"So we have three options," Albus grumbles, punctuated by a heavy sigh, as if the hardships of this plan have become too much for him. "Either we go back to my annexe, to a house where knocking hasn't been invented yet, and where we therefore are to expect constant interruptions. Or we do it among old furniture and dust. Or we could just walk through that door, say hello nicely and try to explain to Dad that we'd like to be alone to have some fun together." He smiles sardonically.