They make it outside the charity, into the dark night and cool air when a group of five people waylay them.
Harry fades off into the background with Credence, which has become habit by now. It takes a while of polite niceties and some business gibberish but Harry realises that they're really not going to shake these people off despite how pointed Tom is being – not quite a blatant 'get lost' but enough that these people clinging to them is intentionally rude.
"We were just about to get dinner, would you like to join us?" Harry cuts in.
The boys turn on Harry in outrage.
"Let's just wait until the food comes and then run off on them, they won't be able to follow," Harry tells them in Parseltongue.
One of the women jovially agrees and leads them to the fanciest restaurant Harry has ever seen. The entire top floor has massive floor to ceiling windows but only has seven tables total with muffling and blurring wards between them. There isn't even a menu, and certainly not prices, the chefs make the meals for you depending on what kind of base you ask for.
Of course Gellert orders for all of them but Harry doesn't mind getting stuck with 'chicken', it seems safe enough. The vampire waiter brings out three different wines and Gellert is irritated enough to say no to all but the last.
Even that is only because Harry leans over and hisses, "You can't even drink wine, just say yes, the waiter looks like he's about to cry."
"Oh my, is that Parseltongue?" one of the men says. "I believe you said something before as well."
The conversation turns towards that for a time as they wait around for the food, sipping the drinks they ordered, and Harry just knows it's going to take like an hour to get the food because the fancier it is the longer you wait. Maybe this plan wasn't the best.
"-like an ethical super!" one woman is saying dismissively. "It's ridiculous to stifle yourself when everyone else has more breadth."
"Some do well," Albus allows blandly, eyes glazed over and staring off into the distance.
"Oh, but I guess it's mostly renewables and renewables are all the in thing these days regardless," another man says.
"Exactly!" cries the woman. "I mean unless the rules change for everyone, don't limit yourself."
"Do you think the market will be flooded by renewables though?" the first man asks Gellert eagerly.
"I'm sure they have enough brain cells between them to do the market research and stagger it well," Gellert says like a sigh, doing some napkin origami under the table to entertain himself.
"I think it would be good for them to flood actually," a second woman chimes in. "I don't want to say synergy but, hm, positive externalities means no one will want to miss out."
Harry is nearly passing out with how hungry and bored he is. Credence has literally fallen asleep on Harry's lap, half hidden under the pure white tablecloth that's probably made of some fantastically pricy material because whatever animal provides it is endangered. Death has sunken into the bottom of Harry's pocket, wrapped around its new rock, and is making quiet little snoring noises.
The other tables are blurred so Harry can't entertain himself with them and the gorgeous windows don't overlook London, they show off blank white rooms with art pieces in them.
Harry is about ready to cause a distraction so he can make a run for it with his Dark Lords and get some fish and chips. He side-eyes Albus and wonders if he's a fast runner. Actually, why doesn't Albus just drop the glamour, flash some Dark Lord monologuing and then they can all leave in the chaos?
The waiter comes back with the plates before Harry needs to take desperate measures. He nudges Credence awake and smoothes the boy's hair down when he pops up with a messy head. Harry leans back for the waiter to set his plate down and stares at the…chicken mush?
Wow, is Harry actually missing the Dursley's leftovers right now?
One of the other tables stands up and starts moving out while still chatting, passing close enough that the filter into this table's warding. Harry glances over and his eyes lock onto a beautiful woman, Indian with gorgeous eyes, carefully pressed ringlets in her hair and a blazing red wrap with gold detailing around her slim shoulders. Harry's head turns, following her across the room.
And then someone's foot slams into his shin.
"Ah, shit!" Harry shouts, yanking his leg up and clutching at the aching limb. "Who kicked me?!"
Albus casts a disapproving gaze at Gellert. The blond raises an eyebrow back, judging. Tom looks away and Credence sinks down into his chair.
"What the hell," Harry complains, rubbing his leg. "Violence is not the answer."
"Oh!" Gellert cries in shock, looking at his wrist, which does not have a watch. "I'm so sorry - Tom we're late for that thing!"
"Oh, the thing!" Tom agrees, pushing back his chair and standing. "Albus, do you remember?"
"Yes, yes, of course!" Albus says quickly, also standing. "How silly of me to forget. We must be off – no, don't get up, I'm terribly sorry to run off on you but please, the food is here, do enjoy it for us."
Harry pulls Credence up with him and they all back away swiftly until they're out of sight and then sprint down the stairs and burst out into the street and the cool night air.
"I'm so hungry," Gellert whines.
"Let's get Thai," Albus suggests with a stretch. "Ugh, those chairs were uncomfortable."
"I feel like I just lost that fight but I really don't care," Tom groans.
"Let's never do that again," Credence complains.
Harry is frowning. "No, really, who kicked me?"
(And why did that woman seem so familiar?)