Originally Posted by XanaSnape

CLANG!

The sound of a silver tipped obsidian cane crashing down on stone echoed through the hall, announcing the arrival of Professor Valon R. Kazimeriz, esq.

He took one look in the great hall, and he was not pleased.

The 103-year old man shuffled to a stop behind Paris Greenwood. His liver-spotted, arthritic hand was clutched tightly on the silver head of his cane. His dark eyes narrowed dangerously as he assessed the young girl, and he spoke in a loud, dramatic voice, so all nearby students could hear:

"Someone. Please. Tell me. That this is Miss Greenwood's conjured clone from last term and not the girl herself. For I am absolutely certain that no Slytherin Quidditch Captain would be foolish enough to show up to the Start of Term feast dressed as though a cauldron of Pink Giggle Gulp exploded on her robes."

He turned to the girl, his wrinkled lips pulled into a scowl. "You have not merely broken the dress code, you've shattered it irreparably. So, unless you have an affliction which turns you into a pink puffskein at dinner hour, you have exactly 10 minutes to go get into proper attire and set a good example for your housemates, or I shall start deducting points for every minute your little fashion blunder challenges our retinas." Kazimeriz pulled out a pocket watch on a chain, checking it.

"Go."