The morning sunlight filtered lazily through the tall windows, glinting off the polished floors. Theo hurried to the suitcase, excitement tugging at his small shoulders. Today was different from yesterday—today, he would care for more than one plant. And, Newt had hinted, there might be a new addition waiting inside.
The suitcase's glow spilled softly into the room as he opened it, filling the corner with a warm, golden light. The two small plants from yesterday leaned gently toward the light, their leaves quivering faintly as if greeting him. The Bowtruckle peeked from its moss-covered branch, tiny twig-like fingers twitching in recognition. Theo smiled quietly and crouched beside it, brushing a hand over the moss. The patterns of movement were already familiar—soft, predictable, and reassuring.
"Today, you'll meet a new friend," Newt said, stepping closer, notebook in hand. "Pay attention. Some creatures are curious, others cautious. Always observe first."
Theo's eyes widened. A small rustle and a glimmer of movement caught his attention. Out from a tiny nook hopped a Niffler, its shiny eyes bright with mischief. It sniffed the air, pawing at the scattered coins and trinkets that had been left inside the suitcase for observation. Theo froze for a moment. He had read about Nifflers in Newt's books, but seeing one in person was entirely different. Its fur shimmered faintly, and each movement seemed both deliberate and playful.
He held out a small hand, letting it hover above the suitcase floor. The Niffler approached slowly, sniffing the air and then stepping lightly onto a soft patch of moss. Theo breathed steadily, remembering Newt's advice: observe, understand, act carefully. The creature tilted its head, inspecting him, before snuffling against his palm. Theo felt the faint warmth of its body, small and delicate, and smiled. A quiet connection was forming already.
For the morning session, Theo's task was twofold: tend the plants and ensure the Niffler remained calm and contained. He watered the first plant lightly, adjusting its leaves so that sunlight fell evenly across its glow. He then turned to the second plant, carefully moving moss around it to support its roots. The Niffler wandered curiously between them, occasionally pawing at shiny stones, but never causing harm. Theo's hand hovered, gently redirecting it when necessary. Each small action was measured, each movement deliberate.
Hours passed in careful work. Theo began noticing subtle patterns in the Niffler's behavior: how it approached shiny objects, how it reacted when moss was shifted too abruptly, how it seemed to watch his movements with quiet intelligence. At the same time, the plants responded to light, touch, and water, bending gently in acknowledgment of his care. Theo marveled at the small ecosystem he was learning to balance.
Newt crouched nearby, observing silently. "See how it tests you," he murmured, nodding toward the Niffler. "Respond with calm and patience. That is how trust is built. And notice the plants—they will teach you subtle cues if you pay attention."
Theo nodded, eyes bright. He adjusted the moss around the second plant, ensuring water flowed evenly to both sprouts. The Niffler twitched its nose at a shiny pebble, then glanced at him. Theo held his hand steady, letting the creature approach, sniff, and retreat at its own pace. By midday, he felt a quiet satisfaction—the plants were thriving, the Niffler was calm, and the small ecosystem seemed balanced.
After a light meal, Theo returned to the suitcase for the afternoon session. Newt had suggested an exercise: arrange moss and plants to create "safe pathways" for the Niffler to explore. Theo crouched, studying the terrain carefully. He shifted a moss hill slightly to allow smoother movement, adjusted a leaf to provide shade, and left tiny pebbles as gentle obstacles. The Niffler navigated the space cautiously, pausing occasionally to sniff the air, but never panicking. Theo's hands hovered above, steady and reassuring.
By evening, the suitcase glowed softly, filled with life and quiet energy. The plants pulsed gently under his care, the Bowtruckle rested among the moss, and the Niffler had curled into a small nook, eyes half-closed but alert. Theo leaned back, small hands resting on his knees, heart swelling with quiet pride. This was more than a task—it was a responsibility, and he had handled it with patience and care.
Newt's voice broke the silence. "You are learning, Theo. Each plant, each creature, teaches you patience, observation, and respect. One day, these skills will guide you far beyond this suitcase." Theo nodded silently, closing the lid carefully. The glow faded to a soft pulse, a quiet reassurance that all was well.
Before bed, he opened his notebook, sketching the Niffler's mischievous posture and the two plants leaning toward the light. Each line carried meaning, a record of his progress. He placed the notebook beside his bed, medallion clutched in one hand, and closed his eyes. In the quiet, the hum of life inside the suitcase lingered faintly in his mind—a small world he was learning to care for, a world that would grow with him, lesson by lesson, pattern by pattern.
And in that calm, golden light, Theo felt, for the first time, the joy of responsibility—and the thrill of discovery that would guide him through the adventures yet to come.