The Mystery of the Frozen Heart

1 As Ronny snuck Celestia into his London flat – a nice, modern place that overlooked Diagon Alley, specifically the Leaky Cauldron – she felt an ugly sting of embarrassment: he was risking so much for Alastair, for her, and she didn’t even know what team he played for. Shame on her. Luckily, she saw a large banner above the fireplace (its mantelpiece displaying several trophies) depicting the pale blue and silver colours of the Appleby Arrows. For a brief moment, she considered admitting her ignorance to him, but then her fearfulness got the better of her. Why hurt him by admitting that she hadn’t even thought about Ronny ever since they’d all graduated from Hogwarts? That she’d been so caught up in her stupid little drama that she’d done nothing but navel gaze and feel sorry for herself? It seemed that everyone was a better friend than her, and…

…oh, for crying out loud! Here she was, at it yet again! Ridiculous.

“You have a lovely place, Ronny,” she said, settling down on the silver-blue ottoman that faced the fireplace. “Really lovely. It pays to be an extraordinary athlete.”

Ronny, who’d headed to a stately liquor cabinet and was pouring both of them a shot of fire whiskey, glanced at her over his shoulder, beaming. It lit up his face and made him look healthy and happy.

Thankfully, they had both only regressed to their real shapes once they’d made it inside the flat.

“Thank you. You’re too nice, you know – always have been.” He ambled back and handed her one of the glasses, before sitting down to her left. “When I get back to playing, I’ll get you and Alastair tickets – when we play the Wimbourne Wasps.”

“Your traditional rivals, I assume?” she said, falling back on her old and trusted friend: the artificial smile. It would be better to tell him that he was mistaken, wouldn’t it? Maybe not. Maybe that would only bring the conversation around to her (yet) again.

Trying to be a good person was confusing.

“I remember you not knowing much about Quidditch,” he said, good-humoured, and toasted her. “Happy days, Celestia, and don’t worry. All will be well.” He drank.

“Cheers,” she said, and took a sip. The whiskey tasted amazing. It stung, naturally, and was both sweet and spicy. It warmed her, from her lips down to her stomach. Immediately, she relaxed. Best to drink slowly, and not too much. After all, she hadn’t eaten in a while. Speaking of which… “Ronny, could I bother you for something to eat? I’m starving.”

His smile broadened, crinkling the skin around his eyes. “You’re hungry again! That’s a good sign. It means you're finally starting to believe that we might actually make it.”

“I dearly hope you’re right,” she said, thinking that that wasn’t it at all. No. This was the home straight, make or break. There was no more reason to be nervous. For good or ill, this would all be over soon.

2 When Grindelwald invited Tina to sit with him and have some dinner, she thought about being stupid noble and refusing, but decided against it. In the end, being stupid noble almost always resulted in one being stupid noble dead. Now, Tina had gotten herself into all sorts of near-fatal pickles, and she always did what she thought was right despite her fears. There was, however, no sense in carelessly throwing one’s life away.

Odds were, her life was about to end, anyway.

Grindelwald led her to a corner table at the back of the inn.

It was nice: soft yellow light, a window overlooking the snowed-in town square and the castle at the horizon.

She sat down opposite him, still clinging to her pint of dark beer (ale? She had no idea).

He had the gall to actually smile at her – not sneer, not smirk, not grin: smile, like they were friends.

Unbelievable.

“Is there anything you don’t eat?” he said, as he motioned to a waiter, or whatever that kind of job in this kind of place was called.

“No, I’m not picky,” she said, thinking of her sister’s world-class cooking. Suddenly, she was almost overwhelmed by the intense desire to just be back at home, in her brownstone, having dinner with Queenie. She steadied herself by taking a sip out of her pint. One had to admit, the beer or ale or whatever was really, really great.

Quickly, Grindelwald ordered something in German. When the waiter absconded, he focussed his eyes (was one darker than the other, or was the dim lighting only playing a trick on her?) on her again. “I’m glad to see you healed. That was a terrible curse you were under.”

“It was.”

He arched his fair, thin eyebrows. “You still think I’m going to kill you, don’t you?” When she didn’t reply, he leaned back and snickered. An almost dreamy expression on his face, he looked outside at the picturesque scenery, before scratching the side of his nose and facing her again. He threw up his hands. “Why would we take you in, shelter you, cure you – only to murder you? That makes no sense, Miss Goldstein.”

