Jackson Frost

What do you wanna be when you grow up? FIND OUT WHAT YOU WILL BE NOW

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Jackson had decided that one of the easiest ways to make money was to try and tell someone their future. One of the most common questions that people are asked when they’re growing up is exactly what they want to be when they grow up. Something told Jackson he’d probably make a fortune with this idea and that he definitely needed to go make sure that everyone knew exactly what career they had to look forward to in their futures.

 

Was Jackson a seer?

 

By all means no. Jackson was not a seer nor did he ever proclaim himself to be, and he’d probably have to put a small disclaimer in the sign that he created to tell everyone of his customers that he most definitely was not a seer and he couldn’t guarantee that any of this would ever come true. Though, he would put that in such small print on the sign that everyone would probably ignore it.

 

After the finalization of the sign, Jackson grabbed one of the tables that he found just lying around and a chair and pulled them out to the Crystal Fountain Park as he sat up his own little booth.

 

The sign read:

 

 

 



JACKSON KNOWS BEST

come find out your future career!

5 sickles per person

 

 

“HAVE YOU EVER BEEN ASKED THE QUESTION: WHAT DO WANT TO BE WHEN YOU GROW UP? WELL, MARRA, NOW IS THE TIME TO FIND OUT. I WILL TELL YOU YOUR FUTURE CAREER FOR JUST FIVE. COUNT THEM FIVE SICKLES, AND YOU CAN THANK ME LATER!”


Edited by Jackson Frost

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Brooklyn knew that when she grew up, she was going to be either a famous actress or a dog trainer, but hopefully both, and maybe a hit witch. For years, she thought she'd be a puppy when she was older, but finally she realized the implausibility of this idea: the most she'd become would be an animagus puppy. However, she was vaguely curious what this random, loud (thought Brooklyn, known for screaming) boy had to say about her life.

 

Mostly, she wanted to judge him.

 

"Fine," Brooklyn spoke, tossing Jackson the sickles without counting how many. She wasn't necessarily going to believe him, but she'd been on a roll with supporting the co-businesses of her fellow eleven-year-olds. There were about a thousand questions that clawed their ways up her throat regarding why exactly she ought to trust him, but sometimes she figured it was better to say less. "Tell me what I'm going to be, then."

 

She waited.

 

"And why did you say marra?" Brooklyn prompted, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. "Also, stop screaming."

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“Obviously you’ve never been to Sunderland,” he rolled his eyes and looked down at the sickles that Brooklyn had tossed onto the table that he had dragged out to the Crystal Fountain Park. Not that he was exactly proud to be from Sunderland, because even he had to acknowledge out of all the accents in England.

 

“It’s what we use in place of mate up there,” he acknowledged the question before turning to make sure that there were exactly five sickles on his table, and he was surprised that there was definitely more than five of them. That would definitely probably get her a much better job than she would’ve gotten if she had given him only five sickles.

 

“Right. So, in your future I see you like being a janitor for some rich school in Washington, D.C. You’re gonna be the best janitor that they’ve ever had and you’ll even get a statue because of how good you’ll be at cleaning. You better get that passport and that work visa while you still can. GOOD LUCK!”

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"Well no, I haven't," Brooklyn confessed. "Okay, I guess it just sounded weird when you said it," she clarified. "I'm sure it's a cool thing to say, though." Brooklyn didn't mean it she thought the accent was weird. 

 

Her janitor-bound fortune was then promptly revealed.

 

"Are you a muggle-born?" Brooklyn wondered aloud. The wrinkle in her forehead got so deep it nearly burned off when he continued to explain her 'future career'.

 

She hadn't heard the term "janitor" much, admittedly, although she did try to discover certain aspects of muggle culture so she didn't seem completely naive, and when the boy said the occupation had to do with cleaning, it vaguely clicked. "That's the guy or girl who does muggle cleaning, right? Like a caretaker at Hogwarts? Whatever, I'd just use my wand." Brooklyn shrugged. "I wouldn't need any of that, but I'll take the statue. So, clearly you're wrong."

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This was it, the day he decided he would try to talk to someone. Alvis was far to busy listening to what the adults had to say, busy taking notes as he hung on every detail and word, often having to get more information from text books. How ever, you cloud only get so much from books and even the adults wanted a break now and then, so he had to take a chance and actually try to be normal for once.

 

Noticing a boy and girl talking over the way, Alvis looked at the sign that the boy had made and thought this at least would give him a chance at some kind of equal footing, being muggle born he didn't know much other then the basics.

 

''Howdy doodly do!? Who's Marra, What's a Sickle and I'm Alvis.'' He stood there with no nerves, in his new but rather haphazardly dressed clothes and gave a wink.  

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Muggleborn?

 

Oh if it were only that simple, but unfortunately the blood that was running through his veins were pure enough for him to be considered a pureblood. Also, unfortunately that made it obvious that his father had also went to Hogwarts. There were just some things that he didn’t want to divulge.

 

“Oi, do I look like a muggleborn?” he rolled his eyes towards Brooklyn, “I mean, does my sign not read sickles and not quid or pounds? You need to use your common sense to figure these things out. I mean, look, if I was a muggleborn, I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have put five sickles as the price as my sign.”

 

Sighing, he turned towards the question of being a janitor and using her wand for the clean up. He scoffed, “Forgetting the statute of secrecy, aren’t you? And I’m the one who’s a muggleborn, Merlin.”

 

During the heated (probably less than it’d seem) discussion, another person had walked up to them and asked some questions that definitely alerted him to the fact that the boy was a muggleborn. He turned back towards Brooklyn with a look in his eye as a way to try to get her cooperation.

 

He reached into his pocket and picked out a galleon he had found stole in his father’s room.  He showed it to the presumed muggleborn, “This, my good sir, is a sickle. It’s not worth much though.”

 

Hoping he’d have seen a nod from Brooklyn he’d go on with his little spiel, “If you have any though, I do collect them. As for your other question, Alvis, marra, it’s slang for mate where I’m from.”

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Mati had started taking note of all the students that were charging money for things. These would be the students she would hassle to get her medical supplies restocked, she needed sponsors if she was going to be kept in burn paste and bandage for a whole year.

 

"I haven't got any silver on me, but next time you need help I'll make myself available, how's about that?" She wasn't all that committed to what the kid would say about her, she just wanted to get to know him a bit better.

 

"I'm Mati, by the way," she smiled, and then turned to wave at each of the other kids present, too.

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Alvis looked at the gold hubcap the boy pulled out to show him, this reminded him of the money the Ministry official showed him the day he found out he was a wizard. But being muggle born he didn't have any, although he did have a bag of gum balls and a very large chocolate bar in his rucksack.

 

However just before he could say a word another girl  came over and began talking about having no silver! But the boy had clearly said gold and was holding out a gold hubcap. ''Silver?! He doesn't want silver me girl, he just told me he wants gold! I don't have any wizard money but I do have these, '' he pulled out the bag of gum balls and the very large block of purple wrapped chocolate that sparkled in the sunlight.

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