Aldrich presented him with a round, black badge. A silver wand was etched into its surface, and just below it, in elegant script, was the name Sean Bulstrode.
He handed a similar one to Jensen.
"And with this, I can perform magic during the holidays?" Sean asked, turning the cool, heavy badge over in his fingers.
"Precisely, Young Master," Aldrich confirmed with a nod. "This badge interacts with the Trace upon your person, marking it as a special case. When you cast a spell, the Ministry's monitoring charms will automatically shield your magical signature. Unless they were to physically inspect your wand, they would have no record of the magic you've used."
Sean shot a quick glance at his butler. The way Aldrich had phrased that last part felt... suggestive. A smirk touched Sean's lips, but he let it pass, changing the subject instead. "Aldrich, I imagine a permit like this isn't exactly easy to come by."
"Of course not," Aldrich replied, his smile remaining perfectly standard. "You might think of it less as a permit and more as a privilege, Young Master. The Ministry has an ironclad rule against underage wizards using magic outside of school. However," he continued, his tone becoming that of a seasoned lecturer, "an unspoken exception has long existed for those from established pure-blood or magical families. The very environment they are raised in is saturated with magic; to forbid them its use in daily life would be impractical. Coupled with the influence these families wield within the magical world, a certain... leniency is afforded. The Ministry tends to turn a blind eye when the children of these families perform minor spells at home or in magically secluded areas."
"And from that loophole," Aldrich concluded smoothly, "the concept of this 'special permit' was born."
Sean looked down at the badge in his hand and chuckled softly. "So it's not a permit at all. It's just a tangible symbol of privilege."
"The Young Master has a gift for grasping the essence of a matter," Aldrich said, his expression one of polite admiration. "It is just as the Master so often praises. I have learned something from your insight."
From the side, Jensen stared at Aldrich, a flicker of bewilderment crossing his face. Was he already flattering him?
Sean regarded his butler with newfound amusement. He'd always despised sycophants, but he had to admit being the object of such refined flattery was surprisingly pleasant. It was a rather nice feeling.
Their wait was short. A young Ministry employee soon approached, carrying a silver tray upon which rested a rusty old fork. The ever-enthusiastic Basil hurried over as well. "If you would all please place a hand on the fork," he said, beaming. "It is quite small, so a single finger will suffice."
Aldrich and Jensen complied, pressing their fingers to the metal. Sean extended his own index finger, touching it to the grimy, rusted tine.
"Excellent!" Basil chirped. "Now, prepare yourselves. Three... two... one!"
The world vanished. An invisible hook seemed to sink into his navel, yanking him forward with bone-jarring force. Sean's feet left the floor as he was pulled through a swirling vortex of colour and sound, his finger feeling as though it were permanently fused to the rusty fork. Just as abruptly as it began, the spinning stopped. His feet slammed back onto solid ground, his knees buckled, and he nearly pitched forward onto the floor.
A firm hand caught his arm just in time. Aldrich was there, steadying him effortlessly. Sean took a moment to regain his balance, the world slowly snapping back into focus.
Jensen, however, was not so lucky. Aldrich made no move to help him, and the other boy landed in an ungraceful heap, stumbling to his feet a moment later with a sheepish expression.
"Eleven-oh-eight, arrival from the British Ministry of Magic," a voice announced in crisp French.
Sean looked around. They were in another grand hall, though the architecture was distinctly different, more ornate. The lettering on the signs and decrees posted on the walls was all in French. They had arrived.
"Young Master, if you would please place this in your ear," Aldrich said, offering his open palm.
Resting on his white glove were two small, silver beans. Sean took one and examined it. Its surface was covered in a dense, microscopic filigree of characters from dozens of different languages—he could make out English, French, German, and Russian, but countless others were completely foreign to him.
"A magical solution to the language barrier?" Sean guessed.
"As perceptive as ever, Young Master. They are called Translation Beans," Aldrich explained. "An exceedingly complex and rare magical item. The Bulstrode family possesses only seven sets in total. Given your attendance at Beauxbatons, one set was allocated for your use."
Sean looked at the two beans, then back at his butler. "If I use these, what about you and Jensen?"
"Your consideration is appreciated, Young Master, but we have no need of them. My training as a personal butler included extensive language instruction; I am quite fluent in French. As for Jensen, his mother is French, so..."
"I know French," Jensen interjected, speaking the language perfectly.
Sean glanced from Jensen to Aldrich, a renewed sense of appreciation for his grandfather's thoroughness settling over him. Marcellus Bulstrode truly thought of everything, so much so that Sean almost felt like he was being treated as a genuine grandson. He pushed the strange thought away.
"How do they work?"
"Place one in either ear, and the other under your tongue," Aldrich instructed, before hesitating for a fraction of a second. "Of course, they have been magically sanitized. You may rest assured they are free of any dust or other undesirable substances."
Sean understood the unspoken reassurance. "Aldrich, I am not so delicate," he said, shaking his head slightly. "You needn't be so cautious in the future."
"Your magnanimity is noted, Young Master. My apologies."
Sean placed one of the beans into his right ear and popped the other into his mouth, tucking it under his tongue. The moment he closed his lips, a cool sensation spread from both points, rising to meet in the center of his head before suffusing his entire mind with a pleasant chill.
When he opened his mouth and checked his ear, both beans were gone. In their place, the indistinct chatter from the surrounding hall, which had been meaningless noise moments before, now resolved into perfectly understandable words, as clear as his native English.
He cleared his throat and spoke, the words flowing out in flawless, unaccented French.
"Heh. This thing is really quite interesting."
***********
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