Bringing the bottle meant his hand was going to be frozen stiff by the time they got back inside, because the gloves he had were too thin for this sort of weather, but he nodded all the same. They'd have all night by a fire to warm up, or magic to speed things along, so a little cold wasn't the end of the world. And he wasn't going to say no if Lestrange wanted to wander around in the dark drinking wine from an open bottle. That was a very particular kind of tone he was setting, and Ford didn't want to derail things. Especially not if Lestrange was still hoping to be scared.

"Is that a serious question?" Ford asked as he slipped through the front door. It was a large, heavy door; the sort not meant to open easily or often. Hopefully it didn't shut too heavily behind them and lock them out.

"Some Muggles think spirits are more attracted to water. So if you believed in all this and wanted to find one, I suppose that way," he said, gesturing vaguely in the direction of the water (or where he thought he remembered the ocean laying in relation to the town when they'd flooed in; he could have gotten turned around by now). "But if you're trying to avoid Muggles who believe those things, I guess we ought to head the opposite direction."

He paused, pulling his coat tighter around him. "I don't think there's anything to that theory about the water, by the way. At least, I've never met a ghost who's mentioned it."