" — Yes, you're right," Gideon agreed, though the idea that his workshop might collapse sent an additional wave of panic through him. He got to his feet unsteadily and took a step forward into the dark. There was something wet on his shoulder, but he wasn't sure what. Maybe a potion, maybe blood, maybe both. His left leg didn't really enjoy having weight put on it, either, but he didn't have time to dally around limping. Macrae was right — he had to get out. Except —

"Where's my wand?" he asked suddenly, reflexively looking around him although he couldn't see a thing. His wand was his constant companion since childhood, almost an extension of his arm. He couldn't leave without it.