"So now they all know where to find me if they decide I deserve a slap up the head? Lovely." He halted in the middle of setting the picture down, and gave it another, closer inspection. "Fleetwood?" 'A lot to do with Quidditch' indeed, if in an indirect way. That was rather more impressive than he had been expecting. But he laid him aside and moved on to Campbell, whom he certainly recognized.
"Well. Mum has always had excellent taste." Two pretty faces, lucky him. "Fergus would have done, everything seems to. Not exactly a public figure. How did you get him to -" Actually, he didn't know if he wanted to hear the how. But it was very intriguing. He sat back, lifting his bowl into his hands, and stuck his nose up in the air. "You're forgiven," he said, with mock haughtiness. "I suppose."