Dumbledore teasingly unfastened the studs on his leather cloak, revealing himself in all his naked, priapic glory to the wide-eyed McGonnigal. He inserted one gnarled finger into his own mouth and sucked it teasingly before running it suggestively down his chest toward the enormous wand which protruded magnificently from his nether regions.
"With a suggestive wink, Dumbledore thrust his throbbing wand in McGonnigal's general direction. McGonnigal pulled the lethal-looking pins from her tight bun, and shook her grey locks wantonly about her face, a look of unadulterated lust in her rheumy eyes. With a feline purr, she snatched the cloak from Dumbledore's mottled shoulders and was about to pounce upon him when the elderly wizard sprinted off with an alacrity which belied his years, crying:
"If you want it, you'll have to come and get it!"
He streaked triumphantly down the centre of Hogwarts main hall, where all the students were gathered for breakfast, with McGonnigal in hot pursuit.
"Bloody Hell!" exclaimed Ron "Was that Dumbledore?"
Hermione's jaw dropped. "Did...did you see what he was wearing, Harry?"
Harry finished polishing his glasses on the tablecloth, and he squinted at her briefly before returning them to their accustomed place on his nose.
"Well whatever it was," he said "it needed a damn good ironing!"