"Me neither. And they say kids these days have no work ethic." Howard always assumed that once they got rid of the screaming zombie trying to drive them crazy by sleep deprivation, he'd be able to sleep like the dead. Instead he swapped a basement terror for nightmares and chronic insomnia. He's just peachy like that.

Howard bites his fingernail a bit nervously, waiting for Harry to make his first move. He's not expecting to win, but the rook is giving him a remarkably intimidating evil eye for a piece of animated carved wood. Or plastic. Or stone. Or whatever these are.

"So you use your magic for fighting? Cedric mentioned there was a war." And that he died, but even tactless as Howard can be, he figures that's probably not the sort of thing to just blurt out.