Adrenaline pounded in Ford's ears, and Professor Manteia's voice barely made it into his brain over the din. Somewhere in Ford's mind, he thought that calling in the Ministry of Magic was a tad overzealous, but the thought was trampled by his fight or flight instincts. It was as if a decade of stoicism was crashing down upon Ford in one five minute swoop: rage, fear, hatred, anger, fury, love, confusion, depression, and many others exploded into his mind. Tears welled on Ford's face, but he continued on. On some sophisticated level, Ford was worried about his emotional well-being. Why was he feeling this? What was going on? But the instincts of the great apes had taken over, and Ford continued to evade his Head of House. There was no chance in any Hell conceived by mankind that he would be able to walk proudly amongst his fellow Slytherins, but he forged ahead anyway.
Ford reached the edge of the forest. He didn't leave out to the openness of the lawn, but stayed within the forest, following it's edge to the lake. He knew that his Head of House would be very disappointed in him, but Ford had never quite established a liking to him on any firm basis, just a far-off respect, so this fact did not bother him as it might have.