I wake in the deserted hospital wing with light streaming through the ceiling-height windows. That would be fine if it hadn't been a late autumn evening when I passed out. Passed out implies such a gentle transition when in reality I was ripped from consciousness and from everything I loved.

Harry… Ron… I can barely think through my grief. I sit upon one of the rickety cots, curl up into a ball, and cry. Usually, I can outfox whatever crisis I find myself in, but this time, it's too much even for me. I let the tears flow through my hands and into the hem of my robes and my trainers until it seems that I'm out of tears. I can feel the warmth of the midsummer sun tickling my skin and turning the wet tears on my face and hands to itchy salt. Through shallow, gulping sobs, I reevaluate my situation.

The time-turner is of the utmost importance. I think I've lost it in the explosion. I look around for it anyway, searching every cot and crack in the floor, until I realise it's still clenched in my fist, my hand white from the tension. Numbly, I let it drop onto a clean cot to assess the damage. The chain is broken and mostly missing and the mechanism is cracked, probably seventy-five percent full.

Gingerly, I give it a single turn, but nothing happens. It's a futile endeavour without the chain, anyway. I leave it where it lies and look for a small container. I find a phial of darkly coloured, thin liquid and spill it out onto the flagstones of the floor, where it sizzles and steams. Finding Madame Pomfrey's sink, I carefully wash out the phial with soap until there's no trace of the original liquid left. Then, I leave it in the window to dry in the sun.

I look for resources I can borrow in the meantime, acutely aware that I could be in any century since the founding of Hogwarts. Hopefully, I'm not too far off from the day that I last used it. I find a spare Hogwarts uniform with no House insignia in a supply closet. The cut is horrid, but if it suffices for camouflage, then I would even wear a giraffe skin. I also pack any potions I might find useful into a carpetbag from the same closet. I am about to leave when I see it: a false bottom to the potions cabinet with something glinting beneath.

As I thought, essence of unicorn horn, and what's this, Acromantula venom? These substances are valuable, obviously worth the time to hide. Altogether they might bring about four hundred Galleons, conservatively. Feeling a little guilty, I pack them away too and put an expanding charm on the bag in case I need more. Lugging it out, I deposit it on the next cot over from the time-turner and check on the phial.

As I expected, it's completely dry with only some chalky residue from the water. I bring it over to my cot and gently tap the time-turner until the remaining sand has fallen into it, every grain. Some grains are stubborn and I have to prise them in with my fingernail, but when it is done, I seal the phial, knowing that I won't lose any precious sand. I place both the phial and the broken time-turner in a bottle of embalming solution for safekeeping, cap it tightly, and add it to the bag.

With my preparations complete, I try the door to the rest of the school. It's locked. Unperturbed, I whisper Alohomora with my wand against the lock. It clicks open and I push the door out, tiptoeing into the corridor. As expected, it is deserted. I try to make a list of things I will need. I could maybe raid the dungeons because Professor Snape's burgeoning collection defied his careful inventory efforts, but anything else would be too risky. I find my way down and enter the Potions room. I try the storeroom door: locked again. I use the Alohomora charm, but this door is bound by something stronger than a simple lock. Defeated, I rummage around for some of the more common ingredients and some pre-prepared potions and salves. I also take a standard cauldron, placing everything else in the bag inside this to conserve space, near-unlimited as it is.

I do dare to check the other classrooms for things that won't obviously be missing and score some extra supplies, including a spare textbook from each class. My greatest hope would always be the library, but I know that I cannot take any books from there because their loss would be immediately obvious. Stopping by anyway, I notice that certain elementary texts like Hogwarts, a History are not present. Perhaps they have not been published or found a popular academic audience yet. Checking my mental list, I now have everything from the Hogwarts supply list except for the pet; my beloved, hairbrained cat Crookshanks is God knows where.

I look through a window and calculate the approximate time from the Sun, just as I was able to discern the approximate season. I deduce that it is early afternoon and I have many hours of daylight ahead of me before I can safely leave the school. I spend the rest of the day quickly paging through every unrestricted book in the library that appears useful, memorising and taking diligent notes. I forget everything else except the books that I voraciously consume, and by the time I am mentally taxed and can only find information I've already gleaned, two days have passed and I am exhausted, thirsty, and starving, each sensation vying for my immediate attention. I had been planning on using the natural light as a gauge of time, but there is no natural light in the Hogwarts library.

