"Who is your family that I might want an autograph?" Remus asked, genuinely confused for a moment before realizing that quidditch mattered to people who weren't him and, if she was a player, that was what she was likely used to from strangers. Who knew who her family was that they might expect it. "Never mind, it doesn't matter. I probably don't know who they are anyway."
Putting the paper and journal back with the others, he put his hands in the pockets of his jeans and took a moment to think about the best course of action. Not having the right frame of reference to know what se might consider odd enough to stop and consider -- although, honestly, his first impression was that she simply didn't pay enough attention to what was around her to notice -- he wasn't sure pure fact was going to be very persuasive. She certainly didn't seem as paranoid and curious as any of the rest, who all came from older generations.
"How about this, as you're in such a hurry? I'll accompany you to the gate and escort you to the stadium. If you're right, I'll leave you with your team and never bother you again. If I'm right, I can escort you back here, where we know it's relatively safe. We haven't had time enough to investigate the status of any of the stadiums yet to see if they've been reclaimed by muggles. I wouldn't feel right about letting you go off on your own into the unknown without backup."