The silver light of the full moon streamed through the windows, bathing the old wardrobe in silvery light. The sheet still lay in a puddle at its base, unmoved from where it had fallen when the child- Lucy- had pulled it off the piece. The Professor- he had been called that for so long he almost began to think of himself as such rather than Digory- stood just inside the doorway of the otherwise-barren room, wondering for the hundredth time what had possessed him to tuck it away in an upstairs room of his country home . And like every other time, the answer came a second later: staring at it every day made him acutely aware of all he was missing in that world beyond the end of his own, and all that he had left behind following his marvelous adventure. So here it sat, because it was easier to tuck it out of sight than dwell on and pine for the impossible.
He took slow steps toward it, his gaze roving fondly over every edge, every line, every detail. The carpenter had done well; nearly every piece of the beloved tree had been used in its construction, and as a younger man he swore he could have felt the tingle of magic when he touched its door, could hear the faintest whisper of the lion's call if he pressed his ear against the wooden panels. He had even tried, the night before after the children had told him their tale, to follow their steps back to that world in hopes that a bit of magic still remained. But now, as he brushed his fingers over the beautiful tree carved in the center of the door, he found that the feeling was gone, replaced by cool, worn, nothingness.
Closing his eyes, he bowed his head, his brow resting against the tree. Though his eyes were slowly deteriorating his memory was as sharp as a sword and the images vivid in his mind's eye of a newly-born world, a lion calling creatures out of the earth to possess and enjoy it, flying over virgin lands on the back of a winged horse in search of a special place where he would find the protection of that new country- and restoration for his mother's failing health. His blood still simmered when he recalled the witch's treacherous words as she attempted to cajole him into selfishly taking the special fruit for himself and leaving without his friend. But two simple words, uttered by the lion so many years ago, would quickly calm his soul:
My son.
Even with the cure for his mother's mysterious illness in hand, it was hard to leave that place. Being there had felt oddly like a sort of homecoming, like he was close to something special, something divine.
But as he grew older and continued his life in this world, he had discovered a second taste of the divine, and it had filled the void in his heart he didn't know he had been carrying since he was a child. He hungered for it like nothing else before, and while he still missed the country beyond the world, he found he felt a little closer to it every day, and every day the call of the lion grew louder in his heart even as it grew softer through the wardrobe.
His eyes flicked open, suddenly aware of tears dampening his weathered cheeks. He wiped his eyes and pulled away from the door. There was no hope for sleep now, so he tarried in the room for a bit, perching himself on the window sill and lighting the pipe he had tucked into his housecoat pocket. An hour ticked passed as the tobacco soothed him nearly to sleep, and he was about to stand and return to bed when the door to the room opened, and a small waif slipped through. Fair hair brushed her shoulders, and she was wrapped in a pink robe over her nightdress. She seemed oblivious to his presence and made a slow bee-line for the wardrobe, opened the door, and peered her head inside. He couldn't help but smile at the child's faith, though he sympathized greatly with her in her longing to return. He cleared his throat, which brought her wide-eyed gaze whipping around to meet his. Faint color came to her cheeks, but her brown eyes were unwavering as she watched him.
"I don't think you'll get back in that way, " he said gently as he stood. "You see, I've already tried." He crossed the room slowly to stand beside her then reached out and swung the door closed. Disappointment clouded her expression, and her gaze dropped to the floor for a moment before meeting his again.
"Will we ever go back?"
"I expect so. But it will probably happen when you're not looking for it." He held out a calloused hand, and after a second a corner of her mouth tipped up and she placed her much smaller hand in his. He flashed her a conspiratorial smile as he guided her from the room "All the same, best to keep your eyes open."