“So you’re claiming everyone here works for you?”

Again, he snickered. “Work for me? No. But most of us do share a common goal, and even if Miss Trolldenier doesn’t, do you think many people would be able to stop me if I wanted you dead?”

She sat straight and faced him without flinching. “You’re the one who said ‘we’.”

Waving off, he said, “I meant my fellow Franconians. Miss Goldstein, if I wished you harm, you would know it by now. I don’t. Your superiors sent you here in good faith, knowing that this was your only chance. No-one here wants a bright witch such as yourself to die a pointless, not to mention horrible death. Your safety is guaranteed under the circumstances of your arrival.”

That…okay, she had to admit that it caught her by surprise. “Are you saying my superiors negotiated a ceasefire in order to get me cured?”

“No, not a negotiation. More of a” – He spread his arms – “silent understanding. You’re safe here…as long as you don’t go snooping around for the rest of your stay. I shouldn’t need to tell you what will happen to you if you decide to break the rules yet again.”

Behind her, there was laughter. The violin music picked up. China clattered. Glasses clinked. It was nice in here, there was no denying that. She said, “Did nobody accompany me from New York? That seems unlikely to me.”

Infuriatingly, he seemed amused. “Your boss was very worried about you. He cares, even though you obviously annoy him. You should be grateful that he isn’t just a competent wizard, but also a politician. If it weren’t for him, you’d be on your way to insanity and death right now.”

Tina’s stomach cramped. A chill slithered down her spine. “Where is he?”

“That information is above your paygrade, as the expression goes,” he said, smiling again. Seemed like this shmuck was a serial smiler. How irritating. “He’ll be back to pick you up tomorrow, so don’t worry.”

“Easier said than done.” She made herself take another sip of her beer. “One of your friends poisoned me, Mister Grindelwald, so don’t expect me to buy into your selfless act. If it weren’t for her, neither Graves nor I would be here, in the first place.”

“Don’t be too sure of that. There’s more going on behind the curtains than you know.” He waited for a reply that didn’t come. After a few seconds, he shrugged. “You’ll be on your way back home tomorrow, Miss Goldstein. Don’t cause more trouble than you already have. Just go home and count your blessings. You’re lucky to be alive.”

Her throat constricted. Her mouth felt cottony. Her hands were cold, even though she’d started to sweat under the coat she’d filched at the guesthouse. Before she could find the right words to say, the waiter arrived with their food.

Tina’s thoughts were spinning. This whole affair was, in the end, a lot bigger than she had feared. Maybe she had bitten off more than she could chew, but now, she was involved. There was no simple ‘going home and staying out of trouble’. She couldn’t just pretend that the world wasn’t changing. Right now, though, all she could hope was that Percival Graves was safe and sound.

3 Unbelievable, wasn't it? Tia's transformation.  Little Celestia, shy and quiet and somewhat craven. Tia, always the follower, never the leader. Nocturna always thought that her sister made for    the perfect Malfoy wife: meek and conformed; possibly miserable, yet always resigned to her fate.        And now, look at her! Celestia Prewett, rebel witch!

Well, Nocturna would look at her if she could, but Tia had listened to that stupid oaf Petronius Flint and fled.  Now, she almost surely was in possession of the frozen heart and en route      to England. For all her unexpected perseverance and desperate bravado, Tia was weirdly selfish and    petty. There was a certain sense of irony in the whole debacle, was there? When they had been younger, Tia had always been so eager to eat up the whole 'family duty' nonsense, always so selfless - at least in her own mind. That was why she'd married Apollo Malfoy in the first place.

Nocturna, on the other hand, had always had a reputation as stubborn, rebellious, and self-centred. She'd openly defied parental decrees, had refused to enter in a political marriage, had chosen a profession that her family disapproved of.

Now, though, Nocturna was the one willing to sacrifice everything for the greater good, and   Celestia was doing what was best for Celestia.  How could she be so selfish? Yes, sure, she loved that    little fool Alastair Fawley, but so what?  The love of all wizardkind weighed so much more. Individuals were worthless without the collective. Surely Celestia must understand this! Gellert Grindelwald was a visionary. He would lead the wizarding world to new glory. In order for that to happen, everyone         needed to sacrifice something. It was, after all, for the greater good.

