She had only seen him in person twice before, and that from a distance. There was something simultaneously impressive and unprepossessing about him. Yes, he was nothing but an old (very old) man, with a trailing white beard, dressed modestly in midnight-blue robes with neon orange socks: but he was clearly extremely tall and his nose was straight and razor-sharp, like some great bird of prey. From behind half-moon spectacles his eyes were piercingly blue. Hermione felt a sudden sense that of relief that they were not fixed on her.   