June 1, 1998
Minerva was sitting in her प्रिय place on the किनारा, शोर of the lake, watching the sun rise over the silent grounds. Just to be alive, to see the first light of दिन hit the गढ़, महल that stood, so resolutely, silhouetted against fading stars, was a blessing. This was Minerva's प्रिय time of दिन because, for a few shining moments, all seemed to be as it should be; as the sun rose higher into the sky, the गढ़, महल would come to life, and the students and professors alike would sit in the great hall and talk of meaningless things and be bathed in the fresh morning...
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