Enough bemoaning one’s own personal tragedies, though.

Nocturna had wanted to try Apparating across the Atlantic, but Leta had refused on the grounds of it being all but impossible. Therefore, Nocturna had grudgingly agreed to travel in disguise via ocean liner. The bad news was that Celestia had a head start. The good news was that Leta was connected. There was no way Celestia would be able to get to the Fawleys with only Ronny bloody Flint for backup.

There wasn't.  There couldn't be.

Everything would be fine.

Nocturna would see to it. She would not let her brothers and sisters down - her real brothers and sisters.

It was up to Tia to decide where her true loyalties lay, for good or for evil.

4 Just by reading the paper, Newt could tell that the whole frozen heart disaster was about to come to a sudden and violent conclusion. A terrorist attack on MACUSA, confrontations between    Aurors and supposed Grindelwald supporters, the rumoured death of a Pureblood English wizard, several arrests, a patch of forest that had apparently been shock frosted, an international search for     the Prewett sisters; it all only led to a single conclusion: Celestia had found the frozen heart, and now everyone and their Niffler was after it. Needless to say, the Grindelwald supporters must be prevented from getting their hands on the artefact at all costs. 

At the same time, Celestia herself needed to be both kept apart from those murderous fanatics and prevented from causing terrible destruction in a misguided attempt to save Alastair.

But how to do it? How to salvage such a complicated, nigh-on hopeless situation, such an unholy mess? Newt wasn't much of a team player, entirely by choice, and he would rather take care of these problems by himself. He couldn't, though. God knew he'd tried, but at this point, he had to admit defeat. It was time to bite the galleon.

It was time to ask his brother for help.

Oh, dear.

Newt hadn’t had a proper conversation with Theseus for…what, months? More like years. It wasn’t as if they’d had some sort of dramatic fallout or anything; after all, they weren’t Malfoys or any of that ilk. Newt’s family didn’t have much of a penchant for drama. Theseus was more comfortable moving in high-ranking Pureblood circles than Newt could ever hope to be (or wanted to), but he still wasn’t melodramatic per se.

Still. Still. As overall better as Newt liked to fancy himself, neither he nor his family were exempt from histrionic nonsense. Here he was, pouting because he resented his brother. Truth be told, he’d started resenting Theseus long before the whole Leta fiasco, though that didn’t exactly help any. No, it did not help a single bit.

The reality was…well, what was it? That their relationship was complicated? That they loved each other even though they disapproved of each other? That one couldn’t really understand the other’s choice of career? That they simply had chosen different paths? Yes. Yes, all of that. All of that and Leta. Newt wouldn’t say that it all came down to her, because that was both far from the truth and unfair, but she did play her part in the estrangement of the brothers. At school, she had been Newt’s…well, something. Friend. Something other than a friend. Not quite a sweetheart, but close. Then, disaster had struck, and they’d grown apart. She had built a connection with Theseus, and found that they had much more in common than she could ever have with Newt.

That was the root of the whole issue, really, and not Leta, whose worst crime had been acting like a child when she’d still been one: that Newt and Theseus simply didn’t have much in common. Theseus was formidable. He was a war hero. He was a figure of authority. He was popular. He was a politician. He knew how to play the game, whereas Newt didn’t – nor did Newt have any inclination to do so, if he were to be perfectly honest. The same went for the current catastrophe. If he could, he’d take care of it all by himself, but he was forced to admit that he was in over his head. There was no way that he’d manage to disentangle the whole mess by himself: keep the frozen heart out of the Grindelwald fanatics’ hands, keep Celestia Prewett from making a deadly mistake, save an innocent and endangered beast. If it were just him and Celestia involved, then it wouldn’t be so horribly complicated.

There was nothing for it, though.

Therefore, he contacted his brother’s office (how pompous) and got himself an appointment. That was a tad ridiculous, wasn’t it? That he needed an appointment with Theseus in order to have an actual conversation with him.

Then again, he’d avoided actual conversations with Theseus for a good long while.

They wrote each other on occasion, when Newt was abroad, but that was basically it.

