"Hello, young master. I'm Aldridge Brown, your personal butler from now on," the man announced, bowing slightly. "This is Mr. Jason Mir, your personal attendant. If you have any needs or orders, we're at your service, anytime, anywhere."
Aldridge was careful and precise. His slicked-back hair rivaled Malfoy's, his spotless coat hung without a wrinkle, and his polished gestures screamed professionalism. He moved like a house-elf trained at a pure-blood manor, every step measured.
Jason, trailing behind, was less composed. His posture was stiff, his face tight with unease. He clearly wasn't thrilled to be stuck with Sean, his eyes darting as if he'd rather be anywhere else.
Sean glanced at them, nodding calmly. He didn't taunt Jason, despite their history. Treating him like a stranger, Sean turned to Aldridge. "How do we get to Beauxbatons?"
"Master, we must first visit the Ministry of Magic," Aldridge replied smoothly. "Please follow me."
Noticing they carried no bags, Sean raised an eyebrow. "What about my luggage?"
"Rest assured, Master," Aldridge said. "I have a satchel with an extension charm. Your belongings, including the gift, are safely inside."
Sean nodded. "Alright, let's go."
"As you command, Master," Aldridge said, leading the way.
They approached a battered red telephone booth in a run-down, quiet corner of the Muggle world. The surrounding buildings sagged, their windows boarded or cracked. A closed bar was the only sign of life, its faded sign creaking. Wild graffiti splashed the walls, layers of clashing colors blurring into chaos. Beyond a nearby corner, a busy street hummed, a sharp contrast to the eerie stillness.
Aldridge opened the booth's door and stepped inside. "Master, please enter. It's a bit cramped, so bear with it for a moment."
Sean nodded, squeezing in with Jason. Their smaller, youthful frames and Aldridge's lean build made it just manageable. If any of them had been bulkier, it would've been a tight fit.
Jason shut the door, standing as still as a scolded first-year. Aldridge gave him a nod, then lifted the phone and dialed 6-2-4-4-2. After a brief pause, a cold female voice echoed—not from the receiver, but filling the booth like a ghostly presence. "Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and purpose."
"Sean Bulstrode, Aldridge Brown, Jason Miller, here for Portkey arrangements to Beauxbatons' region," Aldridge said clearly.
"Thank you. Please take your badges and pin them to your clothing," the voice replied.
A clatter came from the coin return slot. Aldridge retrieved three silver badges, each engraved with their names and "Portkey to Beauxbatons' Region" in small print. They pinned them on, and the voice spoke again. "Guests, proceed to security and wand registration at the end of the main hall. Welcome to the Ministry of Magic."
The booth shuddered, sinking like an elevator into darkness. A grating metal screech accompanied the descent, making Sean wince. After about a minute, it stopped, revealing a grand hall. A peacock-blue ceiling shimmered with shifting golden symbols, and polished dark wood floors gleamed. Fireplaces lined the walls, spitting green flames as wizards stepped out or queued to leave.
"Master, those fireplaces are for Ministry staff or authorized personnel," Aldridge explained, guiding them forward. "As visitors, we use the guest entrance. It's a bit more hassle, but necessary."
Sean nodded, taking in the bustling chaos as Aldridge led them past the Magic Brothers Fountain, its golden figures glinting. They reached the security and wand registration desk, where the process was swift. The staff, spotting Sean's Bulstrode badge, softened their tone, their wands flicking with newfound efficiency.
Aldridge leaned in, whispering, "Master, the Bulstrode family donates generously to the Ministry each year. Unlike the Malfoys, who flaunt their influence, the Bulstrodes keep it quiet. Outsiders know little, but Ministry workers hear the truth. They respect the family's reach."
Sean gave a slight nod, unsurprised. Gideon's shadow stretched far, and he was starting to see how.
With checks complete, Aldridge guided them to a smaller hall lined with golden-grilled elevators. They entered a less crowded one, ascending from the eighth-floor atrium to the sixth-floor Department of Magical Transportation, then straight to the Portkey Office.
"Hello, Mr. Basil," Aldridge greeted the balding, middle-aged wizard behind the desk. "We're here to arrange a Portkey."
Basil's businesslike demeanor shifted when Aldridge presented a document bearing the Bulstrode crest. His eyes lit up. "From the Bulstrode family! Let's see what you need." Scanning the papers, he nodded. "Simple enough. I'll coordinate with Beauxbatons' region now. Wait at the Portkey collection area, and you'll be off once it's set."
Basil, all smiles, showed them the certificate and escorted them out, lingering at the door as they left. Sean glanced back, shaking his head inwardly. Privilege had its perks—wizards and Muggles alike chased it for a reason.
"Oh, Master, one more thing," Aldridge said, producing a parchment. "This is a special permit from the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, arranged by the Master. With it, you can use magic freely during the holidays, so long as you avoid dark spells or Unforgivable Curses."
Sean took the parchment, his mind racing. Gideon's plans were unfolding, and this permit was another piece of the puzzle.
