Xenophilius is concentrating. One hand lowers, and the broom begins to tip, before he rights it again, pale eyebrows furrowed. He's going to have to do that charm again, maybe, or check with Snape that-- oh, someone just said his name.

Promptly forgetting his cautious handling of the item, he turns enough to spy Alan, hands removing from where it was holding up the broom -- and, of course, the broom hangs in place, hovering on thin air with only the slightest of wobbles. He is dressed not unusually, for him, in the quilt-patch coat of warm wool over trousers that show his ankles, more ordinary sweater above that.

"Good day, Alan," he greets. "How're you today?"