Now, Newt was sitting in the anteroom to his brother’s office, waiting to be called inside.

About five minutes went by before the door was opened and a handsomely smiling Theseus appeared in the doorframe. “Brother! Please, come in.”

Only barely keeping himself from asking why he’d been kept waiting in the first place (it’d be unfair, and he knew it), Newt got up to his feet and followed suit. Inside the office – spacious, bright, modern, clean, and rather sterile – he took a seat before the heavy desk.

His brother settled down opposite him, smiling. “It’s so good to see you! You look well – and so cleaned up!”

That was obviously meant to be a joke, so Newt made himself smile. It probably didn’t look like much, though. “You look well, too.”

“Thank you.” A small, rather heavy silence ensued. Finally, Theseus pressed his fist to his lips and discreetly cleared his throat. He leaned back and started drumming on the arms of his chair with his fingertips. “So what can I do for you?”

Getting right to the heart of the matter without unnecessary small-talk was just what Newt wanted, really. Their parents had taught both of them that. “You probably know that I spent almost a year travelling with Celestia Prewett, looking for the one thing that could save the Fawley family.”

For a few seconds, Theseus just beheld him with a slight frown on his face, but then, he nodded. “Yes. She ditched you in Athens.”

Not a nice way to put it, was that? “She thinks that there’s only one way to make the frozen heart work, but she’s mistaken. I know how to save the Fawleys without causing any more damage.” He hoped that for once, he’d find the right words and manage to convince his brother to help him. “If Celestia hasn’t already made her way back to England, then she must be on her way, and-”

“Why would you think that? Did she contact you?” Theseus’s cold tone of voice was a bit like a slap to the face.

Newt recoiled. “What? No. I-”

“Then how do you know that she’s back home?”

Sometimes, it was just so…oh, so draining to be in the same room with Theseus. Newt took a deep breath, fidgeted with his Hufflepuff scarf (a gift from his mother), and collected himself. It was vital that he keep his cool. He looked his brother in the eye and said, “Theseus, I’m not your enemy, nor am I in league with your enemies. But I’m not an idiot, either. I can draw conclusions, and it seems to me that the only conclusion left to draw is that Celestia has found the frozen heart and is now on her way to her sweetheart.”

Theseus remained impassive. “She’s allied herself with Gellert Grindelwald, Newton.”

Newton? Oh, oh. Things must be deadly serious. “No, she didn’t. All she cares about is saving Alastair Fawley. The furthest thing from her mind is getting involved with terrorists.”

“And you know this how?”

Suddenly, Newt just felt so horribly, devastatingly tired. He shrugged. “Because I’m her friend.”

“After she helped get you tossed out of school?” Theseus arched his eyebrows.

“What kind of person would I be if I insisted on holding a grudge after so many years? No matter what she’s done, that’s not the kind of person I want to be.”

“But you’re fine with holding a grudge against my future wife.”

Future wife? Wow, things must be serious. That was a lot of musts.

Meanwhile, it was all Newt could do not to slap his hands to his face and groan with frustration. He just shrugged again, helpless. “Could you please just listen to me?”

For a moment, Theseus just stared at him, jaw set and eyes narrowed. Then, he relaxed. There was a subtle flush of colour on his cheeks. “Of course.”

“Thank you.” Newt scratched his forehead and nodded. “Theseus, Celestia is not working with the Grindelwald fanatics. I know that. I know her. She may have used them to get to the frozen heart, but their goals are not her endgame. She’s hell-bent on saving the Fawleys.”

“So what do you want from me?”

“I…” He took a deep breath. Outside, the sun was shining. Birds were singing. It was a lovely day. Newt’s heart was heavy. “I don’t want her to get lumped in with terrorists. That would only lead to more death and destruction. We need to help her save Alastair and his family and at the same time prevent Grindelwald from getting his hands on the frozen heart.”

Theseus let this all sink in for about half a minute. Finally, he shook his head. “Even if you’re right, and she’s not working for Grindelwald, I can’t just let her waltz into the Fawley home and experiment on a potential weapon of mass destruction.”

This was exactly what Newt had expected, wasn’t it? He chewed on his lower lip. Losing his composure would be disastrous. He leaned in and placed his folded hands on the cool desktop. “If you try to stop her, all you’ll do is force her hand.”

