Lestrange was off down the hall again, and Ford walked after him. He had a lot of energy, despite the late hour, but maybe that came with the territory for a professional seeker. As he thought this another thing drifted to mind: Dorian Fisk in a dark theater making cryptic comments about playing seeker while a contortionist performed on stage. His mouth went a little dry, and he pushed the thought away. He could not start picturing contortionists any time he had a passing thought about Quidditch. Not that he thought about Quidditch all that often, but still — it was too distracting.

"I think the furniture will start moving on its own," he speculated. "They can do that with wires, sometimes. Or magnets, but probably not in a house this size." If they were going to go big for the witching hour, it would be really big, he thought. Something that would have woken them up, had they decided to go to sleep. "Maybe break something with some glass. That's dramatic." Dramatic, but also dangerous and probably expensive to clean up and replace, so maybe not.