He'd just taken a bookend to the back of his head, and Lestrange was still focused on getting hold of the wire. Ford shook his head, but he couldn't help but chuckle, too. "Great," he said, still leaning on the hutch just in case, although it seemed to have settled for the moment. "Now let go of it and get up before something worse happens to you, hm?"

Not that there was much that might happen, now — Ford wasn't planning on letting the hutch topple over on him, and he was already standing here so it wasn't as though it was going to surprise him and fall before he could get to it. And the bookend was already gone, so there wasn't anything else left to slide off the surface of it.

"Are you going to have a big lump on your head, do you think?" he asked, lightly teasing. "I'll bet there's ice in the kitchen." Presumably there would have to be, if they kept any food in there at all, and with the help of magic they wouldn't have any trouble breaking off a bit to help with Lestrange's head. Of course, if they were going to be using magic there were probably better things to do for a lump on the back of the head than just ice, but Ford hadn't learned anything beyond the most basic healing magic, so he wasn't exactly confident in his ability to administer anything. And if Lestrange actually had a head injury, it probably wasn't a great idea for him to try it on himself.