“So what do you suggest I do? Hm? Roll out a welcome mat?” Theseus’s wit was often a source of hilarity, at least to people who hadn’t grown up with him.

“Let me help her, Theseus. I can get the frozen heart to work without further destruction. We can save lives and keep the heart away from those who’d use it to cause harm.”

Again, Theseus arched his eyebrows. He looked as unconvinced as humanly possible. “You know how to use it?”

“I do.” Truth be told, he only believed he did, but Theseus didn’t need to know that. The conversation was going ill enough as it was.

Theseus looked out the window, pressed his lips together, shook his head, and faced his brother again. “No.”

“Theseus…”

“No. I can’t turn a blind eye on this going on faith, Newt! What were you even thinking, coming here?” He chuckled. “Did you honestly believe you could convince me to just let a potential terrorist walk into a house and blow up a weapon of mass destruction? That’s preposterous, ridiculous, even for you!”

The silence that ensued was so thick, one would be able to cut it with a knife.

“Even for me,” Newt echoed quietly, after what felt like nine eternities. He meant to protest, to try to talk sense into Theseus, but it would be no good.

Theseus had that look on his face – that look. It was hard to describe, really. It was that stonewall expression that meant someone could offer the best arguments to a person, but that the person in question would not listen, come hell or high water. Trying to convince a person with that look on their face was just a waste of breath.

The problem was that Theseus had a bit of a point. From his point of view, it wouldn’t make any sense to just trust the word of his hare-brained, strange little brother, especially since all the facts spoke against it.

Still, it hurt. It wasn’t in any way surprising to Newt, no, but still, it hurt. He pushed back his chair and pushed himself to his feet. How heavy he felt – heavy and old.

Theseus blew out a heavy breath. “Newt, I didn’t mean to-”

“It’s all right. I know what I am. You can think what you like. It changes nothing.”

“Don’t do anything stupid.” Sounding as if it took an effort, he added, “Please.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not stupid, you know. I’m just ridiculous.” Without waiting for a reply, Newt turned around on the heels of his worn-out shoes and walked away. Part of him hoped that Theseus would follow him, force a dialogue, but of course that didn’t happen.

Maybe the mess they were all in was unsolvable, but still, he’d try. It wasn’t as if he had a choice. As he stepped into the fireplace that would take him back home, he realised that from this moment on, Theseus was against him. Newt wouldn’t give up on Celestia, the Fawleys, or the poor and innocent hibernus horridus. Politics were complicated, the whole Grindelwald situation was complicated, and Theseus did have a bit of a point, yes, but what choice did Newt have? He had to try to stop an even greater catastrophe from happening.

Theseus, of course, would do what he had to.

They all would.

Everyone except for Newt seemed to operate under the assumption that carnage was inevitable, but it wasn’t. The situation could be salvaged.

He knew it.

The problem was, in the end, that almost everyone wanted to catch Celestia and take the frozen heart away from her before she could use it. At the moment, almost all the world was her enemy. Should they catch her, then there would be blood.

He supposed the same was true of himself, now. If either the Aurors or the Grindelwald supporters caught him trying to trigger the frozen heart, they would shoot without warning.

If they caught him.

But first, they had to catch him.

He needed to find Celestia Prewett.

5 Things being as they were, Celestia dearly wished she’d made at least a small effort to improve her broom flying skills during her Hogwarts days. As she stood on that windswept, harsh yet beautiful Scottish plain, watching the rehearsal of Ronny’s plan unfold, her hair in her face, she had a million questions, a million doubts swirling in her poor skull.

Could this work? How ridiculous was this idea? How absurd? How dangerous? How in the name of all that was good and holy would someone as inept at sports as Celestia be able to do her own part in all this? To pull her weight? Was it all right to allow Ronny to put himself in danger like this, to pull others into this maelstrom of madness?

Had Alastair’s flair for drama rubbed off on her?

So many questions, so little time.

That was the problem, really – the most pressing one: there wasn’t enough time. In less than a week, Alastair and his parents would die, unless Celestia and Ronny succeeded. Their days were running out. There was only one chance to succeed here – one.

The whole world was against her, against Ronny, against Alastair.

They’d make it, though. The plan would work. It had to.

It had to.