You're Abusing an Old Man

Over the following days, Gavin adjusted his schedule to a degree that even the ghosts in the Hufflepuff Common Room found absurd.

Every morning, before dawn had fully broken, he appeared outside the Headmaster's Office.

The Gargoyle could no longer be bothered to turn its eyes. As soon as it saw him, it hopped lazily aside, revealing the spiral staircase behind it.

By the time he came out at night, the corridor lights had long since gone out, and even Filch's cat wanted nothing to do with the halls.

House-elves brought all three meals straight to the Headmaster's Office. The silver covers on the trays were lifted and replaced; sometimes Gavin forgot to eat at all.

Dumbledore's condition, meanwhile, changed visibly as the days passed.

For the first two days, he was still the vigorous headmaster who personally poured Gavin a cup from the teapot the House-elves brought, then settled elegantly back into his high-backed armchair.

By the fourth or fifth day, he had stopped pouring Gavin tea. Instead, he curled up in the chair with honey tea and pretended to nap. He said he was practicing meditation, occasionally opening one eye to check whether Gavin was still there before closing it again.

After a week, Dumbledore abandoned every last shred of dignity. A long sofa appeared beneath Fawkes's Perch, with an old-looking wool blanket thrown over it and a pillow already squashed out of shape.

On the eleventh night, Gavin was concentrating with his eyes closed, controlling the magic of the Philosopher's Stone at his fingertips, when an utterly exhausted voice came from behind him.

"Mr. Gu."

He opened his eyes. Dumbledore was leaning against the arm of the sofa, without his glasses, half his face buried in the pillow. A tuft of hair stuck up behind his ear.