It had not even occurred to Ford that he ought to be at all concerned about discovering Billy Darrow alone in the observatory of this empty London house. He'd assumed that he, like Ford, had some valid reason to be there. The fact that the owner of the house had invited Ford to come look for phantom ashwinders without even having been there to greet him when he arrived meant he was clearly quite a trusting gentleman, when it came to allowing strangers access to his house, so it didn't seem at all strange that someone else might be on the premises doing something. When he saw Darrow raise his wand at him, though, Ford's eyes widened in surprise and his heart stopped. Why the hell was Darrow pointing a wand at him?

A spell shot past him, and Ford didn't consciously realize that it hadn't been intended for him. He assumed Darrow had missed, and would probably try again. He didn't have the sort of reflexes that would allow him to get his own wand out to defend himself before Darrow could kill him, so instead he dropped to his knees and ducked behind the nearest cabinet. He wasn't sure if this cabinet was going to protect him from — whatever the fuck was going on — but at least it meant that Darrow didn't have a clear line of sight to him. Maybe he'd miss again. Or maybe he wouldn't, and Ford would just die. Noble was going to have a time of that — Ford being dead, and killed by one of his friends. Lots of mixed feelings about that one, he'd imagine.