He was under attack. The foot-freezing spell he'd been thinking of likely wouldn't be any good, since by the time he'd recalled the incantation the lion already had its front two paws in the air hurtling towards Ford's chest.

"Incarcerous," he managed, wand trembling in his hand as he cast. Ford had never faced down a pouncing lion before, and no one had ever accused him of being a Gryffindor. He hadn't been trained for this sort of thing. They should have sent an actual Beast Division employee to hunt down lions. Ford had no hope of subduing a creature like this; he'd just have to hope the lion left enough of him intact that a healer could stitch him back together at some point.

Fortunately, it seemed his spell had fired true and was working as intended. Unfortunately, by the time it hit the lion he was too close to Ford for the spell to distinguish between the two bodies. Rather than containing the beast, the chains wrapped around both of them, binding the pair together and sending them both tumbling towards the ground.

Ford estimated that this decreased his odds of surviving intact enough for the healers to salvage the situation. The fact that his wand fell from his hand in the confusion even more so. Of all the ways he'd thought he might die, being mauled by a lion had never made the list.

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