Aldridge handed Sean a round black badge, its surface etched with a wand pattern. Below, Sean's name gleamed in tiny script. Jason received one too, passed to him by Aldridge with a curt nod.
"With this, I can use magic during the holidays?" Sean asked, turning the badge over.
Aldridge nodded. "Yes, young master. This badge marks your magical trace as special. When you cast spells, the Ministry of Magic's systems will block your magical signature. Unless they inspect your wand directly, they won't know what magic you've used."
Sean studied Aldridge, catching a subtle glint in his eyes. The butler's words seemed to suggest something deeper—perhaps a nudge to use the badge cleverly. Grinning, Sean sidestepped the hint. "This badge isn't easy to get, is it?"
"Of course not," Aldridge replied, his smile polished as ever. "Think of it as a privilege, young master. The Ministry strictly forbids underage wizards from using wands during holidays—it's a firm rule. But pure-blood and magical families, raised in enchanted homes, find life without magic a hassle. Their influence in the wizarding world creates loopholes. The Ministry overlooks minor spells cast at home or in Muggle-free areas, treating them as normal for these families. Over time, these loopholes birthed special permits like this badge."
Sean twirled the badge, his grin widening. "So, it's less a permit and more a fancy privilege."
Aldridge's eyes twinkled. "As expected of the young master, praised often by Master Gideon. You've nailed the badge's true nature. I've learned something today."
Jason shot Aldridge a confused glance, his brow furrowing. Is he sucking up already? his expression seemed to say.
Sean caught Jason's look and stifled a chuckle. He'd never cared for flatterers, but when the flattery was aimed at him, it wasn't half bad. It sparked a warm glow of satisfaction, like sinking into a charmed armchair.
A young Ministry worker hurried over, carrying a tray with a rusty fork—a Portkey. Basil bustled up, all smiles. "Please place your hands on the fork. It's small, so a finger will do."
Aldridge and Jason touched their fingers to the fork, and Sean pressed his index finger to its tarnished tip, the metal cool under his skin.
Basil beamed. "Ready? Three… two… one!"
A sharp tug yanked Sean's stomach, like a hook snagging his core. His feet left the ground, his finger glued to the fork as his body hurtled forward, the world blurring into a dizzying spin. It felt like a rogue Bludger had slammed him mid-Quidditch match. When his feet hit solid ground, his knees buckled, nearly sending him sprawling.
Aldridge's hand shot out, steadying Sean's arm with practiced ease. Sean caught his breath, regaining his balance quickly, the nausea fading.
Jason wasn't so lucky. Aldridge made no move to help him. Jason hit the ground hard, face-first, and scrambled up, red-faced and disheveled, brushing dirt from his robes.
"Eleven and eight, from the Ministry of Magic," a voice called in a foreign tongue.
Sean stood in a spacious hall, its high ceilings adorned with pale blue tapestries. Nearby walls bore elegant script in the local language, confirming he'd arrived at the Ministry in Beauxbatons' region. The air felt lighter, tinged with a floral scent, unlike the Ministry of Magic's smoky bustle.
"Master, please take these," Aldridge said, offering two silver, bean-shaped objects. Their surfaces shimmered with tiny runes in various wizarding languages—English, the local tongue, and others Sean couldn't name, their scripts curling like ancient charms.
"Are these magical items for language barriers?" Sean asked, eyeing them.
"As sharp as ever, young master," Aldridge said. "These are Translation Beans, rare and complex to craft. The Bulstrode family owns only seven pairs. Master Gideon provided this set for your Beauxbatons visit."
Sean picked up one bean. "If I use these, what about you two?"
"Thank you for your concern, Master," Aldridge replied. "I trained in languages as a butler, so the local tongue is no issue. As for Jason, his mother hails from this region, so…"
"I speak the language," Jason muttered in the local tongue, his tone clipped.
Sean glanced between them, a wry smile tugging at his lips. Gideon had planned everything, down to the smallest detail. It was almost too perfect, making Sean wonder what strings were attached. The thought felt oddly unsettling, like a charm cast with hidden intent.
"How do I use them?" Sean asked.
"Place one in your ear—either will do—and the other under your tongue," Aldridge explained. He paused, then added, "They've been thoroughly cleaned, young master, free of dust or anything unpleasant. You can use them safely."
Sean waved off the concern. "Aldridge, I'm not that fussy. No need to tiptoe around me."
"You're easygoing and open-minded, Master," Aldridge said smoothly. "I'll keep that in mind."
Sean slipped one bean into his right ear, its cool metal settling snugly. The second went under his tongue, its smooth surface pressing lightly. As he closed his mouth, a chilly tingle spread from his ear and mouth, merging into a cool wave that enveloped his head. It was like sipping iced Pumpkin Juice on a hot day, refreshing and sharp.
When he opened his mouth and touched his ear, the beans were gone, dissolved into magic. The hall's chatter, once a jumble of foreign sounds, now rang clear as English. He understood every word, as if he'd spoken the language all his life.
Clearing his throat, Sean tested it, speaking fluently in the local tongue. "This is pretty cool."
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