*A/N I do not own Fantastic Beasts, its characters, or any of JK Rowling's creations and world, nor do I own the cover picture. I only own my own OC. Story contains spoilers for the movie.
Stella sat on the bench seat on the ship's deck, reading her newspaper thoughtfully. The headline screamed: 'Ghost Monster Strikes Again!' and depicted a black-and-white picture of the destroyed house, which looked almost like a huge jackhammer had smashed right through and it and broken it down to rubble.
This was the third similar case to become public, and the papers were having a field day as they guessed what could possibly be behind these strange 'attacks'. And indeed, it was hard to imagine it was anything but a monster – what else could make it look like there had been a severe earthquake confined to one tiny area of New York?
But Stella was also skeptical of it being the work of a 'Ghost Monster' (who had even named it that?); though she could no more say what it was, the idea that some magical force was at work seemed too far-fetched for her. And that was why she was here.
She sighed as she shuffled the papers and folded them neatly on her lap, glancing about her surroundings for they should be arriving in New York soon. The 'Port Elizabeth' was one of the best ships, travelling the fastest and safest from England; it was why she had chosen to take it in the first place.
Something clicked beside her, and Stella glanced over at the man sitting beside her, noticing him for the first time since she'd taken her seat, as he fiddled with his briefcase.
He looked about thirty years old and was quite tall, even sitting down, though he appeared less so with the way he seemed to hunch uncertainly into himself. His curly, light brown hair was a mixture of neat and messy on his head as his fringe flopped into his face while the rest remained at least somewhat combed in place. Though even then, it looked like he'd run his fingers through it a few times nervously, as there were random tufts sticking up here and there, particularly on the right side.
He was neither very attractive nor was he anywhere close to repulsive – and in fact, he seemed to be trying very hard not to stand out at all. But apparently, his briefcase clasp was giving him trouble as it flicked open again.
"You should really get that fixed." Stella observed, and he glanced at her, startled.
"Oh, y-yes." He agreed quickly, and Stella noticed he seemed to have a perpetual stutter. "I, I really should."
"Is it your first time in New York?" Stella asked sympathetically, noting the general nervous air around the gentleman and his distinct British accent marking him as not from America but one of her own countrymen.
"Is it that obvious?" He asked sheepishly, and Stella smiled as she answered kindly, "No, not really. I'm just good at reading people."
He blinked before looking a little flustered, his embarrassment only further increasing as his briefcase clasp flicked open again.
Stella hid a laugh as she asked, while overlooking his stubborn case politely, "Are you visiting relatives or friends?"
"I'm, I'm here to look around the wildlife." He replied quickly. "You know, e-examine creatures and the land they live in, the animal h-habitats, like a, like a-"
"Zoologist?" Stella supplied helpfully, and he nodded.
Still, Stella couldn't help but raise a brow at his rather peculiar answer.
"In New York City?" She asked skeptically, and he answered hastily, "No, no, I'll probably only look around the city briefly since I'm here anyway, but I intend to travel outside the city."
"Ah, I see." Stella nodded – that made much more sense.
At that moment, the ship's horn blew, signaling their arrival, and Stella perked up as she glanced towards the railings.
"Well, it was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. …" She began as she rose up, and he answered as he held out his hand politely, "Newt Scamander."
"Mr. Scamander." Stella smiled, shaking his hand before introducing, "Rowland, Stella Rowland."
"The pleasure was all mine, Miss Rowland." Newt answered, before grimacing as his briefcase clasp flicked open once more.
Stella did laugh this time, and she said with a teasing smile as she walked off, "You really will want to see that that's fixed. Good day, Mr. Scamander."
Stella walked away then, going to lean on the ship's railings and smiling as the ship finally sailed into New York City harbour.
Newt watched her go, admiring her figure as she walked. She was tall, perhaps ten centimeters shorter than he was at his own lanky build. And she was very pretty – with short, neatly curled blonde hair and bright brown eyes, she was a classic beauty: a bombshell as some would call her.
But what really caught Newt's attention was her warm and yet aloof smile, her friendly but professional manners, and he wondered what line of work she was in. Perhaps a secretary? Or a PA? Not that it really mattered – she was almost certainly Muggle.
Newt winced as his briefcase clasp flicked open again, and he closed it softly once more, placing his briefcase on his lap as he sat back down on the bench. A whine sounded from inside, and he smiled lightly.
"Dougal, settle down now please." He murmured, and his smile widened slightly as he heard Dougal growl restlessly from within the case.
"It won't be long." Newt promised, and Dougal grumbled again but went silent. Newt glanced at Miss Rowland one more time before he picked up his case, and strode away to get ready to disembark.
"Next!"
Stella stood patiently in the immigration line, waiting for the people who had disembarked before her to go through the identification and baggage checks as she shuffled her carrier bag restlessly in her hand. She spotted a familiar figure moving a few people ahead to have his ID checked, and she smiled lightly as she watched Newt Scamander hand over his ID nervously.
He was almost adorably bumbling, and Stella entertained herself with watching him as the line moved slowly forward. His bag seemed to be giving him trouble again, and she noted with amusement that the baggage checker's brow had risen skeptically.
As he requested Newt to show the contents of his bag – or that's what it looked like from her perspective as Newt placed his suitcase on the inspection table – another voice called, "Next!"
