Alex heard the rustle lower in the tree before he saw who was making it, and he sighed, wondering which annoying cousin was coming to pester him about why he wasn't playing. Or to tell him how great the game was.
He stuck one finger into the book, looking over curiously at the man who knew his name. He hadn't met him before. "That's me," he said with a nod, tucking the flap of the bookjacket in to mark his place before closing it. "And no. I don't mind. I don't play because I don't like it, even though I fly, and I know. Quidditch is the best thing since Chocolate Frogs. I'd rather have the frog, thanks."
He gave the man another interested look. "So. Not to be rude, but who're you?"