Behind Amosta and Dumbledore appeared a distinguished middle-aged wizard who looked to be under forty.
He wore a deep green robe, its cuffs embroidered with silver thread patterns, while two inch-wide bands of golden silk were sewn along the edges of its front opening. It was elegant and luxurious.
The middle-aged wizard had a prominent nose, deep-set eye sockets, thin lips, and a sharply defined, handsome face that carried a faint air of weathered experience.
The only flaw was the cold gleam in his pale green eyes, which gave him a somewhat sinister air.
"Professor Slytherin."
Dumbledore repeated softly.
His gaze drifted downward, lingering for several moments on the exquisite locket hanging from the wizard's chest before finally settling on the Resurrection Stone ring around his right thumb.
"Quite astonishing, isn't it, Amosta—"
As if afraid of disturbing the middle-aged wizard before them, Dumbledore spoke softly in a dreamlike murmur.
"Talking about homework after class?"
Slytherin's face seemed frozen, incapable of much expression, but a trace of mockery showed in his pale green eyes.
Amosta and Dumbledore tacitly stepped several paces aside and leaned against the wall, clearing a path for Slytherin's cold, piercing gaze, though both knew that Salazar Slytherin could not see them.
The boy facing that imposing presence was drenched in cold sweat. His already pale face was utterly bloodless. He was clearly terrified of Slytherin!
"Do you have another answer, Miss Greengrass?"
Slytherin's gaze shifted toward the pretty, delicate girl standing beside the boy, though she looked somewhat sickly.
"We were discussing Professor Gryffindor, Professor Slytherin!"
At just one indifferent glance, the mental defenses of this ancestor of the Greengrass Family crumbled. With tears in her voice, she blurted out the truth.
"You seem to have a little more courage than Mr. Malfoy, Miss Greengrass—"
Slytherin