Stella turned her attention from the strange man and walked to the open station, handing over her ID and her pass. The baggage checker, a heavyset man, raised a brow as he read them both.
"British, huh." He muttered, his disdain evident. "And they sent you?"
"Yes." Stella answered coolly, having long gotten used to the prejudiced perception of not only her peers but also the general people.
The man eyed her, his gaze still skeptical, but he simply gestured to her carrier bag as he questioned per protocol, "I'm assuming you know the drill since you've been here before, but: there isn't anything edible in there?"
"No." Stella replied patiently, and he checked, "Livestock?"
"No." Stella answered, and he nodded as he checked her ID once more before closing the small book and handing it back to her.
"Welcome back to New York, Miss." He said, a tad sarcastic, but Stella simply replied politely, "Thank you."
"Next!" He called as Stella stepped around him and walked out of the pier, shuffling her papers back into her handbag while balancing her carrier bag in her other hand.
'All right.' She thought determinedly. 'Let's take a look around now, shall we?'
Stella glanced at her watch as she walked down the streets of New York City, heading for her motel. She was a quite a bit early still and had plenty of time to unpack and re-freshen before she needed to head out again, but experience had taught her that when she was told to be at a meeting, she had best be early if she wanted even the slightest chance of being taken seriously.
'One day,' she thought dourly, 'they won't be able to look down on me for being a woman any more. One day… yeah, right.'
Either way, she strode down the streets without really paying attention to what was happening around her as the bustle and noise of the city blared around her. It wasn't that she'd been to New York often, but she'd been a few times and the nature of her work meant the city had lost most of its luster by now.
That said, she still slowed down as she passed before a bank, hearing loud voices and she looked over as a woman cried from the bank's steps, "This great city sparkles with the jewels of man's inventions!"
Stella paused, watching with a slight frown as the woman continued to preach, "Movie theatres, automobiles, wireless, electric lights! All dazzle and bewitch us."
Stella glanced at the banner the group was holding up, depicting an image of two hands breaking what looked like a wand while flames burnt in the background and the letters N.S.P.S. blazed at the top. Her gaze lowered back to the group of three children, two young girls and a slightly older, teenage boy who stood at the back carrying flyers with the same mark.
Her frown deepened as she turned back to the woman as she said earnestly, "But where there is light, there is shadow, friend."
Unbeknownst to Stella, Newt had also paused before the group gathered in front of the woman's preaching on his way of looking around the city. He pushed through to get a better look as his curiosity got the better of him, accidentally hitting a woman eating a hot dog in the crowd with his shoulder.
"Oh, I'm so sorry." Newt apologized, before he also focused on the preaching woman as she cried, "Something is stalking our city! Reeking destruction and then disappearing without a trace. Listen to me!"
Newt placed his case down before his feet while the woman shouted, "We have to fight! Join us, the Second Salemers, in our fight."
Stella wrinkled her nose in disgust.
'Witch hunts.' She sighed, while the woman continued, "You hear me? We have to fight together for the sake of our chil-"
She was cut off as a short, rather chubby man tripped suddenly, falling through the crowd and landing heavily on the ground right at the bank steps.
Stella looked over in surprise and concern, before she was surprised further as she saw – of all people - Newt Scamander leaning down hurriedly to pick up his briefcase as he apologized, "So sorry. My case."
The other man sighed but he shrugged easily as he answered good-naturedly, "No harm done. Uh, 'scuse me."
He hurried off up the steps, while the preaching woman stared at Newt.
"You!" She called, and Newt looked up in surprise at being addressed. "Friend. What drew you to our meeting today?"
"Oh, I was just passing." Newt stammered, and Stella looked between the pair in concern as the woman inquired, "Are you a seeker? A seeker after truth?"
"I'm more of a chaser, really." Newt answered, and Stella snorted.
Perhaps he heard, for he glanced over in her direction before his eyes lit up in recognition.
Stella sent him a smile, which the woman seemed to note with displeasure as she called in a sharp voice, "Hear my words. And heed my warning! And laugh if you dare! Witches live among us."
Newt looked back at the woman, looking borderline alarmed, while Stella fought an eye roll. She glanced at her watch, and noting the time hurried away quickly once more while in the back the woman continued to cry, "We have to fight together for the sake of our children! For the sake of tomorrow."
'Right.' Stella thought to herself as she walked away. 'Let's just ignore all logic, and lay blame on some so-called magic.'
Meanwhile, back at the bank, the woman had turned back to Newt as she inquired, "What do you say to that, friend?"
But Newt was no longer paying attention, staring in horror at a tiny, suspicious paw reaching out from the shadows and towards a homeless person's hat. He watched it grab the hat, almost spilling the silver coins gathered inside it, and then glanced at his briefcase in alarm.
The clasp was open again, and he looked back with wide eyes as he saw the tiny creature sitting at the top of the steps, stuffing the coins into its pouch before scampering off into the bank.
"Excuse me." Newt mumbled quickly to the woman as he hurried passed her and into the bank, while cursing silently in his head, 'Oh, blasted Niffler! You are in trouble when I catch you!'
At the same time, Stella had walked across the street, still thinking about the preachers – the New Salem Philanthropic Society, as she'd heard they were called - and she scoffed to herself.
'There are no such things as witches.' She thought with a huff as she walked on down the road and towards her motel.