Trade Mistakes

Osmund didn't like wandering around Amethyst Alley and always made a point to avoiding the popular shopping street since he had graduated. He only went there when he absolutely needed to and avoided it during the month of August to avoid the back to school shopping crowd. However, necessity brought him to Amethyst alley on that day and the usually grumpy wizard was even more so as the streets were swarming with young wizards and witches and their family. He just needed some of his clothes tailored. He'd do it himself but then all the mending would look sloppy and he needed it done in the first place so he'd look adequate while going to job interviews.

Monsieur Nightingale had fixed up all of which he needed mended and even gave him a break on the price, which made Osmund happy. It turned out to be cheaper than going and picking up new clothes at the second hand shop. The blonde haired man exited the shop, clutching a brown bag full of his clothes and pushing against the grain of the crowd to return home. He didn't have any extra spending money anyway so why tempt himself?

He was in a hurry and accidentally bumped into a young girl, knocking a book to the ground. Though the streets were busy with passing feet, Oz had the decency to duck and pick it up before it got trampled. The girl didn't even seem to notice it's absence, so Oz followed her until he caught up to her speed and tapped her on the shoulder. "You dropped this," he told her, handing the book out.

Autumn was quite pleased with herself. She had gotten nearly all of her supplies. She had also thought ahead and gotten her cauldron first so she could tuck most of the items inside of it.

The only things that didn't completely fit inside, no matter how many times she rearranged them, were her books. There were two of the pesky little things that would slide off the top of the stack at random times. The only thing harder than keeping the books on, was finding them if they fell off onto the busy street.

Autumn was walking as quickly as possible. She had to fight with being able to see and not being stepped on. She wasn't really surprised when someone bumped into her. She was tiny for her age: very thin and short. She stumbled a little bit, but regained her balance.

She felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around quickly, afraid that she was in danger. But looking up, she saw that it was just a man handing her one of the books that must've fallen off the stack. "My book!" Autumn replied. "Thank you!"

She set her cauldron down for a second to get her book. Her Potions textbook. "I'd probably need this," she said. "I'm Autumn, by the way."

She didn't know why she introduced herself. The man looked a lot like a scruffy teenager rather than someone she could know the name of or be friends with. But she didn't care that much. She just smiled up at him. And laughed when the second book fell on the ground next to her foot.

Osmund never really liked kids much. He didn't like them when he was that young and his distaste for youth decrease with each passing year. However, he figured since it was his fault that the young girl had dropped the book, he ought to return it to her. He expected her to accept it, maybe thank him for it, and for them both to be on their own way. The girl did most of what he expected, However, she took her time in putting the book away and then proceeded with introductions.

"Osmund," Oz replied, slowly, stiffly and with a hint of being a tad bit weirded out. He wasn't sure why she felt the need to get friendly with him and was even more surprised that he had answered with his own name.

Autumn had dropped another book out of her clumsiness as she picked up her cauldron and Oz rolled his eyes. It had made her laugh. She was not only young but also cheerful. Sunshine personalities never made Osmund feel comfortable, for people like that were always trying to get him to 'cheer up.' Osmund ducked and picked up the second book she dropped and then took hold of her cauldron.

"Here," he all but grunted, as he rearranged the books some. "Small ones on top, okay?" He told as he handed her back her cauldron and books. "Better?"

"Os-mund," Autumn said, exaggerating a bit so she'd remember. She thought about it for a second, then grinned wider. "I like it," she declared. "Osmund. It's different than any other name I've heard. Osmund."

She wasn't quite sure if he was listening because he had bent down to rearrange the books in her cauldron. Smaller books on top. She hadn't tried that before. "Just when I thought I had tried everything," Autumn said, giggling. It seemed so obvious now that she saw it.

Osmund handed Autumn's cauldron back to her. She shook it around a bit and was happy to see that no books threatened to spill over. "It's perfect. Thank you, Osmund! I guess you're a little old to go to Beauxbatons now. Did you go? Did you like it, or was it just another school? Did you ever go to Muggle School?" Autumn asked.

For some reason, the words just spilled out of her mouth in whatever way they wanted to. The Dutch accent was back, just when she had thought that her French accent was perfect. But she was mostly worried about the strange, maybe too personal questions she had asked. Osmund looked pretty annoyed as it was. Maybe not with her, but with whatever situation he was in.

Osmund wasn't sure what to make of Autumn. She certainly was peppy, but she seemed more curious about him than trying to purposely annoy him. She seemed grateful for his help with the books, which earned a small smile from him.

A little too old for school? He was twenty four and had been out of school for awhile. By now Beauxbatons seemed like a dream to him. He didn't expect to get bombarded with questions about it, but once posed towards him, he had to think about it. His time at Beauxbatons was probably the best of his life, which was neither dramatic nor really impressive, since afterwards his life had gone down hill. At least in Beauxbatons he could feel safe and was studious and a quidditch player and captain. He had friends and a boyfriend and now he had ghosts of friends and hadn't done anything studious or sporty in ages.

