Ford tossing his wand and putting his hands up caught Cash in a bind — he understood that this was concerning, but he'd hoped that the shock of the cold water would jostle him out of whatever was happening. But it had not worked — he was stuck in the water and it had already soaked his shoes and ankles. His toes were going numb. Ford still did not remember. And Ford was right, if anyone else remembered this, if this was real, they might talk — and Cash could not disgrace the Lestrange family.

He stood, simmering, for a beat — trying to figure out what the fuck he was supposed to do. People could talk. He took a step out of the lake, feeling resentful. "I haven't gone mad," Cash muttered, over his shoulder. Ford always acted like Cash was on the verge of going mad, and sure, there were valid reasons for that — but he wasn't going mad.

Something was just — going extremely wrong, here, and he did not know how to stop it.