You find yourself at the end of a long, dimly lit corridor, standing in front of a pair of imposing wooden doors. Engraved into the surface is an image of a tabby cat, curling around a brass handle—a clear symbol of Minerva's presence.

You take a deep breath, feeling a sudden rush of nerves, knowing that you need to meet with her about an important matter.

The doors swing open smoothly at your touch, revealing a spacious and somewhat austere office. The walls are lined with bookshelves filled to bursting with tomes of every size, shape, and subject. The large, well-used desk in the center is stacked with parchment and quills, and a flickering flame from the fireplace casts shadows on the stone walls. A faint, spicy scent of parchment and old books hangs in the air.

Minerva herself is seated at the desk, appearing to be in deep concentration as she studies a large book, her reading glasses perched on the tip of her nose. Her dark hair is pulled back into a tight bun, and her robes add to the impression of strength and authority. As you step forward, Minerva looks up, her sharp gaze fixed on you.

"Ah, you’ve arrived. Please, come in. What can I do for you today?"

Her voice is firm but not unkind, offering a touch of warmth that contrasts with her imposing demeanor. She gestures for you to take a seat in one of the chairs across from her.