"Take time to enjoy it," He told the girl after calculating his answer. If he knew what being an adult was going to be like, he wouldn't have rushed to grow up. "I was homeschooled, actually. My father would rather eat dirt than have his son mingle with muggles," Osmund explained, scoffing in disgust. At the time, he didn't think any of it; that his father was even doing him a justice, but now his mouth was sour whenever he mentioned his father for how disgusting of a man he turned out to be.

Osmund didn't specifically say anything about Beauxbatons. He could have applied the same thing to eating popcorn or chatting with a sibling. But he did seem to consider his answer carefully, which Autumn appreciated. He tried, and she'd remember his answer. 

"Is being an adult really bad?" she asked, changing the topic completely. Maybe she was getting too personal. After all, she didn't know anything about Osmund. He could be a maniac or something.

Autumn wasn't really familiar with the ideas of Purebloods, Half-Bloods, and Muggle-borns. It sounded like some sort of racism. Wizardism? Bloodism? She decided it didn't need to have a name. She decided to say nothing about status. Since she didn't know what she'd be considered anyway. She felt like a Muggle at heart, even though she wasn't.

Osmund was probably scaring the young girl with his answers. She was probably only a first year, judging by her age and actions and things that she said. She had plenty of time to worry about the future, so why start then? However, Osmund wasn't a fan of sugarcoating the truth. His lip stiffened as she asked whether or not being an adult was bad.

"It has been bad for me," Osmund confessed. He didn't know why he was getting personal with someone he hardly knew and someone who was so young. Maybe it was because he didn't expect her to understand and didn't expect to ever see her again. it was a chance for him to rant without any consequences. "But regardless, being an adult can be hard. It's not as easy as being a kid and if you mess up enough like I did, then it's overall very unpleasant to say the least," Osmund relayed. Though it seemed like something else was confusing Autumn at the moment.

"My father is an asshole," he answered the unspoken question. "Some wizards and witches think they are better because they had magical parents and my father was one of those type of awful people," He explained. He didn't know if she honestly wanted to know all of that, but he was picking up that she was perhaps muggleborn and no doubt would occasionally run into problems because of that.

Adulthood wasn't something Autumn was concerned about. She knew that it was difficult. Working, in her father's case, was bad. But he never said anything bad about it. They lived a comfortable life because of him. Taxes were high. Having a family wasn't easy. But that was all she knew.

Autumn just nodded. She didn't quite understand how you could mess up being an adult. But she listened anyway.

"I don't see why it matters. My mom can't do much magic. My dad can do magic but doesn't. I don't know what that makes me, and I really don't mind. It just makes me nervous," Autumn said. Her parents had warned her about people like that. People that might not like her because of who her parents were.

" Is it an old people thing?" she asked, hoping that she wouldn't run into kids her age acting like the behavior Osmund was describing. "Well, not old necessarily. Just older than me," she corrected. Old was subjective, according to her parents.

Osmund bit his tongue as the girl explained her magic situation. He nodded. It was okay with him. That didn't ward him off from her. He just didn't like interacting with such young people. "It doesn't matter, but to some people it does. That's how you can tell who to hang out with or not. Don't keep toxic people in your life," Osmund relayed. Great. Now he was an advice giver. He should just quit now.

The man pulled out a cigarette and balanced it between his lips as he lit up. Linette never let him smoke in the house and since she paid for most of it, he had to obey or else hit the road. It was times like these he had to get his fix.

"I suppose. It used to be a really big issue when Voldemort and the Death Eaters were around. They were incredibly purist and even killed muggles and tortured muggleborns because of their birthright." He took a puff of his cigarette. "That was before I was born though. It's definitely not like that now. My father is all bark and no bite and it seems like all privileged purists are like that too, so don't worry about it."

Autumn listened carefully. She knew that now was a time to be silent, rather than a time to speak. It was getting easier to choose those times when she was talking to someone interesting rather than someone who was going to give her a lecture

Autumn didn't comment when Osmund took out a cigarette. It didn't really matter much to her anymore.

Voldemort and Death Eaters. She'd never heard anything like that before. It already interested her. She noted that she and Julie-Pierre would have to look the topics up. She figured it wouldn't creep him out. Anyone who could survive her obsession with Bog Bodies could take a little more weirdness.

Autumn giggled. She could imagine the senseless arguing that people would get into. Autumn knew that she'd have entirely too much fun proving people wrong.

"I like not having to worry. It makes things so much more enjoyable, but I don't think I've ever not worried about anything" Autumn said. "My mom says it's a bad habit."