Tick, tick, tick.

The clock kept ticking steadily. I sighed and rolled over in my bed. The weight of the comforter shifted even more to the right and fell off the bed. Groaning, I pick it up and shove it on me, frustrated. The comforter almost falls through my hands.

Annoyed, I sit up. Every time I try to do something simple, like set down a plate, my hands get in the way. The plate ends up falling through my hands, and Mother then scolds me, telling me to "set it down gently," when I didn't try to drop it.

Heaving a heavy sigh, I lay back down, trying to calm myself. Generally, I have trouble falling asleep, as my mind wanders too much. My family, on the other hand, could sleep through anything--anytime and anywhere. I close my eyes, counting my breaths. Mother says that it's supposed to help. I don't see how. The best it does is get me frustrated again once I mess up or loose count.

I try to clear my mind. To think of nothing. Not my state of intangibility and transparency. Not my Gabriel's delay. Not the curious stranger staying down the hall from me.

But... the way he grabbed my wrist! It was so ungentlemanly, one would think he had no manners at all. He'd asked me to call him Newt--but what an interesting name that was. Of course, Mailee-Bell wasn't exactly a common name either. But Newt--

A loud "thump!" came from down the hall, and instinctively I threw my covers off me. My bare feet were on the cold wood floor before I registered the noise, and I absent-mindedly grabbed my robe off of the chair next to my bed to cover up my silk nightgown, and the orb from my nightstand, where I had put it the evening before. Placing the globe in my robe's pocket and creeping to the door, I wondered where that noise had come from. Every room in this hallway was unoccupied and collecting dust except for mine and... Mr. Scamander's! 

My bedroom door creaked slightly as I opened it, and I stepped on the balls of my feet out into the hallway, careful not to make a sound. As I wandered toward Mr. Scamander's bedroom, I wondered, what could've made that noise? The only heavy things in that room were the bed, the grandfather clock, and the bookshelf. Maybe Mr. Scamander had wanted to move the bed. But what was he still doing up? Well, Mr. Scamander is a man of business--who am I to question that?

I cautiously approached the door, which was tightly closed. Silently, I bent down and put my face close to the doorknob, peeking through the keyhole. What would mother say if she saw me snooping? I wondered. I looked inside Mr. Scamander's room. From my view from the keyhole, I could tell that nothing had been moved, and curiously, Mr. Scmander's case was sitting in the middle of the floor, the strings that were previously around it untied. Looking around, I realized one key thing was missing in Mr. Scamander's room, and that was Mr. Scamander himself!

Where was he? Why was he up so late? And what had made that monstrous noise?

Seeing as the room was unoccupied, I straightened up and slowly turned the door handle, hearing the door click open quietly. The door creaked too as it opened, and I stepped inside, no longer on the balls of my feet. I glanced around the room and noticed that Mr. Scamander hadn't unpacked at all. Not only that, but the bed covers were completely untouched. It was as if he had just set down his case, untied it and disappeared!

The grandfather clock in his room ticked away, almost to midnight, and I had the idea to take a glance at his luggage. What exactly did a zoologist bring with him on a business trip? It couldn't be anything to tie up, now, could it? I crept toward the case, aware that Mr. Scamander could come back at any moment, and that he probably wouldn't appreciate myself looking through his things.

I was about a foot away from the suitcase when one of the clasps on the case flicked open. I stopped. That was unusual. I took a step closer and the other clasp flicked open as well. I paused. I'd never heard of a case opening on its own before. 

Lying there, the open suitcase seemed to be begging me to take a look inside, like it had a secret to show me. I got on my hands and knees on the pine floor in my nightgown and leaned toward the case. My hands grasped the corners of the suitcase and lifted it open.

Before I could register the fact that the case seemed to be bottomless, a creature with a platypus-like nose and bristly, grey-blue fur leapt out and scratched my hand with his claws. Shocked, I lost my balance and tumbled onto--or rather into--the case.

My head hit something hard and solid. My vision was blurry, but I could make out the hard, solid thing to be a wooden floor. Trying to process that a wooden floor could be in a suitcase, my vision wandered over to my hand, Focusing in and out, I saw that the gash was pretty bad. It could be worse,  I tried to reassure myself. But what was that creature?

I laid my head down on the hard, wooden floor. All of those missed hours of sleep must finally have been catching up to me. Maybe a little nap wouldn't hurt, I thought, and so I closed my eyes and let myself drift off.