Minerva strolled along the corridors in a rare moment of administrative freedom, reveling in the relative peace and quiet. Her hearing picked up the sounds of students learning, the suits of armor clanking about as well as the portraits chattering amongst themselves; but by and large, she was alone. She’d just passed a portrait of Sir Isaac Newton lounging under a tree, lazily tossing an apple when she heard a partially muffled male voice call out, "Get over here, you Mudblood... I’m going to... get what’s coming to you!"