"My mother took them to visit some relatives who are camped, hm, somewhere in the country," he said, hand waving the specifics of location. He knew he could find them, but who knew exactly where the Romani camped? It certainly wasn't a dot on the map. "Apparently we have blood ties to some of the Romani in the area, I had no idea."
He headed directly to the bar. "Something to drink?" He offered. He had, like anyone who occasionally hosted Quidditch players, quite the array of choices back behind it, warded against the kids of course.