Merope knew the woods of home well. The trees that her brother cut down for their fire. Burrows where snakes slept in the winter and made homes of in the summer. Sometimes the babies would accompany her along her walks and forages.

The woods of Hogwarts were unfamiliar. New, dark and loud. The Squires let no town people into their woods and the large animals had been hunted away long ago, making the woods of home silent. Silent aside from her friends slight whisper of the leaves. The Hogwarts woods were not hunted through.

Merope stayed away. Missing her woods, she often stared at the Hogwarts woods during class. Only history though, that was the only classroom with a window.

Professor Binns, the foremost expert in Goblins taught history. His vigorous and emphatic lectures reminded Merope of how her father talked about their family. Sometimes she imagined her father fighting bloody battles against the wizards, not that this took much imagination. Her father hated wizards as much as he loved violence and talking about violence. Merope found a great affinity for Professor Binn's subject.

Unfortunately the woods distracted her throughout class. If not for her seatmate nudging her occasionally she would never have absorbed new stories. Sometimes she saw the leaves shiver, and then nothing her seat mate would do would draw her back to the classroom. Those times her classmate next to her would just copy his notes at the end of class. He knew she would do the same for, because she often had to.

I never saw a man who looked With such a wistful eye Upon that little tent of blue Which prisoners call the sky,