The next time Harry is called in for a test by the Unspeakable, it's a good few months later. After another round of basic scans, Harry wanders around the Department of Mysteries until he finds the two boys huddled with a group of Unspeakables, watching a small island float in the middle of the room.

"Boys, anything important happening?" Harry asks.

Gellert pops his head up. "Not now, but they're going to put a put a vacuum seal over it and see if the ward can withstand the environment of outer space."

"Come have lunch at the cafeteria first, then you can come back," Harry offers.

Harry is sitting at a café table near the fake window, currently glamoured to show rolling green hills and long swaying grass. There's a butterbeer in hand that he's sipping on and he's contemplating how he should break it to the boys that he's finally going to enrol them into a muggle primary school now that Tom is nine years old as well.

They don't actually need to learn anything, Harry would just like to ease them into socialisation with peers -for longer than the standard park visit hour- for when they inevitably go to Hogwarts.

Actually, do the boys even need to go to Hogwarts? Harry's Unspeakable seems to be throwing minions at them as tutors. Maybe Harry will ask. Hogwarts was his home before but even Harry can admit that it wasn't the best place. Not safe, not helpful - certainly can't withstand both boys.

"Oh, thanks," Harry says with a smile when the staff takes away the two empty glasses from Gellert and Tom.

Harry is looking back at the fake window when someone moves past him and stops across the table. Harry looks up and finds a well-dressed man in a white shirt, tucked into grey pinstripe slacks and a matching vest.

The man smiles at Harry, crossing his arms just to show that he doesn't have a wand, a casual slant to his stance but with his back straight. He has a neatly trimmed beard and slicked back hair the colour of rust.

No one seems to notice the resident Dark Lord and Harry is pretty sure that if he makes a scene, no one will believe him.

"Is this seat taken?" Albus Dumbledore asks.

"Go ahead," Harry murmurs.

Albus sits down and casts a privacy ward, wandlessly and wordlessly. The world outside turns blurred and silent.

"Can I get you a drink?" Harry offers.

"No, nothing for me," Albus replies. "I do apologise for this but I'm only here for a quick chat." He smiles wistfully, the beginnings of laugh lines creasing the corners of his eyes. "It always seems like there's never enough time."

"Why not enjoy the restful moments where you can then?" Harry says. "How about I order you a butterbeer, and until it arrives, you do nothing but sit with me and enjoy the atmosphere."

Albus pauses, eyes searching Harry's face. "Yes. Yes, I think I would like that very much, Mr. Corvidae. Or do you prefer Potter?"

"Harry, please."

"Then call me Albus," the Dark Lord insists with a smile.

Harry waves over the staff walking by, who ducks into the ward with a smile. Albus does settle himself into the creaky wooden chair that shuffles around to better take his weight, letting his eyes wander over the patrons around them, glancing curiously at the moving paintings of rolling hills or stormy seas.

Harry slowly lets the tension seep out of him but keeps one hand under the table, in his pocket. The elder wand is there, even though it shouldn't be. Harry hopes Gellert doesn't worry at having his wand taken so suddenly.

The drink arrives soon enough and Harry obligingly waits for Albus to savour his first few sips.

Albus sets his bottle on the table but keeps his hands cradled around it. "I do wish I had more time."

"Maybe another day," Harry suggests. "But go on, let's get business out of the way first."

"Well, I had planned this differently in my head," Albus admits wryly. "Nothing against you in particular, Harry, but I came here wanting to discuss your companions rather than yourself."

"None taken," Harry replies cheerfully. "In fact, I'm quite glad for it. Would you like the Unspeakable's floo number, or perhaps I could interest you in the name of my shadow friend? If you call him aloud three times, he will emerge from the darkness and devour your dreams."

"While both have certainly caught my eye," Albus begins. "I was referring to your…adopted children."

"Oh," Harry says. "No, that's not up for discussion."

"Are you aware of the...business ventures they have been conducting?"

Harry sips his drink.

Albus sighs. "I don't want to hurt them, I just want to let them know their options and whatever they decide, I will accept. They're incredibly intelligent and powerful, their potential is being wasted. They need a mentor."

"No," Harry says simply.

Albus looks at him from across their small table. "Please don't take this the wrong way, but how will you stop me?"

Harry just shrugs. "Do you want me to threaten you? Is that how you play this game?"

"Not at all," Albus murmurs.

"Your recruitment isn't going to work," Harry explains. "Because they want more, they always do, but they want to take it with their own power. Borrowed strength is an insult to them." Harry leans forward. "Tell me, why is a Dark Lord headhunting children for his army?"

"Because they have far more potential than anyone else I've looked into," Albus admits frankly. "A lot of it has to do with you and your future knowledge, your...friends. But they can grow into something great."

"They already are great," Harry states. "That's the problem; they are too great and too powerful and I'm doing my damnedest to make sure they don't grow up and take your job position. You're welcome for that, by the way. Don't ruin my hard work."

Albus can't help but smile. "I admire how open you are about this."

"I see no reason to lie," Harry admits. "You've clearly looked into my history, probably had some minions watch us for a while now." Harry sits back and raises his bottle. "But don't forget it goes both ways, Albus, so how about you finish your drink and head back to your Order of the Phoenix before I cause a scene."

Albus's jaw clenches for a moment because the Order is a carefully grown inner circle of the best and brightest that Albus mentored personally, all of them to be placed in important positions all over the world and that can't be compromised.

Albus' expression smoothes out. He clinks his bottle against Harry's and they both finish off the small bit of butterbeer left over.

Albus sets the empty bottle down and stands. "Thank you for your time, Harry. Perhaps we can meet again under more pleasant circumstances."

"You're buying the drinks next time," Harry says with a smile and hopes to Merlin he never sees this version of Dumbledore again.