a/n: Though we know what idiots are, we know not what they may be.
Goyle: Nocturnal Activites
...2:17am
Twenty-thousand-three-hundred and four. Twenty-thousand-three-hundred and five. Twenty-thousand, three-hundred and six. Twenty-thousand, three-hundred and, uh, six. Twenty-thousand-three-hundred and seven...
Sheep taste bad.
Ma roasts them sometimes at home, mutton. It's supposed to be some kind of delicacy. It stinks. They're the only meat I don't like. Some nights, I count chicken instead. Or cows. But then, that makes me kind of hungry, and that's no good. Not that sheep are any good. I only do them because I can't remember the word in the sleeping spell.
Somnackety. Or
Somnificus.
Somnicoolocoos... Something like that.
I wrote it down somewhere. I just can't remember where.
Crabbe is snoring as usual. He never has trouble falling asleep. The next bed down, Draco is sleeping, too. I guess everybody is sleeping right now. It must be really good to be sleeping now. It's raining hard. Though it's warm in the dormitary, I can hear it overhead through the walls. I don't like rain.
I'm awake like this just about every night.
Once, in History of Magic class, we read about a wizard, Rotundo Griddlewarf, who got mad a leprechaun king and got himself cursed with the Insomnia Curse and couldn't sleep at night for forty-seven years until he went crazy and died, his eyeballs shrivelled dry in their sockets. He's the only other one I know about, though. I hope I don't die. I don't know what happened to me. I don't think I was cursed.
I don't remember that happening. And I've been counting sheep since as far back as I remember. I don't think I've met any leprechauns either. Though maybe Pa did it. He's always saying what an ugly baby I was and how, just looking at me, he wanted to bash me or something. It couldn't have been Pa, though. Curses are even more complicated than spells, and Pa has trouble remembering words, too.
It's still raining outside.
Twenty-thousand-three-hundred-and-seven... That's eighty-one-thousand, two hundred and twenty-eight mutton chops.
...
I guess I'm going to have to go see The Albertus. I haven't been in a week. Not because I didn't want to go see him, or because the sheep have been working this week, but because I haven't figured out that last problem he gave me yet.
The Albertus' going to say I'm stupid, again.
I guess it's true. I'm not too bright. I have trouble with a lot of things. If I go see him, though, he'll show me the answer.
The Albertus is pretty smart. Like Draco.
...
I feel for my robes and climb out of my bunk. It's dark. I can't find my left shoe. I can never find my left shoe. Crabbe probably hid it again. The arsehole, I get him in the back with my right shoe. He doesn't even roll over. No one wakes up. I grope past Crabbe's bed, then Draco's, to the door.
The Common Room is dark, too. I think I brought back some cookies from dinner yesterday. I stashed them away so Crabbe couldn't find them. I can't remember now where I put them. I head on. Across the Common Room, there's a passageway and then the stairs out of the dungeon.
Out of the dungeons, I try to be as quiet as possible.
I have to concentrate hard because the castle is really confusing. Especially at night time. All the corridors are black and they all move or something. The stone floors always make my toes cold through the socks, too. There're a lot of rights and lefts and downs and ups. Half lefts. Three-quarter rights. I'm not good with things like that. Sometimes it takes a long time to find the way.
It's bad when I get lost.
Once, I found this entire hall filled with rooms packed with bottles stuffed with little dead dogs. I guess I didn't find it. I got lost and ended up there, and I tried to find my way out, and all along the hall, every door I opened it was the same, all these dogs, floating in glass bottles, like pickles. That was pretty bad. I don't know, Hogwarts is filled with loons.
Sometimes it's better just to stay in bed and stick with sheep.
But I don't get lost so much anymore. I just have to go along really slowly and stop, now and then, to think. My feet get kind of numb.
I always feel hungry, too. I wish I had those cookies with me. I guess if I was smarter I would have brought them along, because I would have remembered where I hid them. Though Crabbe probably ate them anyway. That arsehole.