Ford seemed to be having a string of good luck lately: he had managed not to accidentally kill Miss Lestrange the day before with his misfired spell, he had not yet been eaten by a lion, and now his wand obediently nudged his fingertips. Ford let out a sigh of relief, which turned into a huff of breath as he tried to get the lion's mane away from his mouth (with very little success).

With a muttered spell he dispersed the chains, which slithered back into the air from whence they'd been conjured. This did absolutely nothing to improve Ford's mobility, since he still had a lion crouched over him — a lion which was now undetained and free to do as it pleased. Ford pulled his head back as far as he could to try and see the lion's face — better to keep an eye on its teeth, and be ready with a stunning spell — and leveled a suspicious look at it.

It seemed neither particularly inclined to run away, nor to eat him. A well-trained lion who didn't hold grudges about being tied up in chains, or a person?

"Can you, uhm, understand me?" he asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure if even the ones who were people could still understand human speech, but it was this or try and order the lion to sit, Ford figured.

---