I sprint to the hospital wing and slake my thirst with cool, silty tapwater. This also stifles my hunger a little, and I am in a good frame of mind to return to the library, put away my notes in good order, and return the books to their places on the shelves as best as I can remember. I need to escape from Hogwarts while I still have the strength. I haul my bag all the way to the entrance hall, but then I realise that the massive doors are enchanted. Even if I could exit with Alohomora, leaving the school grounds would be another matter entirely.

I sit down on my bag, a surprisingly comfortable cushion. Then, I think hard. It is difficult for me to logic through various exit strategies because my tired brain begs for sleep. Maybe I should heed it, but I am determined to find something to eat before my body shuts down. The kitchen may be open, but the charm that animates the dishes might detect me, and if not that, the Hogwarts ghosts easily will. I don't have a broom or enchantment that will break my fall if I leap from the towers and I can't burrow out under the lake. I need a way out undisturbed, at least to the grounds where I can find the tunnel to the Shrieking Shack.

The answer is so obvious, I am surprised that I did not immediately think of it. Harry told me about a secret passage to Hogsmeade on the third floor near the statue of Gunhilda of Gorsemoor. Gunhilda, who cured dragon pox in the seventeenth century, should be easy to identify because of her deformity, a single eye. I find the dark corridor that he mentioned; boys are notoriously horrible at describing locations, so I have to rely on my own knowledge of Hogwarts to find the place.

I don't see any sign of an entrance by the Gunhilda of Gorsemoor statue, not even disturbed dust or a chink in the wall, but that is only natural for a magically sealed secret passage. I tap the statue and wall with my want, use Revelio, and even resort to Diffindo, Reducto, and Alohomora in my desperation. Nothing succeeds. Harry did mention an incantation, didn't he? What was it, Diffendium? No, Dissendium. I mutter it, and nothing happens at first, but something has changed. What is it? Gunhilda is no longer a hunchback. I peer into the cavity where her hump was, and sure enough, there is a gaping, stagnant tunnel. I will have no luck reentering this way, but I don't need to right now. I am confident that I have forgotten nothing.

I drop my bag in and hear it whoosh down the passage before clattering at the bottom. There is maybe four seconds until the clatter, so I am reasonably confident that the drop will not kill me unless there is something spiky at the bottom. Taking my chances, I hike up my robe and clamber in.

My world is replaced by an awful rushing sensation as my only remaining senses are the cold of the stone under me and the foetid air that my body is barely displacing. I yelp as the slide comes to a sudden stop and I send my bag skidding across the level floor like a hockey puck. When I find my feet, I am surprised and thankful to find that the passage is dry. I cast Lumos to give myself a little light and feel my way forward through the close tunnel. There are no turns or branches in the path, and I find my bag straightforwardly– or my bag finds me when I trip over it. I scrape my knee but do not cry out, and once more, I forge my way onward.

I have no way of telling the time besides counting seconds, and I am sure that if I try that I will lose my mind. Therefore, I decide to count my strides up to one thousand, shoot off red sparks, and begin again from one. I have completed this cycle six times and am halfway through a seventh when I come out into a dark but airy room: a basement, I decide. There is some light down here, and when I extinguish my wand, my night vision adjusts after a moment. I see crates and barrels and I immediately remember where I am: Hondeydukes, the Hogsmeade candy shoppe.

I feel the bile rise to my throat. Whipping my wand toward the barrel closest to me, I yell, "Reducto!" and ravenously watch dark pustules cascading out. I shovel them into my mouth. The taste is sickeningly sweet and I don't like the texture either; this is not something I would normally choose to eat. I don't care; I need the sugar. What I've swallowed threatens to come right back up, but I force down more to settle it. Within moments, I am moaning and clutching my overfull stomach. I am already blacking out, and I fall asleep right there among the crates of sugary sweets.