Had he really just said he'd done the illusion charm on the ceiling in the attic himself? Or perhaps not, but at least he'd tinkered with it. Ford's mind had latched on to the contraption that Dodonus was building for his show quite readily, but he'd never had a mind for practical magic, and he tended to botch even uncomplicated spells if he didn't have a need to use them frequently enough. The idea that Dodonus might be just as adept at inventing magically as he was with Muggle mechanics was impressive. But then, maybe Ford would have been better at his hobbies if he didn't have to work for a living, too. Dodonus must have been born rich, because it wasn't as though the money he made from tricking Muggles in London three or four times a week was paying for a house like this.

"Are you an inventor?" he asked, as they passed a door that seemed to be growling. Ford edged around it, although realistically he knew it wasn't the door that was making that noise, but something behind it. What it was, however, was anyone's guess — he couldn't even tell if it was an animal or some sort of machine, and given the type of thing Dodonus had been building for for his show it wasn't out of the question. Ford rather hoped he was an inventor, come to think of it. That would make whatever was lurking in all of these rooms much less unsettling.

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