweet Newt Scamander made her stomach cramp a little. She tried to ignore the ugly sting of guilt that crept up her innards like a parasite. Yes, poor Newt. He was such a good person – sweet, intelligent, peace-loving, tolerant, unafraid, courageous, honest. Truth be told, she'd grown rather fond of him on their little treasure hunt.

Little treasure hunt? She almost rolled her eyes at herself in annoyance. What was with her habit of resorting to ridiculous euphemisms all the time, even in her own head? Well, calling things the way they were wasn't exactly considered proper where she hailed from, and her class of people was all about propriety, at least on the surface; not all pureblood families relied on protocol as much as hers, but that didn't matter. Her branch of the Prewetts was indeed very proper in its dealings with the outside world, and euphemisms were certainly a key ingredient of this.

Her search for the mystical frozen heart had not been a little treasure hunt. No, the treasure in question was literally the one thing that could save her entire universe from falling apart.

Newt had understood her wish to search for and find the darned thing, because he was the last person who'd just stand by and let someone suffer for no good reason. Celestia was pretty convinced that even if there were good reason, he'd still intervene. He was such a sweet, sweet boy, and she had betrayed him. She hadn't meant it to be personal, but it had certainly felt that way. The problem was that he simply did not understand that in order to do what she had to, she'd need to cross a line that he would never. He told her, once he found out about her plan, that there had to be another way. She asked him what that way would look like, to which he hadn't had a better answer except, 'We'll think of something'. That was when she'd discreetly absconded, leaving him in a bit of a pickle in order to get a good head start. She was counting on the goodness of his heart, namely that he wouldn't give her up to the authorities, but there was no telling. Different people had different priorities, and he might just come to the conclusion that preventing the end of her world as she knew it was simply not worth the price.