The old man smoothed his flowing white beard, which became rumpled on his way down the stairs and slowly stepped into his office. Dumbledore tossed off his hat and looked around the room. The fiery warmth from the fireplace did little to warm his spirits. He seeked another.
Slowly strolling across the room, past headmasters watching his every move, he came to a rest at his desk. Settling down and pulling his robes free of a sudden catch beneath the chair, he leaned back and sighed. Even the view of stars shining down on his wrinkled, ancient face did little to calm the old man. His blue eyes dimmed as each second passed. And as he peered at what laid upon his oak desk, a sigh released the little air left in his lungs.
The stack of parchment seemed inviting. The windowsill even more. Running a hand through his crinkly head of hair, he closed his eyes and mumbled. "None shall see."
With that, the fire burst forward from behind the light blue eyes, bringing out a sparkling luster that was empty a moment before. He cautiously opened a drawer and smiled. Drawing a stained, yellow sock out from inside carefully positioned tissue paper, he chuckled contently. The color was as he remembered, the texture even more so. The orange stripes across the top did little to distract him and those he fingered thoughtfully.
"I wonder…if they knew."
He hugged the garment close to him and curled up like a newborn. Eyes drinking its sight lovingly, he brought it closer. The white tip where many years of feet-wearing had worn it thin was delicate. A tear pooled up in Dumbledore's eye as he touched loose threads peeking out from the front end. Slowly, the headmaster raised it to his lips.
"Headmaster?"
He froze, lips glued to his beloved and looked up. McGonagall's quizzical face peered back from above.