UsernameEmailRegionInterestAOL IMICQ IDYahoo! IDMSN IDJabber

Mullets & co.
"I said enough!"

Howell turned over his shoulder to glare at the squabbling threesome behind him.

He was breathing heavier than usual even during a Quidditch game, and had long ago lost his cap. There was a rip in his billowing shirt, and he'd actually been forced to draw his bow on more than one occasion. His hair stood up crazily as he'd run his hands through it many times, and Howell had a slightly manic glint in his eyes.

"We are lost—No, Ronan, I don't want to hear it, it was a bad turn— it was, but—we all agreed to take it, so Arista—Stop trying to trip him."

Out of the Muggle, the brat, and the steadily tighter-lipped Slytherin that made up their remaining party, it had felt natural to assume the lead as the largest member of it. Howell had no idea how long they had been in the maze, though. The time felt as if it had been hours since they entered the labyrinth straight into the mouth of hell, but that might only be because they were all one wrong turn away from ripping off heads.

But since they had already lost Nona and Penelope, Howell was bound and determined that their party would not decrease further in size, and if that meant making the unpopular decisions, then so be it.

"Now I think we should cut left there," he said, pointing his finger further ahead the path on which they were journeying down. Prickly brambles poked out of the opening of the hedge. "Since the more horrible paths seem to have gotten us further to the centre."