Cale stretched one arm over his head, then allowed it to drop back down as he strolled through the line of tents that made up Puddlemere United's quadrant of the camping grounds.
Roger stayed close beside him, still enthralled by the toy Quidditch player and broom Alex had bought him earlier. Their uncles had excused themselves earlier, leaving the nine year old in Cale's care.
Not that he minded much. He hardly ever got to see his siblings.
"Where to next?" Cale asked, glancing down at the boy.
"Let's see the other team's camp!" the younger boy enthused.
"All right." Cale still hadn't quite gotten used to the American accent the other boy had picked up, but he imagined that it would seem more natural the longer he was around him.
---
Meanwhile, James was shooting through the air, dodging some of the taller flagpoles that enthusiastic fans had set up, and ignoring that he'd just abandoned his siblings after no more than half an hour since his father had given him his instructions.
He wasn't worried, though. Lils could take care of herself, he knew. And Albus? Well. He wasn't particularly out of sorts about anything happening to him. He'd handle it or James would laugh at him.
"Keeping up?" James called over the wind, smirking as he put on another burst of speed, still mindful enough to scan the ground for his prize.