Tiberius shivered, rubbing his mittened hands together. Sitting atop a glacier in the north of Iceland without any source of heat – magical or muggle – was not exactly how he’d anticipated spending his winter break.

“Professor… if we could perhaps have some heat… of some sort…” His words were stilted as his jaw shivered.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake,” the older man hissed. “It is out of the question, unless you’d like the Scoffin to be drawn to you as a threat. But I don’t fancy filling out the paperwork should you be petrified!”

Tiberius slumped. He’d been honored to be selected for Professor Thorirsson’s research team, until he’d realized it was a team of two, in perhaps the most isolated part of the country. He imagined Professor Jónsdóttir’s team and their daily sails looking for sea serpents, and their nightly trips to the hot springs.

Absentmindedly, Tiberius cast a knitting charm, figuring that if he couldn’t generate any heat, at least he could get a scarf long enough to wrap around his entire body.

Click clack. Click clack. Crunch.

“Pryce!” The older man’s tone was hushed, but urgent. “Don’t move a muscle, and whatever you do, do not look behind you.”